dr-qian - Tumblr blog

dr-qian · 27 days

Text

no clue (l.mk)

mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 11.6k

summary: mark realizes how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid, immediately heading to a party. he’s quick to find you, rushing into a room without really thinking about it. except now, he can’t stop thinking about you. how bad is it really if he ends up falling in love with his one night stand?

warnings: strangers to lovers, smut, fluff, mild angst, one night stand, miscommunication and communication, reader is cautious, oral (both receiving), missionary, desperation, dirty talk, dry humping, softdom!mark, sub!reader

heavily inspired by tongues - the frights

part two to the how it all goes series!

mark doesn’t think he’s a person who acts on instinct.

he believes he at least has some self control. he won’t go out if he knows he has work to finish, knows his limits, and has pretty good time management if you ask him. he can control himself whenever he needs to, but he has his off days. everyone does.

which is why he can’t really explain how he ended up between your thighs.

he can hear the squelch of his fingers in your cunt, his mouth wrapped around your clit as he moans into you. your hands are threaded into his hair, moaning out his name, still unfamiliar on your tongue. he’s never really jumped into something like this before, but he can’t say he doesn’t like it. he really can’t, thoughts filled with only how good you taste.

he can feel how your thighs shake around him, trying to close shut when his fingers reach your sweet spot. he pries your legs apart, moving his mouth away from you to whine out, “need you to stop moving so much, wanna keep tasting you.”

he makes eye contact with you as he licks a stripe up your cunt, watching how your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. out of the people that mark’s been with, he thinks that you might be the sweetest person he’s tasted. he wouldn’t mind being in between your thighs, wouldn’t mind hearing all your pretty moans.

your hands make it to his hair, threading through the strands as he eats you out. you tug on it when something feels particularly good. he grunts against you, mouth sucking on your clit as the stinging pain makes his blood pump a little faster. all that he can hear are the lewd sounds of your cunt, the moans of his name, and his own breathing. “m-mark, i’m close. please don’t stop, you’re doing so good.”

he can’t slow down now, adding a third finger as he licks at your clit. he watches as your back arches, suddenly too aware of his dick straining against his pants. he tugs you close to his face, “need you to cum. want you to cum all over me so i can fuck your pretty pussy.”

he watches you nod, your hips rolling to meet his face as you moan out his name, hands gripping onto his hair as you cum. he hears himself let out an embarrassing moan, affected by your sounds and taste. he doesn’t stop his ministrations, helping you ride out your orgasm.

if he could, he’d spend all day here, licking up your cum as you cry out his name. with a tired laugh, you push his head away, almost enjoying the sad look on his face. your hand moves to cup the side of his face, “you did so good, mark. you want me to help you?”

his eyes widen a little, almost as if he wasn’t expecting anything to happen. you sit up, hands moving to unbutton and unzip his pants. his hands hover over yours, shaking as he watches you. “y-you’ll… you’ll suck me off?”

you pull his pants down to his thigh, “well, you did say earlier that you wanted to fuck me so… would you like to fuck me?”

he blinks at you, “really?”

“of course,” you laugh, “i know how bad you want to, and i know i want it, too. probably even more than you.”

you watch him scramble off the bed, taking off his pants as quickly as possible. he leaves his boxers on, making it back between the space between your thighs. you watch him slowly take his boxers on, watch how his cock slaps against his stomach. he’s leaking, and you wonder how exactly he’s held back for so long.

he strokes his length a few times, enjoying how you squirm around in impatience. he thinks you look cute like this, the thought dancing around in his head. he can’t keep himself away from you for too long, shifting closer to you. he rubs his length across your slit, letting your slick coat his cock.

your breath hitches when his tip hits your clit, mark leaning down to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and you can feel how his hips continue to grind against your cunt. you can only take so much before you start begging, “mark, please. need you to fuck me already, need to feel you inside me already.”

he likes how pretty your voice sounds begging for him. it pushes him over the edge, moving to line himself at your entrance. he can feel how wet you are, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. he lets out a low groan as he pushes in, your tight walls taking all his thoughts away.

it’s been too long for him, fighting against himself as he goes as slowly as he can. he’s patient, even as your nails dig into his back. you’re letting out small whimpers, getting used to the stretch his cock offers you. he waits for you to get used to the feeling, even if his cock is twitching inside you.

when you tell him he can move, he experimentally thrusts against you. you feel too good, and he’s not sure how long he can last, especially with how long it’s been for him. at your whines, he tries setting a steady rhythm for you. his hips only stutter a bit when you clench around him, his eyes fluttering close.

you throw your head back when mark hits your sweet spot, and mark needs to hear all the pretty sounds you just made again. he grinds his hips as close as he can, eyes threatening to shut at how deep he feels inside you. his eyes watch where you two are connected, a thumb moving to your neglected clit.

one of your hands moves to grope at your own boob, rolling a nipple in between your fingers. mark needs to help you, he decides, quickly swatting your hand away as he moves his face to the valley of your chest. he takes a nipple into his mouth, hand rubbing over your other boob.

he’s all over you, every part of his body moving to make you cum. you lay there, practically sobbing at how good he’s making you feel. “keep going, mark! please don’t stop, need you so bad!”

your words make him dizzy, thrusts slowing to grind into you. he can feel how your slick has coated his thighs, how messy this all is. he doesn’t care, not when he gets to see you like this under him. you’re crying out for him, tears pricking at your eyes from how good he’s making you feel. he wouldn’t mind getting to see this everyday.

the thought quickly leaves him when you tell him you’re about to cum. your nails scrape along his back, surely leaving marks for him to see tomorrow. you’re clenching around him tightly, his hips fighting to keep moving. most importantly, you’re calling out his name so sweetly, almost as if he’s the only thing you can think of.

“y-yeah, you’re gonna cum all over my cock?” he stutters, “gonna make a mess all over me?”

“yes, please, mark, please keep going!”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum. he’s doing everything right, hitting every spot he could reach. you let go, a loud whimper leaving you as you roll your hips against him. he’s gripping onto your thighs, leaving bruises against your skin. you’re happy that you said yes to him, happy that you could have probably one of the best orgasms of your life.

mark cums soon after you, the image of you too much for him to handle. he groans out a fuck, enjoying the warmth of your pussy before pulling out. he jerks himself off quickly, noting how your bleary eyes watch him. he cums all over your pussy, watches how it drips down near your clenching hole.

he’s breathing heavily at the sight, hears your tired cry as you lay against the pillow of the bed. he’s not sure if he should go get something to clean you up or if he should just stay here with you. he’s sure he doesn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying the look of you so fucked out because of him.

not because he thinks you look pretty, even more so like this.

his thoughts are cut off by the way you call his name. there’s a smile on your face, and despite being tired, you tug at his arm to bring him down by you. he faces you, a pretty blush on his face. he never really knows how to end these kinds of things, not that he really has experience to think about.

it doesn’t feel awkward, but mark can’t stop thinking of too many things at once. he can’t just leave you like this, but wouldn’t it be weird to sleep next to you? you aren’t exactly a stranger, but he can’t call you a friend, or even an acquaintance. he barely knows you, knows your name and maybe one class you're taking. his mind itches to know more.

your hand brushes the stray hairs out of his face, and he realizes how much he likes the feeling. your hand twitches at your side, slowly reaching out to him to make him wrap an arm around your waist. it’s quiet when this happens, mark trying to decide whether he should say something or not.

you beat him to it, “you did so good. i’m glad i got to do this with you, mark.”

he’s silent for a few seconds, fingers moving up and down at your side, “i’m happy, too- i mean, like, doing this with you.”

you hum out, letting the conversation fade out as you snuggle into the sheets. you don’t mind that his arm is still wrapped around you as you try to sleep. you try not to pay attention to the satisfied sigh he lets out once he settles into the sheets. you’re not sure if you’ll see him again, and even if you do, you know you probably won’t be talking to him.

either way, you’ll be gone by the morning.

mark can recall everything he did last night once he wakes up. it all flashes in his head before he’s fully conscious.

he remembers walking up to you, probably too confident as he flirts with you. he remembers your smiling face as you lead him into an empty room, locking the door behind you as he presses you against the wall. he remembers how soft your lips were against his, how sweet you tasted, and how nice you felt wrapped around him.

most importantly, he remembers how good it felt to sleep next to you, how nice it felt to have you wrapped in his arms. but now, as he fights off sleep, he sees you’re not there next to him. he shouldn’t be surprised, it was only supposed to be a one time thing. but he can’t help how cold it feels in this bed that isn’t even his.

for just last night, this room was something that was shared between the two of you. now, it’s just a random room that he woke up alone in. well, he shouldn’t be too alone here knowing haechan is probably crashed out at this now quiet frat house. he gathers his clothes that are scattered across the room, slipping them back on.

they feel different now, suddenly too dressy for the morning. the door's unlocked when he gets to it, quietly opening it as he peers out into the hallway. there’s no one there, mark tiptoeing down the stairs as he looks around for haechan. as expected, he’s sleeping almost too peacefully on a stranger's couch. there’s other people there too, but mark can’t help but laugh at the sight of his friend.

he doesn’t bother being gentle with haechan, quickly shaking his shoulder to wake him up. haechan groans, and mark contemplates if he should just throw water on him. as if haechan could hear his thoughts, he shoots straight up, gasping for air like he just got revived from being dead. he looks at mark with wide eyes, practically gasping for air.

“are you alright, dude?”

“i’m… fine? i had the craziest nightmare that i was about to go down a waterfall.”

“how is that even-” mark just sighs, deciding not to question him, “let’s go already. let’s leave these poor people alone.”

haechan stumbles a bit when he gets up, dramatically letting himself cling onto mark’s shoulders. they walk about the house as if nothing happened, as if mark didn’t meet you in there. he drags out haechan, noticing how he’s staying surprisingly silent. mark doesn’t mind walking back to campus, not minding how pretty the blue sky above him looks.

suddenly, haechan says, “are you hungry?”

mark mulls on it before speaking, “i guess i could eat. you won’t get, like, sick or anything?”

“no,” haechan hums, “i’m feeling pretty good right actually. i do wanna ask how you feel.” haechan raises his eyebrows suggestively at mark, causing mark to pull away from haechan, almost letting him fall to the ground.

“you are so weird.”

haechan laughs at that, “you’re acting like you won’t tell me all about it once we start eating.”

mark doesn’t deny it, trying to change the subject, “you’re paying, right?”

“no way! i took you to that party, you owe me!”

mark ends up begrudgingly paying for both their meals. he probably would’ve paid either way, he thinks as he watches haechan gulf down his food. mark is slower, taking a few bites as he picks at his food. he can’t stop thinking about what you might be doing, can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re still lingering in his mind.

without realizing, mark asks, “how bad is it if i’m still thinking about who i slept with last night?”

haechan looks up at him, his cheeks full with food. he takes his time to contemplate mark's words, chewing slowly on his food before speaking. he clears his throat, “well, what exactly are you thinking about? like, sexually, or…” he whispers at the end of his sentence, “romantically?”

mark feels embarrassed when he realizes it’s both. he could just lie and say it was the first option, but he can’t bring himself to.

haechan doesn’t need to hear mark say his answer when he can see mark become more and more red. he knows mark is more of a relationship kind of guy, but really? he points his fork at mark, and in the nicest way possible, he questions him, “well, how much do you know about her?”

mark has to think about his answer. he’s never really seen you on campus or at any of the parties he’s been to. he knows your name… and how you look. turns out he doesn’t really know too much about you, but it feels more than that to mark. mark huffs out an answer, “not a lot, actually. but i do want to get to know her more! i feel like, like we really could’ve hit it off if it were any other time…”

“are you sure you’re not in love with her pussy or something?”

mark quickly shushes haechan, “why would you say that out loud where anyone could hear us?”

haechan brushes off his words, “it’s just… what if that was supposed to be the only time that you guys were meant to be together. you can’t just force someone to talk to you.”

“but-”

“nope. one, you don’t know her that well. two, if you do ever talk to her, given if she even wants to talk to you, what are you gonna say?”

“you know,” mark starts, really trying to come up with anything, “ask how she’s been?”

haechan threatens to throw his crumbled napkin at mark.

mark stares at his half eaten plate, not really knowing what else to say. he’s never seen you before, and last night was quite literally the first time he’s ever seen you. he’s not sure how he hasn’t before, not when you were so easy to pick out of a room full of people. maybe haechan is right, if he really wanted to know you, he should’ve already tried before.

he'll convince himself it was just a one time thing.

when mark came up to you at the party, it was the second time you had ever seen him.

he still looked the same as how he did when you first saw him during your freshman year. he still looks a bit boyish, but somehow obviously more grown up. you saw him slowly walk up to you after apparently getting a pep talk from a friend. you had quickly pieced together who the two were, and how exactly you remembered them.

it was one of your first weeks of college. you were hanging out with a friend, quietly talking outside the room that your class was about to be held in. you didn’t want to be late, but you also didn’t want to be the first person walking in there. that was embarrassing, but it was also embarrassing just standing out here like you wouldn’t be entering in a few minutes.

you and your friend were sharing hushed whispers to one another, probably talking about an upcoming assignment you really didn’t want to do. you watch your friend pull out her phone to mindlessly scroll before class starts. you were about to do the same when you heard loud voices quickly pass through the hall.

the voices are too loud for the quiet hall, cringing lightly before you hear thundering footsteps coming your way. in a flash, you see a guy dragging another guy down the hall with him. you hear stop pulling so hard! and a hurry up! as they pass by you. you make eye contact with the one being dragged, his eyes looking apologetic for how loud they’re being.

as soon as they arrive, they’re fast to go. you hear your friend laugh next to you while you just shake your head in disapproval. you click your tongue before talking, “we’re in college and there’s men still acting like children.”

she giggles at your words, “i think they might just be like that.”

“do you know them?”

“not really, no. i just know their names. the guy who was doing the dragging is always loud like that. i guess the other guy gets caught up in it.”

you nod at her words. you hear the elevator doors open and you wonder if the two entered in together, praying the ride would be fast to whatever event they were late to. you let out a sigh, “the one being dragged looked at me like he was sorry.”

when she laughs, she bumps into your side, “i think his name is mark. i’m pretty sure they’re roommates.”

with a frown, you add, “i hope they’re late to wherever they’re going,” your friend laughs at this, “people are starting to get in class, let’s go.”

now, the second time you meet mark, it feels like you’re being properly introduced. he comes up to you, only slightly faltering when you look at him with a smile on your face. you wonder if he remembers you all those years ago, wonders if he remembers feeling sorry for you. he probably doesn’t with the way he tries flirting with you.

it’s not like you don’t expect it, knowing he had to go through a whole pep talk before this, but you still feel surprised. he doesn’t look like someone who would be this forward, but you can’t say you didn’t like it.

he asks for your name (proving he really doesn’t know you), and asks how the party is going for you. cocking your head slightly, you answer his questions, noticing how his eyes dart down to your lips occasionally. it doesn’t take long for you both to head up to a room together, full of giggles and laughs.

you didn’t realize how much you would be into this, into him. he was desperate, hands all over you as he groaned into your mouth. you thought you would have to beg him to eat you out, but he was the one practically whining out to have a taste of you. it’s even better once he starts fucking you, taking care of every single need of yours before his own.

it’s over faster than you want it to be. he looks a little panicked afterwards, confused on what exactly he should do. you wonder how often he does this, if he even does this at all. you brush it off by asking him to come lay down by you. he presumably pushes all his worries away to lay behind you, arm tentatively wrapping around your side.

you wonder if you pushed it too far by asking him to sleep with you like this. you both could’ve left the room together, parted ways for the night, and probably never see each other again. it makes you think if this was all he wanted with you. sex. it’s not that you were hoping for more, but mark seems like a nice guy.

you have a quick conversation, thanking him for tonight. it feels too formal, almost as if you were ending a date. this is mark, someone you don’t know well and have never talked to. you don’t know why you push the hairs out of his face or why you let him wrap his arm around you. you should keep distance between you two, but you don’t.

it’s hard to explain what you really want right now, but all you can do is fall asleep in his hold.

you wake up earlier than mark, watching his chest rise and fall.

you find yourself cuddled into his side, using his arm like a pillow. you get up quietly to not disturb him, picking up your clothes from the night before. you hate staying at a random person’s place, but what else can you do in a situation like this. you find your phone, looking at your friends messages saying how she’s back at your shared apartment.

you send her a quick text that you’re heading back soon. you wonder what she’d say about all this, wonder if she remembers your encounter with mark from all those years ago. you take one last look at mark, sleeping peacefully on the bed, unknowing that you’re about to leave him there by himself.

you ponder on leaving your phone number for a few moments. nothing bad could come from it, but you don’t know if he would even want to see you after this. you bite your lip as you unlock the door, slipping out into the quiet frat house. you spot his friend passed out on a couch, a few others sleeping on the floor or other seats.

you debate on walking back to your apartment, but you’re sore everywhere. you mentally curse out mark as you try to find an uber, wincing when you look at the prices. you try to convince yourself that it's better than walking, better than waiting for the bus, and better than having to hear everyone else talk.

once your ride arrives, you're quick to hop in. it’s quiet for the most part, the radio playing a song you’re not too familiar with. you mull over every decision you've made within the past twelve hours, and as much as you want to regret every single one, you can’t. it was a good night, you met a good person, and you got good sex out of it. what’s there to complain about?

you can’t help but wonder how mark feels.

a few days pass, nothing really exciting happens.

you have class, you go to your job, and with the free time you have, you study or hangout with your friends. today’s a day where you've been out for a while, your friends dragging you out of your apartment and away from all the stress of a job and studying. even though you complain, they’re quick to see the smile on your face once you’re actually out.

there’s few times where you hang out at the campus. after your freshman year, you stayed close to the areas around your apartment. the campus felt too far and suddenly felt like it was only there for business. but your friends insist on eating on the quad. it’s a nice day, and you can’t really say no to eating outside with warm weather and friends around you.

you don’t know what possesses you to look over your shoulder, but you do. you regret it immediately, noticing mark walking down a sidewalk to wherever he’s going. you’re not sure why you stare for so long, it’s not like you want to know where he’s going or who he could be meeting with. he does look nice when he’s dressed casually, though.

you realize you might’ve stared for too long once you see him turn back at you. it’s quick, but he does a double take, realizing it’s you that’s staring at him. you quickly whip your head back to your friends, internally panicking on what you should do. you have about twenty seconds to decide if he does come over.

this would be your first time seeing mark after the party, probably your second time seeing mark on campus at all. does he even want to say hi? and what will your friends think? they’ll wonder why you’re trying so hard to ignore the man that is currently walking towards you. you don’t really want to talk about it just yet.

you realize you might have to when you hear mark call out your name. you take a deep breath, slowly turning around to give him a small wave. you can feel the gazes of your friends fall onto you without even having to look at them. there’s a soft smile on his face, hands wrapping around his backpack straps as he gets closer.

“uh, hey, how are you?” he asks a little awkwardly

“i’m doing fine? how are you?” you can hear your friends whisper behind you as you feel the back of your neck go hot.

“i’ve doing fine, i’ve just… been thinking about you. you kinda just, like, left that morning.”

you sigh, fingers moving to play with the grass under you. is he really thinking about that night? does he expect you to want to do it again? you shrug, “yeah, i didn’t really know what else to do. i didn’t want to stay there all by myself.”

“oh, sorry. i could’ve… walked out with you- i mean, if you had asked.”

“no, it’s okay. i know your friend was still there.”

he nods, “yeah, i know. but, um, if you’re not busy soon, then can we hang out? just us two?”

you’re a little shocked that he can just ask that so casually. it’s like you’ve both been friends for so long, as if it was always normal for him to ask the girls he meets up with to hang out. in another world, you would probably say yes to him, but you can’t think of a good reason to tell him yes. “mark,” you start, “i’ll be busy this whole week so… i’m not sure if i’ll be able to.”

he takes a few moments to take in your words. he stares at you before finally staring at the floor. he nods slowly, offering you an apologetic smile before speaking, “that’s fine, i just wanted to see-” he takes a breath, “wanted to see what you would say.”

you let out a small sorry, and he takes it as a sign that it’s time for him to go. he takes a few steps back, watching as you give him an apologetic look. “i’ll, uh, maybe see you again? soon? i mean, like, if you ever want to.”

you feel a little awkward as you try to avoid any more eye contact with him. “yeah. i’ll see you, mark.”

he takes a few more steps back before fully turning around. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, watching as he spares you a few more glances. he looks a little disappointed, but he doesn’t try to force you into what you don’t want to do. that’s a good thing about him, you think.

you let out a heavy exhale, now fully facing your friends. when you notice the silence among the group, you look up. everyone is staring at you with smiles on their faces, their faces practically begging for you to say something. you bite back a laugh as you try to ignore it, but one of them speaks up, “what even was that?”

you huff, “just… someone i met the other night.”

if you ever meet mark lee again after this, you might just have to curse him out for having to awkwardly explain to your friends what just happened.

it’s another day when you're back on campus.

there’s no friends this time around, no way for you to relax. you have a class today, getting upset with your past-self for thinking you could wake up this early for a class. you usually try to grab a quick snack beforehand to keep yourself awake. you make your way to your campus’s coffee shop. it might be 50/50 on whether it’s good or not, but it’s closer than anything else.

you think you deserve a sweet treat, a chocolate muffin that would probably cure every single thing that’s happened to you these past weeks (that also somehow all lead back to mark lee). you don’t really expect anything but a long line of other students waiting to order, but there you see the man himself, mark lee, sitting at a bench.

you’ve learned your lesson from last time, quickly moving out of his sight and choosing not to stare at him. you make your way to the line, trying hard to ignore him. your eyes subconsciously move to look at the side of his face. he’s wearing glasses, hanging low on his nose as he scrolls through his phone.

you wonder if he’s waiting for his friend or if he’s just waiting for his class to start. there’s an impulse to walk over to him and make conversation, smiling as you ask about his morning. you’d be willing to be a bit late to your class if it meant to talk to him more. you’re just not sure he’d feel the same way.

you watch as he looks up from his phone, rolling his head around to stretch. before he can catch you staring you look away, straight ahead to the menu in front of you. you have to wonder if you’re making this hard for yourself on purpose. you don’t have to think about him so much, especially if he might not even be thinking about you.

well, he’s thinking about you, but probably not in the way you’re thinking about him. it makes you sad, you could’ve at least been friends with him. even now, as you stare at him a few feet away, you could easily eat your snack with him. you could laugh at how nervous he gets, could get him to warm up to you as he gets more comfortable.

but you don’t.

you pay for your muffin, wait for it to be handed to you, and take a whole separate route to your class. before you walk out of the building, you take one last look at him, watching how he stares off into the distance. you don’t want him to see you, quickly walking off away from him.

what you miss is mark staring at you as you walk away. there’s a small smile on his face, seeing you rush off. he doesn’t care that this is the second time he’s seen you, doesn’t care that you don’t even notice him. he likes seeing you like this, so different than how you presented yourself at the party, not that it’s a bad thing.

he wishes that he could go up and talk to you, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. when he walked back to his apartment after the day he saw you with your friends, he decided that you probably weren’t interested. as much as he wants to talk to you, it’s better to give you your space. he just wishes he never ruined his chances with you.

he checks the time on his phone, wondering how haechan could be so late. before he can pull up his messages with haechan, he shows up. there’s a lazy smile on his face as he walks down the hall. mark rolls his eyes as haechan gets closer. haechan only chuckles, slugging an arm around mark’s shoulder. mark is quick to take it off, earning a quick whine from haechan.

wordlessly, they start moving to their shared class. mark doesn’t bother to ask haechan how he’s doing, clearly having a nice morning if he decided to show up so late. haechan laughs when he sees mark so annoyed, patting his shoulder before he speaks, “i have good news, you’ll never guess who i saw.”

mark hums disinterestedly, knowing it was probably someone he saw doing something crazy at a party.

“i saw your girl walking by just now.”

mark's head snaps towards his friend, haechan laughing at how wide mark’s eyes are. haechan picks up his pace, “that’s not even the best part. i said hi. and she knew who i was.”

mark furrows his eyebrows, “why would you do that? did she… did she say anything else?”

“i just asked if she had any plans, but she just shrugged and said she was probably gonna go out this weekend with her friends.”

mark smacks his lips as they near their building. he pushes the door open, air slapping against his face as they step in. he lets out an exasperated sound, “well, do you know, like, where she’s going?”

haechan coos at mark, “you’re so sweet, such a sweet boy. she didn’t say, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to find out, right?”

mark is deep in thought. if he did find you, and that’s if he really tried, would you even want to talk to him? he’s not sure if you want that kind of thing with him, but he wonders if he can still try. if you brush him off, then he realizes that’s probably it. he could respect your opinion, as long as you tell him what you want.

before they enter their class, mark stares at haechan, “right, there’s no harm in trying.”

mark feels nervous tonight.

it doesn’t feel like the last time he went to a party, more confident and driven. now, he has a goal in his mind: to find you. he thinks it’s funny how nervous he’s being, it’s not even guaranteed that he’d see you again, not guaranteed that you would want to talk to him. if it doesn’t end up working out, he’ll just use tonight as a de-stressor, forcing all thoughts of you away.

haechan helps get his mind off of things on the way there. he doesn’t bring you up, chooses to talk about other mundane stuff. it would help more if mark didn’t know that haechan was just trying to distract him. it does make him realize how good of a friend he’s been through all of this.

when they get close to the place, haechan has to stop himself from laughing at how nervous mark looks, “you know she might not even be in there, right? it’s literally a saturday night, she could be anywhere.”

mark lets out the breath he’s been holding, “yeah, i guess.”

“do whatever you want tonight,” haechan huffs, “this is about you.”

with that, they enter the house. it’s a lot smaller than the frat, people all around mark as he enters. mark tries to scan the room, but can’t quite seem to catch you. you’re easy to spot, so that tells mark that you might not be here. before he can think about it more, haechan drags him off so he can get a drink.

haechan offers him some, but mark declines. if he does see you, he doesn’t want to mess it up by being potentially drunk. he tries to look around the room again from this angle, but he still can’t find you. it was bound to happen.

he’s about to give up when he notices a group of people move out of their spot, and there you are.

he knows you're there talking to a friend, but he can only see you. you remind him of how he first met you at the other party. he wants to walk over, wants to say hi, wants to talk to you. he forgets that haechan is there, beginning to take a few steps towards you.

he’s quickly stopped by haechan tugging on his arm, a certain look on his face, “are you really doing this?”

“i need to talk to her. even if she tells me to go away, i just- i need to hear it from her.”

haechan lets go of his arm, realizing that this is something that mark is serious about. “i don’t want to stop you. i’ll be here if you end up getting heartbroken,” haechan jokes.

mark just smiles, nodding before he walks away from him. he stops his hands from shaking as he gets closer. you’re turned away from him, and he doesn’t really know what else to do than tap your shoulder. you jump a little before turning around, your eyes wide as you realize it’s mark. he can’t help but notice your eyes soften a little when you see it’s just him.

“hey, uh, i didn’t expect to see you here.” he says to you.

a faint smile forms on your face, “i can’t say i’m too surprised to see you.”

he lets out an embarrassed laugh, smiling to himself when he sees you laugh too. looking behind you, he sees your friend smiling at the two of you. you turn back to your friend, a wordless exchange happening in front of mark.

your friend puts her hands up in defeat, looking at mark with a wry smile, “i just got a text from our friend saying she needs help. i guess i have to leave you two alone now!”

mark gives your friend a wave as she says bye to the both of you. she rushes off to another part of the house, mark not missing the mischievous look on her face. now that it’s the two of you alone, shy and awkward smiles exchanged between the two of you. no one really knows what to say or how to start.

“how have you been-”

“it’s been a while-”

you both talk over each other. you stare at each other with wide eyes, quickly laughing to yourselves. mark thinks he should be embarrassed by this, but he takes in how pretty you look while you laugh. he would embarrass himself for hours if it meant to see you smile.

the laughs subside and mark tries to quickly come up with something to say. there’s so many people around, the music is too loud, and you feel far from him. before he can say anything, you beat it to him, “do you wanna go somewhere more quiet?”

he can’t help but hear the subtle undertone of your words, a double meaning hidden behind them. he nods slowly, watching you grab his arm, just like the other night. he gets dragged through the crowd, weaving through all the people, his eyes remain on your back. your touch is warm, and mark likes having your hand on him.

there’s not a lot of options for a “quiet place” in the house. most of the rooms are locked, and the ones that are open have people openly having sex with an unlocked door. mark grimaces at the sight while you laugh at his face. you opt for a restroom, tilting your head at mark, asking if he’s okay with it. he walks in before you, scanning the room and letting you in.

he watches you lock the door, hopping onto the sink counter as you stare at him. he wants to talk to you, he really does, but you staring at his lips makes it quite hard for him. he takes a step closer to you, your hands wrapping around his neck, pulling him flush against the counter. you’re so close to him, and he can feel his heart racing as he recalls his last meeting with you.

he licks his lips, his cheeks hot, eyes wandering all across your face. you chuckle at him, smiling as you say, “can i kiss you, mark?”

he doesn’t even answer you, pressing his lips against yours without hesitation. as much as he wanted to hold back, he seems to lose all control when it comes to you. he can’t pretend like you didn’t come out in his dreams every single night while also consuming his thoughts in the day. his hands hold your cheeks, almost checking if you’re really there with him.

the kisses are slow, getting used to each other once more. one if his hands slides down to your waist, squeezing at the skin. his tongue licks at your bottom lip, relishing in the small moan you let out. he licks into your mouth, his hand sliding under your shirt. you press your hips close to his, feeling how he’s growing hard in his pants just from kissing.

you can’t help but let your hips roll against his, slow and teasing as he lets out a low groan into your mouth. you’re just as needy as he is, always admiring him from afar now that you see him more on campus. it’s weird how the universe works, bringing him to you when all you wanted to do was try to ignore him.

you can feel yourself getting wet, mark grinding into you as he lets out soft pants into your mouth. you take it all in, finally getting what you wanted. you could try to get rid of all the thoughts that you have about him, but it’s hard when he’s… mark lee.

you can feel yourself becoming more needy, embarrassingly so. mark looks the same, his cheeks pink as he lets out soft grunts of your name. when you start kissing down his jawline, he suddenly pulls his upper half away from you. shock paints your face, and he’s quick to explain himself, “i just- i wanted to, uh-”

“can you cum like this? it’s okay if you do mark, i think it’s cute.”

he whines out, “no! well, yeah, i can, but i wanted to-”

“really, mark. don’t worry, i’ll let you eat me out afterwards.”

he’s quickly losing the battle, his mouth slowly inching towards you again. his hips buck up at the mention of getting to eat you out, memories of your taste on his tongue playing in his mind. he almost gives up, but he’s determined. he slowly peels himself from you, hooded eyes and a flushed face looking straight at you.

“i, uh, i wanted to talk. i mean, like, talk about… i guess, us?”

you catch your breath, squeezing your legs together as you try to calm yourself down, “is there an us? we’ve only met up once, and it was for sex.”

“that’s true, but i…” he trails off a bit, putting his words together, “i want to talk to you more. i want to get to know you, because i really liked being with you the other time.”

you try to hold back any butterflies from forming at his words. as much as you want to give in, you have to be careful, “but wasn’t it just sex? i thought that’s all you wanted from me.”

his hand moves to your thigh, his thumb smoothing over your skin, “that’s true, but i didn’t expect to like it- like you so much. and i don’t expect you to think the same thing, but i just… had to tell you.”

you choose to stare at his hand on your thigh instead of his face. it’s easier to avoid how his eyes shine thinking about his feelings for you. it’s not like it wasn’t obvious, especially after your friends saw him the other day. you bite the inside of your cheek, “you like me? even though you don’t know me, even if we’ve met only once?”

“that’s why i want to get to know you. i want to know what you like and dislike. i want to know what your favorite songs are, want to know what you do when you’re free. i want to be there to learn it all.”

his words feel heavy, and you can feel your own feelings bubbling in your throat. what about you was so interesting for him? did he have a reason to find you pretty under him? what did you do for him to have such strong feelings so fast?

you speak slowly, “are you sure? i- i brushed you off the other day. another day i chose not to talk to you even though i saw you. am i really someone you want to talk to?”

mark smiles at your words, there’s no faltering on his end, “it’s my fault for not telling you what i wanted. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, either. if you didn’t want to talk to me, i didn’t want to force you to.”

your mouth opens and closes, not really knowing what else to say. you can tell he’s been thinking about this, been taking your feelings into consideration. if it were any other guy, they wouldn’t care about you, only thinking with their dicks as they talk to you. it puts you at ease knowing that mark is being genuine about it all.

“that’s why i wanted to talk to you tonight. i really had no intention of doing all this-” he makes a gesture between you two, “-with you, even if i really really wanted to. i was prepared for everything.”

you laugh at him, letting out the breath you’ve been holding, “i also want to say sorry. i didn’t mean to be so… mean. i wanted to talk to you, too. i just thought that you only wanted a one time thing, or that you just wanted sex.”

his hand reaches for yours, and you don’t try to brush it off. you don’t quite grab his hand just yet, but you let him hold on. he stares at you gently, “i’m sorry if i made you feel that way.”

you shake your head, “it’s not your fault, i was just thinking too much.”

the two of you sit in silence for a couple of moments. you can hear the loud music bouncing through the thin walls. you can hear people shouting over the music, loud laughs echoing down the halls. even through all the noise, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. this is your space with him, and you like how it feels.

after a few more beats of silence, he speaks up, “can i… can i take you out sometime? like, i mean, like, take you out on a date? that isn’t a party? just… wherever you want?”

you let out a small laugh at his nervous, jumbled words. his cheeks turn pink at the sound, head falling to your shoulder as he groans in embarrassment. you hope he can’t hear your thumping heart as you answer him, “i would like that. i want to go on a date with you, mark.”

you can feel him smile against the skin of your shoulder. he whispers out a thank you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. you wrap your arms behind his back, pulling him close as you hum, “do you think we should get out of here?”

he moves to look at you, “definitely.”

you’re unexpectedly nervous for today.

after the party, you and mark exchanged numbers before you both went separate ways for the night. you never expected to see him, never expected to not have sex with him, and never expected to even give him your phone number. now, as you stare at the shared messages from the previous days, you realize how much you kept yourself away from him.

it almost felt too easy for you to fall for him. you tried to hold back, but the care he holds for you gets to your heart. you don’t mind, knowing that he’s felt like this just as long as you had, no restraint shown in how he takes your feelings seriously. a few weeks ago, you could’ve never felt nervous about what might happen today.

it’s nothing serious, mark even saying that it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. like he said before, he just wants to get to know you as a person. the thought makes you shake out a breath, trying to take it just as easy as him.

you mull over your clothing options, wondering what exactly you should wear for a casual hangout. he probably won’t care as much as you think he would, but you don’t want to seem too prepared or too lax. you’re overthinking it again. it’s just mark. it should be easy with him, he’s interested in you, not the you you try to put on.

you grab whatever feels fitting for the day. you look back at your phone, seeing mark’s text saying he’s ready when you are. you’re quick to type out that you’re about to start heading over. it’s just a coffee shop, you think. you try not to put too much meaning into it yet.

it’s not too far from you, a fifteen minute bus ride to the place. throughout the ride, you try to drown out your nervous thoughts with your favorite playlist. it seems the universe is against you when all it plays are the love songs in your playlist. too coincidental.

you get there before him. it looks like a nice, quiet spot. mark says he’s been going here for quite some time, one of his favorite spots to talk to his friends or study. you can’t help but wonder if it’s true or if he’s lying to impress you. you figure today is the best day to find that out.

you wait for him to arrive. you refrain from texting him, deciding to just wait it out. you don’t want to seem too worried just yet, he could just be running late. thoughts of him standing you up enter your mind. you have to laugh at the thought, realizing that mark doesn’t seem to be someone to do that. you don’t know him well yet, but you’re sure he isn’t that evil.

as if to prove your point, you hear someone calling your name. turning to the direction of the voice, you're greeted with mark lee walking towards you. there’s a bright smile on his face, an arm waving at you. you smile and wave back. as he gets closer, he looks over you, a shy smile on his face as he scans over your outfit. you get just embarrassed as him, looking away from his heavy stare.

“should we go inside?” you ask.

he’s quick to agree, opening the door for you. when you enter, you’re hit with the strong smell of coffee. there’s a few others inside, chatting away or typing on their laptops with their own drinks. you scan over the lengthy menu, opting to choose something lighter for today.

mark chooses the same thing as you, and you laugh at him. he says he doesn’t like coffee and wonders why you chose what you chose. he might be thinking too much into it, but you think it’s cute. you try to order separately, but he practically begs to pay for your drink. you give in, you can’t just say no to a free drink.

it’s a bit awkward when you both wait for your drinks. you can see him roll on his heels as he waits, can see how he tries to pick out what he wants to say. as you try to come up with every possible response, he speaks, “how was your day?”

you let out a small chuckle at his question, “good, actually. i spent most of my time thinking about right now, even i kinda surprised myself.”

he smiles at your admittance, “yeah? i did, too. i was nervous, that maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

“i can’t believe that i’m making you feel like you,” you let out an apologetic laugh, “trust me, i’ll be asking to hang out with you a lot now.”

before mark can say anything, your drinks are set out. you both thank the barista, and you start to move to one of the empty booths. before you can, mark catches onto your arm, “can we actually, uh, sit outside? the sky looks really pretty right now, i think it would be cool to sit outside.”

you smile, quickly nodding at his words. once again, he holds open the door for you, sliding out and looking at the small tables set outside. he was right, the sky is really pretty today. he lets you choose a spot, and you choose towards the corner where no one can bother the two of you.

he’s quick to speak up again, “i really like this place. i found it a while ago while walking around with my friend one day.”

“was it with haechan?”

mark cocks his head a little, “you know him?”

“other than his name and him being your friend, not really. he introduced himself to me one time, though.”

he laughs at that, “good to know. he doesn’t really like coming to places like this, so i would just come here by myself. i even considered asking if they were hiring.”

“and? did you?”

“i didn’t. i would be crushed if they rejected me and i wouldn’t be able to show my face there ever again.”

you choke on your drink at his words, a laugh trying to escape as you let out coughs. mark is quick to pat your back, laughing while trying to calm down your coughing fit. as your throat clears, the coughs fade into laughs, mark joining you as he apologizes, “sorry for being too funny.”

you jokingly glare at him, “you owe me, mark lee.”

silence washes over the two of you again. this time, it’s more comfortable. the drink is good, mark’s company feels good, and you’re happy you came today. you watch as he takes out his phone, quickly snapping a shot of the bright blue sky. it seems practiced, something he always does. you can’t help but ask, “what about the sky makes you like it so much?”

he shrugs, “i just think it’s pretty. it’s not going anywhere, and it’s nice to take a break from it all and look up at the sky.”

“i’ve never really thought about it that way. i don’t really take the time to just stare at it.”

he hums at your words, “it’s nice to look and think about all the pretty things in the world.”

you try to ignore how he stares at you while he says that, quickly breaking eye contact with him. there’s a shy, but proud smile on his face. you chuckle, “you’re too cool for me, mark.”

“one day you’ll be as cool as me. just know that i’ll send you pictures of sunsets or the moon, or literally just, like, anything. anything that reminds me of you.”

he lists the things that he just told you he finds pretty, indirectly implying that all the pretty things remind him of you. your heart beats a little harder, quickly taking a sip of your drink to try to ignore it. you try to come up with anything else to get rid of the rush growing inside you, “you know, i actually had seen you once before.”

his head quickly turns to you, “really? when?”

“it was during freshman year, i saw you getting dragged down a hallway.”

mark racks through all his memories, pinpointing when exactly that could’ve happened. you watch the realization dawn on his face, quickly shoving his face into his hands in embarrassment. you shake his shoulder a bit, laughing when he makes a humiliated sound. you question him further, “where were you guys even going?”

after ruffling his own hair a bit, his head slowly lifts up to get a quick look at you. his face is red, hands fidgeting in shame. you wonder what could possibly be so bad. he speaks up when he starts to see you get worried a bit, “it wasn’t even anything crazy, he was just trying to take me to an event with free food in it.”

you can’t stop yourself from laughing, placing your hand on his arm to stable yourself. you decide not to think too hard when his other hand lays on top of yours, thumb smoothing over your skin. it feels like it should always be there, his warm palm calming down your nerves. it should always be this easy.

“if it was just that, then why are you so embarrassed?” you ask, laugh airy.

“i know, but i could’ve skipped free pizza and instead talked to you! it’s not fair you’ve known me longer than i’ve known you. maybe we could’ve… we would’ve…” he doesn’t finish the end of his sentence, but you can assume what he’s trying to say.

“two poor freshmen students couldn’t help themselves to free pizza. i can’t blame you, honestly.”

he squeezes your hand and takes a breath before speaking, “you’ll go with me to get free pizza next time? you’re, like, officially invited to the next free pizza event.”

you chuckle, “would very much prefer you to take me out to an actual pizza place, thank you very much.”

his eyes shoot towards yours, “does that mean you want to see me again?”

you put his words together, “mark lee, were you trying to get me to go on another date with you by asking me to go to a campus even with free pizza?”

“well, it almost worked, didn’t it?”

“you can think of it as me choosing the next spot.”

his fingers move to try to intertwine his with yours. you bite your lip, letting him hold onto your hand. you don’t want to hold back anymore, he’s made it easy for you to let go of it all.

“i can’t wait. it’s my turn to confess.”

you wait for him to continue, watching him hold back a smile as he pays full attention to your hand holding his. you tell him to focus, and he lets out a sheepish laugh, “that day haechan talked to you, he told me that you were going out that weekend. i really wanted to see you, so we both ended up going out that same weekend, too.”

“how did you know where i would be?”

“we didn’t,” he chuckles, “i just hoped that i would find you, hoped that you would be there. i got lucky that night.”

“it’s like you knew exactly where to find me.”

“it’s almost as if our subconscious were trying to bring us together,” he let’s out a proud noise at his own words while you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“mark, i will threaten to cancel our next date,” you joke.

he hums, “i know where to look to find you, don’t worry.”

mark finds himself in bed with you again.

this time, he knows exactly why. he’s in love with you, and you finally admitted that you’re in love with him. he didn’t rush you, didn’t pressure you into reciprocating his feelings. he could see yourself becoming more comfortable around him, leaning into his touch, smiling at his words. he wouldn’t change anything (besides maybe that day he was getting dragged by haechan), in order to be here in bed with you.

even if all he had with you was that one night, he’d be happy knowing that he at least spent some time with you. but he got what he wanted, you let him into your life. he would’ve waited years if it meant getting with you.

so as he makes his way in between your thighs once more, he looks to see your face staring down at him with love. though he’s having sex with you again like all those nights ago, it feels different this time. he’s not here just to fuck you, but he’s here because he loves you. what’s even better is that now you love him back, and it feels right as you moan out his name.

he’s softer this time around, no rush in getting you both off as fast as possible. there’s no loud music or screaming coming through the walls, and you’re laying on top of your own bed. he’s here in your room, enjoying the presence of you right next to him.

he licks a stripe up your dripping cunt, savoring the taste that he’s been craving. he looks up to gauge your reaction, a smiling forming on his face to see your face scrunched up with need. he moves to suck on your clit, humming around it, feeling your thighs tighten around his head. he doesn’t bother moving them this time around, letting them try to shut around his head.

you can feel his tongue prod at your entrance, your hands move to tangle in his hair. he just can’t get enough of how sweet you taste. he thinks he could spend hours here in between your thighs, licking up your slick. he thanks every god out there for letting him be here with you, letting him be so entranced by all of you.

he grabs you by the waist to pull you closer to him. you can feel his nose press against your clit, and you can’t help but practically use his face to grind into him. he opens his eyes a bit, looking at the sight of you so fucked out just from his mouth. you’re all he can think about.

you can feel one of his fingers replace his tongue, moving to tease your clenching hole. you gasp out, tears welling in your eyes, “mark, please. need you so bad, you don’t even know-”

“baby-” you moan at the pet name, “i know how much you need me, i could never keep you waiting.” he slides a finger in, relishing in the way you clench around his digit. his mouth focuses on your clit, listening to the moans and whimpers you let out. it’s all because of him this time, all of the things he does for you because of how much he loves you.

he slips another finger in, scissoring them inside you, earning him a tug at his hair. his fingers move to curl inside you, enjoying the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around his fingers. you whimper when he finds your sweet spot, thighs practically trapping him between your thighs. he commits that spot to memory, now forever burned into his mind.

it doesn’t take long for him to get you close to cumming. he’s putting all his attention on you, his desperation showing with how greedily he’s moving against you. you feel your body heat up, thighs beginning to shake around him. “m-mark, ‘m gonna cum, wanna cum so bad!” you wait, and you can feel him smile against you.

he pulls his mouth away from you, his fingers still moving inside of you as he thumb reaches to rub your clit. he moves to kiss you, licking into your mouth. you can taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into your mouth as you cum on his fingers. he rides you through it, fingers slowing down as you whine from the overstimulation.

he removes them from you, bringing them up to his mouth. you watch him slide them into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut with the taste of your cum. he lets out a small groan, and you have to lightly kick his leg to get him to focus. his eyes focus on you again, letting out an embarrassed laugh, trying to redirect it towards you.

“my girl came so fast, did you miss me that much?” he teases.

you roll your eyes, “so what if i did! now, will you let me finally suck you off?”

his eyes bulge out of his head and you have to refrain from laughing at the sight. “i never got to, but you don’t know how much i want to.”

you both trade spots, mark laying to lean against the headboard, his hooded eyes staring down at you. your hands trail up his clothed thighs, and he can’t miss the way you look at his bulge in his sweats. you make eye contact with him as you slide down his sweats and boxers, watching how his hard cock slaps against his stomach.

he lets out a low groan at the sight of you so prettily sat between his legs. you kitten lick his tip before wrapping your hand around his length. you move your hand slowly up and down, smiling at the low groans he lets out at the feeling. you won’t ever admit it to him, but you’ve thought about doing this to him too much, even before you started dating.

you can tell he thought about it too with the way his bleary eyes look at you. his head pushes into the headboard as your lips wrap around his tip, sucking lightly. his hand doesn’t hesitate to move to your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your soft skin. your tongue swirls around his tip, and mark tries hard to stop himself from shoving his cock down your throat.

you move down his cock, trying to take as much of him as you can. you have to wrap a hand at his base, twisting your fist as you bob your head. his hips buck up a little, feeling you gag around him, moaning out an apology. you hum around him, a hand moving to hold down his hip. he lets out a whine at the feeling of vibrations, one of his hands moving to tug at his hair.

“d-doing so good for me- shit, my girl is doing such a good job for me.”

the praise makes your cheeks heat up, and you quicken your movements to hear more. you swallow around him, hearing the anguished groans he lets out. your tongue slides against the underside of his cock, “such a pretty mouth, making me feel so good. you d-don’t know how much i thought about this.”

if only he knew that you feel the same way. as if to respond to him, your eyes look up at his. they almost flutter close, the sight of his cock in your mouth, your pretty eyes batting at him, and the almost glossy look to your eyes sets something off in him. he’s so close, a broken moan escaping him, “if you keep doing that, i’ll cum- oh god, please don’t stop.”

he tries to hold off to make this last longer, but every time you swallow around him, it gets hard for him to hold back. he’s losing his self control, something that you always manage to take away from him. he doesn’t know how you do it, but he thinks it’s because of all the love he holds for you.

it’s your eyes smiling at him that makes him cum. you don’t pull off of him, trying to fit more of his length into your mouth as he spills his cum down your throat. he’s letting out whines of your name, telling you how good you’ve been, how he’s so lucky to have his pretty girl do this for him. you swallow up all his cum, feeling how his cock twitches in your mouth.

you don’t pull away from him right away, causing mark to nervously laugh out at the feeling of overstimulation. you hum around him once more, causing him to let out a small whimper as he tries to pull away. you slowly pull away from him, mark letting out a huff of relief as you lazily smile at him.

“i think i would’ve passed out if you tried making me cum again.”

you move up to snuggle at his side, nuzzling your face into this neck, “now you know how i feel when i have to get you to stop eating me out.”

he whines out an it’s different! as he wraps his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. he’s warm, slightly sweaty, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. it’s quiet, hearing his heart beat in his chest with you so close to him. you could fall asleep in his arms, but you hear him whisper something above you. you ask him to repeat it, not quite catching it the first time.

“please don't leave me ever again.”

“this is my own apartment-” he laughs at your words, “plus, i think i love you too much to let myself ever leave you.”

he lets out a sigh, calmed by your words, “good. i can’t ever let my girl go anywhere anymore.”

a/n: I FINALLY FINISHED OH MY GOD. i love writing for mark and towards the end i somehow fell more in love with him... i hope u guys enjoy the second part to how it all goes, please let me know if you did!!!! hehe

taglist: @mwahaechz @froggyforyoongi @ppeachyttae @omlhyck @hazyhae @haechology @hrts4doie @kittydollzz @emvrd @pnkified @se7vnn @p4p1l0nn @jeankirsteinsgf69 @n0hyuck @yoursyuno @doejaejung @ccnicole02 @yuskitty @hyuckills @luvjoongz @sunnyeyes7 @tddyhyck @tmtxtf @arsvita @do0jaem @starfields @yoongjk @qusil @hcluvie @chaeceah @kriizztin

2K notes · View notes

dr-qian · 1 month

Text

And Then It Was [ZCL] (M)

Description: After your marriage with Chenle was arranged by your parents for a company merger, things with him aren't quite like you expect. In your life full of obligations, he's determined to finally give you the ability to make your own choices. Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (arranged marriage!au, rich families using their children as business mergers yk) Content Warnings: Rich, generational family trauma, family secrets, reader in her men suck era, explicit, protected sex, mentions of pregnancy (no actual pregnancy in the fic), reader feels obligated to have children, explicit, unprotected sex, use of the pet names 'baby' and 'darling', dirty talk, oral (f receiving) Word Count: 28.2k Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (features Jeno, Jisung, Jaemin, and Mark, but mostly Jeno and Jisung! (sorry idk where Renjun and Haechan are in this fic?????)) A/N: Y'all tumblr really f'in hates me because it was so difficult to format this fic? like it did not want to let me put the whole thing on here. So if the last section is oddly formatted, that's why and I'msosorry :'( (p.s. thank you so much for 700 followers!!!)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :) Taglist: @midmourn @nominsgirl @winwinscvnt @bugcattie @sleepyvic @chenlesfeetpic @tolerable-tears @yutaswh0re @bitchzitschimi @velvtcherie @leefullsun @pnkified @valerieluvsyu @defzcl

Chenle’s hand grips yours loosely, resting between the two of you right on the crack between the couch cushions. All of this is a formality, down to the smile plastered on your face. It started out simple, like something out of a movie, honestly, but even movies have to roll the end credits at some point.

“So, tell us the story of how you met,” the interviewer begins, crossing her legs as she looks at you in complete interest.

“We’ve known each other for ages,” Chenle says.

Lie. You’ve known of each other for ages. You’re only here with an oversized ring on your finger to complete your family’s merger with Chenle’s. What big news that was, two heirs of two of the biggest companies around the world falling in love. If only that were true in the slightest.

“Wow, way to make it sound romantic.” You laugh, reaching across to push his arm—gently, of course. “He makes it so lackluster. But to be completely transparent, it wasn’t…anything crazy. We did meet years ago, and we’ve been friends since then. Gosh, probably since we were sixteen?”

“Fifteen,” Chenle corrects you and sends an award winning smile your way. You’d be inclined to believe him if everything wasn’t scripted.

“He always has been a little more detail-oriented than me.”

The interview drags. You and Chenle were officially married just over a month ago, and while you know it’s your owed duty to your family, you wish optics weren’t so important. After all, legally binding yourself to secure a company was one thing, but physically binding yourself to a man you barely know? You wouldn’t dream of it. Even holding his hand feels odd, not to mention his palms are sweaty.

Your honeymoon had ended shortly before the interview. You’d been gone for four weeks, and it was the last bit of privacy you’d have when it comes to your ‘relationship’ with Chenle. You got to know him enough to where you’d be comfortable sharing an oversized house with him, but there were still a lot of mysteries between you two—mysteries you were sure would never get solved. There are a lot of good things about Chenle. He’s smarter than most people you’ve met, he knows how to make jokes and take them, he’s nice to look at, to hold a conversation with, but you don’t love him. You’d been of the mind that you wanted to marry for love since you were young, but some things are overshadowed by your duties. By money.

“There aren’t many people in this world that don’t just…immediately bow down to powerful men. It was…interesting to say the least, because throughout my entire life I’d always just been given respect. From the moment I met (Y/N), I knew I’d have to work for it. For her respect, I mean. She’s just as confident and much more intelligent than any other man I’ve ever worked with.” Chenle squeezes your hand.

That wasn’t in the script. It’s almost enough to have you break character and forget your next line. “Is that so?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles.

“Tried and true,” he replies with ease. “You really are extraordinary, you know.”

Can’t script a blush rising to your cheeks. It’s something about the way he makes direct eye contact with you that has your face burning.

Grinning, he turns back to the interviewer. “I have a lot of things to be grateful for in life. Truly, I do. I’m very fortunate for all of the good my family has done for me and for having things set up for me from the start. One thing I never could’ve imagined was that it could get better. Meeting her changed my life, and if I had to, I’d give everything else to keep her next to me.”

That time, your smile does fall, but you quickly catch yourself. Your heart picks up its pace in your chest, but you know it’s all part of the script. It has to be. He’d never give up his money, his family, his lifestyle for something as simple as you. You desperately want to pull your hand away, but you’ll wait until the cameras stop rolling.

As soon as you and Chenle are behind the tinted windows of his car, you drop his hand and scoot all the way over to have some semblance of peace. None of this truly makes sense to you. You’re much too young to be worried about your marriage to another person equally as young as you, yet you can’t help but mull over each word that left his mouth today.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Of course.” You pull your phone out of your purse and scroll through your social media with a sigh.

The driver pulls away from the spot, and after a few minutes, you look over to find Chenle watching you.

“What?”

“Is that it?” He clasps his hands together in his lap.

You scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are we to keep acting while we’re alone, too? It’s exhausting.”

“You don’t even want to…try to keep getting to know each other? You’re just done?” He pauses, tongue wetting his lips. “We’re here for the long haul, (Y/N). We signed a legally binding contract. Divorce isn’t an option ever. We may as well try and—”

“All due respect, Chenle, I’d rather not know you. What happens if I do, and then I hate everything about you? Ignorance is bliss. Why risk hating you when I can just tolerate you instead?”

“Is it the hate you don’t want to risk?” His question catches you off guard, the confidence laced in his tone sending sparks of irritation through you.

“Are you insinuating that you think I could fall in love with you?”

“There’s no insinuation. I’ll tell you with full certainty that you would.” Chenle’s dark eyes narrow, and he shifts in his seat. “You fear failure. But a marriage failure would be easier if you’re not in love, right? No feelings to cloud your logical judgment.”

“For such a smart man, that was an incredibly stupid statement.” You scoff, setting your phone in your lap. “This is a job, not a marriage.”

“Not according to our sealed certificate.”

“Burn it for all I care. I’m not here for you. I’m here for my family, so I could’ve been married off to anyone. Don’t think that means I’ll allow you to control me. What’s mine is still mine. If I choose to see someone outside the marriage, that’s my own choice.”

“Ah.” He inhales slowly. “You’re already in love.”

“Wrong again.”

“Then why is that the first thing you say?”

“Because I have a duty to you. An obligation. But that does not mean you’re obligated to my heart.” You look straight forward, refusing to acknowledge the heat of his stare boring into your side.

“At least make sure you’re using protection.” He clicks his tongue.

“That was also in the contract. Didn’t you read it?” You tap your foot. “‘Extramarital relations require usage of effective birth control methods, and I may not bear another man’s child.’”

“I’m sorry, what?” He gapes at you. “Are you serious right now?”

When you laugh, his eyebrows furrow deeply.

“What’s funny?”

“No, no, I just forgot. You’re the man. You’re expected to stray from the marriage because you obviously don’t have everything life can offer. It’s okay for you to get someone else pregnant because you don’t have to physically have the child. Ridiculous.”

“And you think that’s my intention? Seriously?”

“It’s an expectation in every arranged marriage, I assume.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t care what you do, Chenle. Just act like you respect me at least.”

“Okay, now hold on.” He scratches his forehead, his thought process basically written out across his face. “You were the one that mentioned extramarital relationships. I was never going to suggest it because I’d never do something like that. I don’t care what our…relationship is like, it’s still a marriage. You’re my wife, whether we like it or not, and I’m not going to do anything that would undermine you or the legacy you’ve already created. Regardless of what you believe, I do respect you. Honestly.”

“I…” you trail off, swallowing roughly. “I’d prefer silence for the rest of the drive.”

Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, but he nods.

“Do we have to share a room?” you ask as you take your earrings out. Placing them on the vanity in front of you, you stare at Chenle through the mirror, watching as he removes his suit jacket and tie.

“We don’t have to do anything.” Chenle shakes his head and untucks his shirt from his pants. “If that’s what you want, I’ll stay in another room.”

“What?” You frown. “This is your house. You should keep the master bedroom.”

“Stop thinking like that,” he says, working on his buttons. “It’s yours now, too.”

He stops halfway down, grabbing his shirt and sweatpants to change into.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” His voice seems different, almost cold. Distant.

“Chenle,” you call out, turning in your chair to face him directly.

He sighs, stops, and looks back at you. “Yeah?”

“Before you go, can we…get something out of the way?”

“More things.” He presses his lips together in a thin line, but eventually nods and takes a few steps closer. “By all means.”

This time, it’s your palms that are sweating. You grip the armrest and flounder for the words you want to say. It’s rare for you to get flustered or shy with anyone, so acting this way in front of him has heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re expected to have children,” you finally spit out. “Heirs. We carry two legacies on our backs.”

He shifts on his feet, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he glances away from you. “This is what you want to get out of the way?”

“I…I just think it’s a good idea for us to put our…expectations out there early.”

“About sex or babies?”

“The only reason we’d ever…is to have babies.” You try to maintain your strong facade, but the conversation makes you more nervous than you’d care to admit.

“Right, because thinking that you’re sleeping with me out of obligation is incredibly sexy.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “We don’t even have to have sex to get you pregnant, you know. There are other options. Do you even actually want children? Or is that purely out of obligation as well?”

“Everything I do is out of obligation.”

“Not anymore.” He walks closer, resting his hand on the edge of the vanity. “You’re my wife now. You do what you want, and you do it for you. No one else. Understood?”

You stand up, obliterating the minuscule distance between the two of you. Your chest almost brushes his, and you’re nearly distracted by his half-unbuttoned shirt. Tilting your head, you scan over his face.

“You’re saying there’s not anything you want from me?”

“Wanting and demanding are two very different things.” He doesn’t back down, his impenetrable gaze locked on yours.

“And what is it that you want?”

“For someone who doesn’t care, you sure are inquisitive,” Chenle remarks.

“Don’t let my level of interest stop you.”

His eyes narrow. “How long have we known each other?”

“I can tell you our first real conversation was just over six months ago. We were informed of this…situation.” You sigh. “Why?”

“I was relieved to find out it was you.” He gulps. “To know that you are someone I’m…attracted to. That we could maybe one day have something real in the wake of this…joke of an arrangement.”

“Relieved?”

“Yes.” He nods without hesitation. “And that is what I want. A real life, real love, real family. And while everything else may not be ideal, I’d never force you to give me any of those things. As I’ve said, you’re free to make your own choices. Whether they include me or not.”

His voice is soft, barely carrying over to you from his spot mere inches away. Your heart pounds in your chest from his proximity, his words, him. You don’t want to risk anything, and the consequences far outweigh the rewards of a relationship like this.

“Good.” You nod. “I’ll remember that.”

“I expect nothing less.” He takes a step back, unintentionally shattering the tension between the two of you. “Have a good night, (Y/N).”

But for some reason, once he closes the door behind him and leaves you alone in this giant, extravagant bedroom, you truly wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into.

“I mean, is that a bad thing?” Jisung’s voice carries through the phone, shuffling around with documents in the background.

Your cousin always did have trouble seeing things from your side. You sigh. “It is a bad thing. Why can’t he just be a normal man? I’m not going to beg anyone to impregnate me, if that’s what he’s waiting for—”

“(Y/N),” he says, tone laced with disbelief. “After that whole conversation, that’s what you got out of that? That he wants you to beg him?”

“What else am I supposed to get?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you study yourself in the mirror. Despite the stress as of late, you still seem miraculously put together.

“That he actually cares about you. And wants something real.”

“Then his family picked his wife incorrectly,” you insist. “I’m here because I was told to be. And why risk a lifetime of unhappiness and hate when we could just…tolerate each other?”

“Not everything has to be—”

“You were supposed to be on my side for this.” Your chest deflates, and you put him on speaker to apply your lipstick and put your earrings in.

“I’m always on your side, even if you think I’m not. I’ve met Chenle, too. You could’ve been much worse off for a company merger.”

“Right, so I should be grateful?” You snort. “Grateful that my husband doesn’t want to have—”

“Insufferable,” your cousin cuts you off. “You’re insufferable. The whole world is not out to get you. In the position you’re in, you need every single ally you can get. Chenle especially. He’s one of the most powerful men in the country. Imagine what that could do for you.”

“Yes, because powerful men are so enticing for me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to love him. Nobody expects that of you, but you can at least be friends with him.” Jisung clicks his tongue. “Give him a shot, okay? He’s not an asshole, and from what you’ve told me, he seems to be trying with you.”

You tap your fingers on the vanity. “I have a business meeting with him and his board. Guess I’ll see you in a few.”

“That you will. Talk to you soon.”

As the line cuts, you head out of Chenle’s—your—room, and head down the hall and out the door. Today is a new day, and the first way to present your dominance to your husband is to talk business. You’ve always been good at keeping your composure. While the buildings for your family’s company and Chenle’s were on opposite sides of town, the merger gave you unlimited access to both. Chenle was his own respective CEO, while your father still held the technical title at yours.

COO had been sitting in your pocket for years, and your father told you the only way he’d relinquish his CEO title onto you is if you married. And produced an heir without any public miscommunication. Essentially, your heir would, under no uncertain circumstances, be conceived and birthed in a conventional way.

You’re the last one to arrive in the conference room. The walls are mostly windows, overlooking the bustling city below you. You inhale deeply at the sight, and Chenle looks up at you, standing as soon as he finds you in the room. The rest of the board follows suit, and you almost scowl at the realization that the only open seat is right next to your husband. You don’t recognize any of them since this is solely for Chenle, but he insisted you were to be included on all business discussions from the moment you were married.

You stand next to Chenle, staring down at the five men around you. “Sit. Standing on my behalf is a waste of time.”

All of them listen to you, Chenle included, leaving you the lone pillar in a room full of money.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

You don’t ever apologize for being late. Some things are out of your control. Sitting, you move your chair closer to the table. Chenle leans in, close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “I told you to just drive with me.”

You turn to him, unintentionally scanning over his face while he’s so close, and give him a small, fake smile. “And I told you I travel alone.”

It’s the first time you see annoyance pull at his brows. The only thing it does for you is make you give yourself a mental tally mark. Winning is your strong suit.

“Late on the first day isn’t a good look,” the man in the back on the right says. “It’s almost as if it’s not important to you.”

“First day?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t been involved from the moment I signed a wedding certificate.”

“That’s hardly an excuse—”

“Jaemin,” Chenle interrupts him. “It won’t happen again. Leave it alone.”

Anger bubbles in your stomach as you watch the man at the end—Jaemin—immediately back down. Your words weren’t enough, but the second Chenle opens his mouth, the argument’s over? With the group of men, you talk financials from last quarter. You follow along easily thanks to the binder of data Chenle provided you with. Stopping on the fourth page, you frown.

Leaning over to Chenle, you nudge his shoulder. When you point at the page, his eyes follow. You turn your head to whisper in his ear, “This charge isn’t itemized. Little amounts may be fine, but a $143,000 charge with no itemization from one of your departments can’t be normal.”

“You’ve got sharp eyes,” he mutters, almost appreciatively.

“Obligations make you that way,” you return, brushing your hair back as you lean against your chair. Chenle’s button-up sleeves are rolled to his elbows, the tip of his pen tapping on the table as he listens to Jisung talk.

Chenle’s smart not to bring anything up just yet, as he’s likely to do more research before asking his team what is going on with something like that. You cross your legs and listen intently, but most of it is beyond your scope in his company, anyway.

“You’ll also have to decide on new positions as well.” Another man speaks up from beside your cousin.

“And what positions are those, Mark?” Chenle asks.

“COO and CFO nominations for the board to vote.”

“There isn’t any need for nominations for COO.” Chenle frowns.

“Why’s that?” One of the men, Jeno, follows up.

“Isn’t it obvious? The only person qualified for such a role is my wife.” Chenle crosses his arms over his chest, but this time, you can’t stop your outward reaction. Your jaw drops as all eyes fall on you, and you give him an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?”

“Why is this a surprise?” he inquires, gaze meeting yours.

It’s a surprise because nowhere in your signed contract did it say you were entitled to a position of power at his company.

“(Y/N) is an excellent candidate. She’s done great things at my uncle’s company,” Jisung butts in, nodding at you. “If it were up to a vote, she’d have mine.”

“We’ll reconvene for the vote. I have several candidates for CFO listed in the binders you received today, so you may vote on those as well.” Chenle pauses.

You don’t realize your leg bouncing up and down until his palm presses against your knee. The movement is undetectable to everyone else, but it makes every ounce of air dissipate from your lungs. You calm down in an instant, no matter how much you hate to say it, and you clench your fists together in your lap.

“For now, my wife and I are going home,” he continues. “Have a good and productive day today.”

Everyone stands as he does, and you stare at him briefly when he extends his arm out to you. In that split second, you make eye contact with Jisung, who nods in encouragement. You let out a nearly invisible sigh, but you wrap your fingers around the crook of his elbow and allow him to lead you from the room. Once you’re far enough away from everyone, he still doesn’t let you go, a somewhat proud half-smile on his face. “After you pointed out that discrepancy, I almost switched gears and made you CFO instead.”

“You’ll learn quite fast that numbers aren’t really my strong suit.” You don’t even attempt to remove your grip on him. “My attention to detail makes up for the…lack of numerical intelligence.”

“I hope I didn’t take you too off-guard.” He opens the door to the building, disconnecting your arms to place his hand on the small of your back to guide you.

“Please.” You chuckle and shake your head. “You? Take me off-guard?”

“Competitive, too, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at you as he glances around at the different people with cameras surrounding you. Whether to keep you away from them or to keep up appearances, his hand slides from your back to your hip, gently pulling you closer to his side.

“Let’s just say I stopped being invited to family game night,” you admit.

Once the two of you make it to the car, you barely realize you’re disobeying your own rule of traveling alone. He grasps your hand to help you into the backseat, ignoring the flashing lights behind him as he watches you slide over.

He gets in after you, closing the door with a huff. “That’ll be a headline tomorrow.”

“You helping me into the car?”

“You smiled at me.”

“We’re married.”

“Nobody believes it.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.

After a moment of your silence, he reaches over to grab your hand. You surprise even yourself when you allow him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your problem. And it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks.”

“Don’t apologize.” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter, Chenle. We’ll get our…obligations out of the way, and then you can find the love you claim you want.”

His jaw tightens as he looks forward, his grip on you loosening. “Right.”

“Why?” you ask. “Why is that what you want? With me, or with anyone.”

“Love is good for you.” He shrugs. “To have someone who actually cares for you more than themselves just because they want to. Ever since I was young, I wanted to marry for love, but I’d always understood it wasn’t in the cards for me. But I figured I’d at least be able to try. With whoever it was, at least I’d be able to try to be a proper husband.”

There’s much more complexity behind Chenle than what you initially gave him credit for. You figured he’d be the typical CEO, a man high on power who will do everything and anything to not only keep it, but to grow his influence. The version of him you see now doesn’t support that original thought, but you have a hard time believing it.

“Life is already dull and loveless as it is. Rich families don’t exactly enjoy time with their relatives. I figured you, of all people, would understand where I’m coming from in that aspect.” He fidgets with his wedding band. “I don’t want to bring children into a world where they won’t be loved.”

“You think I wouldn’t love my own children?” you ask.

“That’s not what I said.” He glances at you. “Children deserve a complete family. One with parents who not only love them, but each other. I didn’t have that growing up, and I refuse to put anyone else through it.”

“I see.” You understand his point all too well, but you don’t see the big deal. Even if you two were in love and had children, wouldn’t you still have nannies and cooks and all of the things that you had as a child?

“Again, I’m not forcing you into anything. So, you don’t have to try with me if you don’t want to. But I’m not searching for it somewhere else. Since we…are obligated to have children, I wouldn’t put them through a situation where they view their father as a cheater. When I signed that contract and the marriage certificate, I signed my life away to you. Sure, it wasn’t in a traditional way or necessarily…by choice, but we’re here.”

“Wow, you sure know how to woo a woman.”

“You’ve made your stance clear. All I ask is that whoever you…” he trails off and scoffs. “Whoever you decide to be with, you keep them away from any future children. And we’ll never force them into a marriage like this.”

“You want our children to marry for love?”

“Of course, I do.” He nods.

“Chenle, I…”

This time, you reach over to him to stop his excessive movement. The second your fingers wrap around his wrist, he stops.

“I think the same way you do. Hopefully, we respect each other enough not to be caught. Publicly or by children.”

“So, you really…There’s no chance? Of anything real between us?”

Your heart comes to a dead-stop in your chest, and the word ‘no’ hangs on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to actually say it. It’s one simple syllable, but it’s so heavy in your mouth, you fear opening it will wreak havoc.

“I…I don’t know,” you reply, gulping.

He turns his hand so your palms are touching, and then he squeezes you gently. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. It’s okay to let yourself have things you want, too. Not everything has to be an obligation.”

Before you can speak, the driver is opening the door for you and Chenle to get out. The two of you make your way into the house, but you’re honestly not sure where to go from here. You head upstairs toward the master bedroom to take off your dress.

“(Y/N),” Chenle calls, stopping you in your tracks. He continues, “I have to get clothes to change into. They’re still all in the master, but I’ll have the staff move them by the end of the week.”

You wet your lips. Standing on the third stair makes you taller than him, and he looks up at you with only kindness behind his brown eyes. You want to hate him. Or to only tolerate him. But through the moments of kindness, you know he’s the type of man you could be friends with. You could—

You stop that thought before it completes. “It’s your house. Do whatever you need to.”

He joins you on the third step and leans closer to you. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?” You tilt your head.

“Remember that everything I have is yours, too. This house belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. As much as you hate to think so, I know you, (Y/N). The ball is in your court. You make the decisions around here, whether it’s what color the walls are or twenty kids running around the hallways. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”

You gape at him, face red as he leans away from you and continues up the stairs without looking back at you. Once he’s far enough away, you clear your throat and pat your cheeks. Regaining your composure, you follow him up and find him working on the buttons of his shirt, his tie discarded on the bed.

“Does this bother you?” he asks. “I can go.”

“What makes you think it bothers me?”

“You’re staring.”

You head over to the closet instead of responding to him, more than ready to put pants on instead of the dress that’s much too tight for comfort. Once you’ve picked out your new clothes, you stay where you’re at and reach behind you for the zipper. After a few moments of struggling with it, you finally give up and decide to use your resources.

“Chenle?” you call out.

When he appears in the doorway, his shirt is absent, and you were pretty sure he’d been wearing a belt before. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the frame, awaiting you to tell him what you need. You don’t have to actually speak. Instead, you turn your back to him and pull your hair over your shoulder. He hums behind you, keeping a respectable amount of distance before he grips the zipper.

“What did you do before me?” he asks, hesitant to pull it down.

“Staff.” You shrug. “But I mostly wore things I knew I’d be able to—”

The familiar sound and the rush of cool air against your heated skin as he reveals more of you has your breath catching in your throat. You cut yourself off, immediately reaching up to hold the dress to your chest.

“I’m a very accommodating man, (Y/N).” His voice sinks into every inch of you. “If you need something, tell me. I’m your husband. It’s quite literally my job to ensure you’re happy, darling.”

The heat radiating from his bare skin so close to yours has every thought in your brain flying away. Logically, there’d be nothing wrong with giving in to your temptation. It’d been a long time since anyone had touched you, and the man behind you is your husband. Physical attraction had nothing to do with emotions or feelings, so it was okay. One thing you’d never be able to deny is how he’s one of the most beautiful men you’d ever met. Your parents could’ve chosen much, much worse for you.

His voice centimeters from your ear startles you out of your trance. He says, “I wonder what you’re thinking about. You seem a bit distracted.”

“Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“Truly.”

“I need to change.”

“Do you?” He trails a finger up your spine. “You’re so soft. What an odd comparison to that steel wall you’re forcing yourself to keep up.”

“I think you’re forgetting your own boundaries.” You clench your fist into the fabric of your dress. “This wouldn’t be real.”

“What even is this?” His breath fans across your neck, and you’re sure you feel the sublest brush of his lips on your skin. “Tell me where you think this is going. After all, I’m helping you with your dress like a good husband.”

“My dress was dealt with minutes ago.”

“Darling.” He tsks. “If your dress was dealt with already, it would be long, long gone.”

Even like this, you refuse to let him win. If this were to be the extent of your relationship with Chenle, you’d be fine with that. You crave satisfaction, and you also know this is a means to an end. This may be the key to giving your family those fucking heirs they want so badly. In a bold move, you release your grip on the fabric and allow it to crumple at your feet.

“What?” You tilt your head, grinning when his breathing halts. “Are you the only one who can deliver?”

He places his hand on your hip. “Can I touch you here?”

“Mhm,” you inhale sharply when he squeezes, trying your best not to roll back against him.

“Here?” he whispers, splaying his fingers out along your stomach.

“What’s your goal?” you ask, looking back at him over your shoulder. “You seem like you want something from me.”

His face is much too close to yours, but for some reason, it does little to bother you. When his lips part, you don’t mean to squirm in his touch. His eyes sweep over your expression, his touch edging just a little further downward until he can play with the lace hem of your panties.

“I’ve told you what I want already.” His gaze locks on your mouth. “Everything. I want it all.”

You gulp, unable to speak for fear of making a fool of yourself.

“What about me makes this hard for you?” he asks.

Despite the softness of his voice, your proximity to him means you see the hint of hurt swimming around in his dark irises. The heat of his bare skin on yours has everything inside you awakening, but you can’t give him what he wants.

“The choice is yours.” He takes a deep breath. “Going forward, the choice is always yours to make. I’m yours in any way you want me.”

The atmosphere around you is so warm, charged, you can’t help the way you struggle to breathe. You lean closer to him, and when your lips brush his, his grip around you tightens. Before he’s able to initiate a real kiss, a knock sounds on the bedroom door.

“Mr. Zhong, you have a visitor.”

“God damn it,” he curses under his breath, annoyance replacing whatever vulnerability you’d just seen. Stepping away from you, he grabs a shirt for you and hands it to you.

You accept it quickly, embarrassment flooding through your system as reality sets in and you realize what you’d done. He stops in the doorway, stealing one more glance at you before he runs his fingers through his hair and walks out.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself, patting your cheeks.

Your skin where he touched you suddenly feels much too cold, and you give yourself a few moments to calm down as you search for a pair of pants to put on. You pick your dress up off the floor and put it with your dirty laundry. You tie your hair up to get yourself to cool down, and then you follow Chenle out to see who saved you from making a decision you wouldn’t be able to come back from.

“You came all the way here to deliver a report?” Chenle’s voice cuts through the air before you’re able to see him, and you hear the agitation flooding through it.

You round the corner and stop at the top of the stairs, finding Chenle in the foyer with one of the men from the meeting earlier standing right inside the doorway with a binder. He’d slipped his shirt back on, retucked it, and even rolled his sleeves up. His hands are deep in his pockets.

“It couldn’t wait,” the man says.

“There are plenty of things that can’t wait in this world, and they wait anyway, Jeno.” Chenle shifts on his feet. “But you’re here, so give it to me.”

Jeno hands Chenle the binder, and he opens it. At the realization of what it is, the latter’s eyes close.

“You’re telling me that this has been going on for years?”

“Before you were even CEO, yes.” Jeno nods.

“My father knows about this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What is your father supposed to know about?” you ask, finally making your presence known as you make your way down the stairs.

Chenle turns to you, his jaw clenching as his gaze travels on its own accord. “The amount you pointed out earlier. It’s not just one payment. There’s…an entire binder full of payments to someone that aren’t accounted for. That’s $143,000 a quarter, for longer than I’ve even been able to—”

“Should she really be involved in this?” Jeno grabs Chenle’s arm.

“She’s the COO of the company.” Chenle frowns at the other man. “And she’s my wife. If this is going on, it affects her, too.”

The other man releases him, and you join Chenle at his side. At this point, even pressing your arm against his is far too much contact for you, yet you crave it all the same.

“It’s new for them,” you remind your husband. “They’re not used to me yet. They’ll learn in due time.”

“Right.”

You hold your hand out for the reports, and he gives it to you. You flip through, noting the dates corresponding with the payments.

“I wouldn’t bring it up to your father,” you mention.

“What?” Chenle recoils. “Why not?”

“These charges have been happening for years,” you point out. “There’s a chance he might know about them. That he could be the one—”

“That’s impossible,” Chenle interrupts you, his posture immediately straightening out as he stands rigid.

“It’s not.” You keep your voice soft in an attempt to neutralize the situation, and you reach for his wrist. “All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t rule anyone out. We need to keep this within a circle while we do research. No one else can know that this has even been caught.”

As soon as your fingers wrap around him, the tension in his body melts away. He lets out a sigh, wets his lips, and nods. “You’re right. We’ll look into it.” He turns to Jeno. “No one can know about this. This stays between the three of us.”

“Of course,” Jeno confirms. “I’ll leave you with that information now. Have a good night, you two.”

“Thanks,” Chenle says.

Jeno leaves, the echo of the door closing behind him leaving you and Chenle draped in an awkward silence. You place the binder on the table on the glass table, turning to face your husband.

“Are you alright?” Chenle asks.

“Me?” You raise your eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gives you a pointed look, one that tells you he’s in no way wanting to beat around the bush. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m…okay, yes. Maybe a little flustered, but I didn’t…hate what happened, if that’s what you’re asking.” You avoid his gaze, rolling your eyes as you stare off past him to the ornate details of the front door.

“We’re married,” he points out.

“Yes, I’m acutely aware of that fact, thank you.” Your fingers find the band of your wedding ring.

He pauses, but his gaze leaves goosebumps all over your body as he trails over you. “It’s clear we’re…attracted to each other. And you’re still sure you’d rather not attempt a real relationship.”

“We’ve talked about this.” You glance around, like the staff overhearing is the most embarrassing thing you’ll deal with.

“Not enough.”

“What else could we possibly add to that?”

“I don’t want us to tolerate each other, (Y/N). At the very least, we should try to be friends.” He takes a step closer to you.

You’ve been confronted by a lot of men in your life. There have been even more men who doubted your abilities, but none of them had ever intimidated you. Chenle, standing in front of you with a determined look on his face, intimidates you. A part of you—no matter how small it may be—knows he’s everything he says he is and more. He could give you the life you’ve always wanted, but you’re sure you don’t deserve it. Not until you’ve fulfilled your portion of the contract and take your place as CEO. Only then can you allow yourself to let go.

“Do you want me?” he asks. “In any way?”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him honestly. “But I do.”

“When we were on our honeymoon, or the semblance of whatever that was, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how we were forced into this arrangement, yet none of it…None of it feels wrong. You may not have paid me much attention beforehand, but for years before we were ever to be married, I’ve admired you. Your willpower and the way you hold your own. The independence you have. Your autonomy. I envy you.”

“Why? Why envy me?”

“Look at yourself.” Chenle puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to look into the floor-length mirrors against the wall. “I’m not talking about how beautiful you are, even though that’s definitely an added bonus. I mean the utter tenacity you have flowing through your veins. The way you can command attention the second you walk into a room. How you’re unafraid to put men with decades of more experience in their places. You are…unapologetically yourself. This life, one of business, is significantly easier for me as a man, yet you’ve absolutely bulldozed everyone in your way.”

“Chenle—”

“I’m not done.” He taps his fingers against you.

Seeing him standing behind you in these mirrors is making your heart race, your brain jolting with electricity, and inexplicable thoughts running around your mind. He looks good like this. He watches you fondly, the admiration in his gaze evident.

“But you’re honest, too. With your intentions and with the way you want to live your life. I wish you’d give me the chance to prove how things could be, but like I said before, these choices are yours alone. Don’t get that confused with me not wanting to try. Because I’ll keep trying as long as you want me in…whatever way.”

You turn to him, craning your neck to look at him with your hands flat on his chest. “I’m beginning to think you’re crazy.”

“If trying to give my wife the life she deserves is crazy, then I’ll gladly claim that title.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Something tells me you might come around someday.”

“I wish you saw things the way I do,” you mutter.

“I think the same way. But as much as I understand your fears, they shouldn’t hinder you in your life. You’re allowed to explore all aspects. Business. Joy. Intimacy. Love.”

“And you’re an expert on intimacy?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Expert might be a strong word, but I won’t ever lie to you. I’ve been in love in the past and gotten hurt because of it. But every heartbreak is worth it if it leads you to the person you were made for.” His hands slide to your hips, fingertips barely applying any pressure. “If we find we’re not good for each other, I’d let you go. You’re bound to me in a legal sense only. Paper. It means nothing unless we make it mean something.”

“You…scare me,” you breathe out. “This scares me.”

“We’re doing something right, then.” He lets out a short chuckle. “But I like this. Being close to you. Knowing that we’d be so much better as a team than as roommates.”

“I’ve always worked alone.”

“Does that mean you’ve never been in love?”

You shake your head. “Never. I don’t give myself the time to feel things like that.”

“So, feel.” His finger brushes below your chin, angling you so your eyes meet his. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

“I—”

“Don’t think. Feel.”

“I…I’m nervous. You can’t be real. I’ve only been burned in the past, but it feels like you’d…just keep me warm. I don’t know if I want that.” You gulp past the unexplainable lump in your throat. “It’s…overwhelming.”

“What can I do to help you?” Chenle asks. “Whatever you need. Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.”

“You.” Your voice almost refuses to work. “I want you, but I…I need time to see if that’s really it or if I’m tricking myself in order to fulfill these stupid obligations set for me.”

“Which obligations?”

“Heirs.” You avert your gaze, but he gently pulls you right back.

“Take whatever time you need. I mean it. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to push you into any situations like that.” He reaches up and plays with a strand of your hair. “But there are…plenty of ways to explore that side of our relationship without pregnancy being a risk. Or a reward, if that’s what you view it as.”

Your face burns. Never before has a man made you blush.

“With that in the open, does removing the pregnancy factor make you want me any less?”

You contemplate. While you’d love to say that portion of your contract was the last thing on your mind, you thought of it frequently. But thoughts of what he’s mentioning has your insides twisting and turning in every way, with or without heirs being involved. When he touched you earlier, his hands on your bare skin, that genuinely wasn’t a thought. You want him for personal gain, but not in the way you originally assumed.

“Never less,” you murmur. The warmth around you becomes unbearable, yet you still find yourself shivering. “I think we need to come back to this at a different time.”

“Of course.” He takes a step back, allowing cool air to rush over you. Grabbing the binder from the table, he gestures for you to follow him into his office. “Shall we move on to some numbers, then?”

Finally, you laugh shortly. “Yeah. Yes, that sounds good.”

After two hours of studying the documents, spreadsheets, and all the other information Jeno brought for Chenle, the two of you have gotten as far as discovering the payments were sent to the same bank account. Stress is written across his face, and eventually, you slide the binder away from him.

“You’re going to run yourself into the ground,” you scold him. “It’s time for a break.”

“What time is it?” he asks, massaging his forehead.

“Almost 8pm.” You lean back in your chair and cross your legs.

His lips part in shock, and he checks his watch. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t even…you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Neither have you,” you point out.

“We’ve already established that you’re more important.” He lets out a sigh, partially filled with frustration. “You know what? Why don’t you get changed and we’ll go out?”

“Together?” Your eyes widen.

“We’re married. It’d be weird if we went by ourselves.”

“Right, of course. Um, anything in particular I should wear?”

“The choice is yours.” He grins, and like it’s the easiest thing in the world, robs all of the oxygen from your lungs. You realize then that you don’t see him smile much, but the pang in your heart can only mean you want to see it over and over again.

“Okay.” You nod and stand. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Take your time. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“You sure you don’t want to pick?” you offer one last time.

“While that would honestly be an honor, darling, I’m trying to prove a point here.” He lifts himself to his feet and reaches across the desk to close the binder. “I could use a drink.”

You give him a small smile before you exit his office. Once he’s out of sight, you practically bound up the stairs. You’d been on dates before, sure, but this feels different. You know better than to let yourself look too far ahead, so once you’re in your closet, you want to make sure you wear something nice. You pick a dress you’re sure you can get yourself out of. Unlike your outfit from earlier, this one isn’t as tight to your figure, and the soft color matches you well. For business meetings, you only wear black. Wearing bright colors hasn’t ever brought you success, but you figure you can wear the purple for a date with your husband.

A date. Is it a date?

That part of it doesn’t matter. This dress makes you feel good about yourself, truly. Disgust immediately sends a shiver down your spine when you realize you’re beginning to ponder how Chenle will perceive you. He’s a man. You could wear a trash bag and he’d think you did something revolutionary. Brushing the skirt of your dress off, you grab a pair of heels, slide them on, and head back down the stairs. He waits by the door, his suit jacket back on and buttoned in the middle. He turns at the sound of your shoes on the floor, and he freezes in his spot.

“What?” you inquire.

“I just…I’ve never seen you in that color before.” He clears his throat, but his cheeks tinge with a light, barely noticeable pink. “You…it suits you well.”

“Thank you.” Before you attempt to leave the door, he grabs your jacket from the rack and drapes it over your shoulders.

“It’s cold, darling,” he mutters, making sure the fabric is secure on your shoulders.

“You don’t think it ruins the outfit?”

“Not a chance. Jacket or not, it’s my favorite of yours.”

“Relax with the compliments. You’re making me blush.” You brush your fingertips against his shoulder and exit the house.

“My hard work is paying off. Good to know.” He closes the door behind him and guides you to the car with his hand on the small of your back. “I’ll stop with the compliments if you ever stop deserving them. Which I doubt will happen, by the way.”

The drive is thirty minutes, and the city is still bustling by the time Chenle is helping you out of the car. His palm against yours makes your stomach flip, and you’re beginning to hate this effect he has on you. It seems like it hit you out of nowhere, and you’d prefer if it were to sink back into the depths of hell where it came from in the first place. But before you know it, you’re a glass and a half deep of wine, you’ve eaten enough pasta to get you through the night, and Chenle’s in the exact same boat you’re in. Between the two of you, you’ve finished a bottle, and it seems as if your husband is debating ordering another one.

You hide a laugh with another sip from your glass and shake your head. “I cannot believe we’re this out of order.”

“The order doesn’t matter as long as the end result is desirable. Isn’t that true?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Mm, I’ve always been an order of operations girl. Everything has to happen in the exact right way.” You set your drink down and rest your head on your palm.

“I just realized I know…nothing about your past. Please, tell me what the younger version of you was like. What kind of trouble did you get into?”

“Wow, what makes you assume I got into trouble?” you tease him, unable to fight your smile.

He sucks in a deep breath and pats his legs. “God, I’m not sure. It couldn’t be the way you never take no for an answer or how you absolutely run over everyone in your way.”

“I’ll have you know that I am a very composed human.” You run your tongue over your teeth.

“I’d expect nothing less, to be honest.” He gives you a soft smile. “And for the record, I enjoy those qualities. There aren’t many people in this world that would be unafraid of calling me out if I’m doing something wrong.”

“You mean earlier.”

“I mean in general, but that does apply, yes.”

“I only want to be a balance for you.” You look down at the red liquid in your cup. “We’re meant to complement each other now, yeah?”

“I think we were the most strategic pair…ever.” Chenle nods.

“Can I be honest with you?” You take another sip.

“Absolutely.”

“You asked me earlier what about you makes this situation hard. Or what about you makes it hard for me to…let go of certain views.” You clear your throat, dreading the conversation more than you’d care to admit. “I feel like it’s…because a part of me knows the greatness we’d be capable of together. But I’ve worked hard to build my own greatness, and I can almost guarantee the second this becomes real, my greatness becomes ours.”

“Ah.” He purses his lips. “I won’t lie to you. There will be people that see it that way. But by being married to me, those people already exist.”

“I’m not talking about other people. I don’t care about them or their opinions.” You finish off your glass.

“You…you mean me?” His eyes widen in shock.

“That is a fear I have.”

He flounders for a second, and he scrambles for words for the first time all day. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say to make this better. I…(Y/N), I know my promises probably don’t mean much to you at this point, but I’d never discount you like that. Or take credit for anything you’ve done. How can I make that clearer?”

“It’s not your issue to correct.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “It’s mine. And I don’t say it to make you feel responsible, but as a forewarning, I guess. Being a woman and working my way to the top just to have…this thrust upon me is a little redundant.”

“You never wanted to marry in the first place.” It’s not a question.

“That’s correct.”

He blows out a long breath and looks down at his hands, twisting the wedding band on his finger. “You never saw this in the cards for you.”

“I knew I’d eventually have to marry for company purposes. My father would never let himself die before he knows I’ve carried on his line.” You snort and shake your head. “But I figured all of these types of marriages were the same. People signed their paperwork and barely acknowledged each other unless it was to reproduce.”

Chenle lets out a laugh. “Your word choice is interesting.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You cover your mouth as you join him in laughter. “I just never thought you’d be…you.”

“I live to prove to you that you can have everything. We can be happy, have a real family, and still be at the top of our field. Both independently and together.”

Fortunately for the both of you, Chenle doesn’t order the second bottle of wine. Instead, he pays the bill and leads you from the restaurant with his arm wrapped around your waist. He opens the car door for you, and as you place your hand in his to enter, he squeezes your hand gently. Once you get home, the two of you separate at the top of the stairs, him heading off to a spare room down the hall while you step into the room that technically belongs to him. You change without interrupt, your silk nightgown soft on your skin as you climb into bed.

You stare up at the ceiling, tracing along it with your eyes as if you were drawing a map. Where the destinations were you had yet to figure out, but you imagined a whole new world up there, one where you didn’t have to have this wall up. One where you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for a shred of respect you more than deserve. One where you didn’t have to be scared of what Chenle was trying to offer you.

You sigh, clutching the blanket to your chest. The wine has since settled in your system, yet your blood still runs warm. The map on the ceiling becomes mountains, oceans, continents. It forms real shapes, real geography in your mind, but you find the destination right in the middle is where you truly want to be. When you look at your phone, the time is already past 2 a.m., and you’re not anywhere near tired. You’re startled by the knock. You shuffle out of bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you crack the door open slightly.

Chenle stands there, hands buried deep in his sweatpants. His eyes sweep over you as you open the door wider.

“You’re up,” he comments.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You shrug. “You’re up. And here.”

“I was hoping I could talk to you.” He pauses. “I can’t stop thinking, and I just really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Your heart skips a beat. As much as you hate it, warmth spreads through your entire being at the thought of his first idea being you.

“This is your room, Chenle. I’m not going to tell you you can’t come in your own bedroom.” You step back to give him space to walk in, but he stays put outside, staring at you as if he’s seeing straight into your soul. You give him a pointed look, but give in. “Yes, it’s okay for you to come in here. I’d prefer company as well.”

He shuffles past you, tiredness clearly weighing down as the bottoms of his feet slide across the hardwood floor. You watch him closely, admiring him. Quickly, you realize that he fits into any room he walks in. He belongs anywhere and everywhere, and within moments, he makes you feel something you’ve only ever been able to provide for yourself until this moment—safe.

“Sorry,” he whispers with a sigh. “I need to stop thinking.”

“Trust me, I get it. Me too.” You stand with your arms still crossed over your chest and you rock back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“I shouldn’t bore you.” He waves you off and sits on the edge of his bed. “How are you adjusting?”

“I’m okay. I’m not complaining about my accommodations.” You move and sit next to him, putting your hand on his knee. “You won’t bore me. If something’s bothering you, I want to try and help.”

His eyes sparkle even in the dark. The landscapes of the map you drew reflect in his gaze, and you swear you see every mountain, every body of water, entire worlds forming in his irises. How have you never seen this before? Why are you seeing it now?

“The payments,” he murmurs. “The idea that my father might know about them. Might be facilitating them. It’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

“When I said that, I didn’t mean to upset you.” You reach over and grab his hand. “We just need to take precaution when it comes to situations like this. If it is him and he knows we’re onto him, it might be…a bigger issue than it needs to be.”

“I know that. I guess it’s the idea that he’d be capable of something like that.” Chenle stares down at the way your thumb traces against his skin.

“You look up to him.”

“I did. I do. A lot, actually, so this seems so…backwards. That’s a lot of money per quarter, you know? I could only imagine what it’s going towards.” He turns his hand around so your palms are touching, and he gently intertwines your fingers. “Sorry, I should’ve asked if this was okay.”

“It’s more than okay. Don’t worry about me. Keep talking.”

“My parents never really loved each other. They grew to love their life together, but not each other. And despite that, I had a decent time growing up. They were good parents to me, and that’s what truly matters at the end of the day, but it makes me wonder if they’re…not these great people I’ve made them out to be in my head.” He lets out a short chuckle. “This sounds pathetic.”

“Hey.” Before you realize what you’re doing, you reach up to cup his cheek and bring his gaze back to yours. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not pathetic. These are valid concerns, and if you’ve been lied to for this long, you have every right to be upset.”

You’re so distracted by him, you barely even recognize the softness of his face. Your thumb runs gently along his cheekbone, and you watch as the frown fades from his features. Something you can’t recognize forms behind his irises, yet it still feels familiar. How do you explain how the normal beat of your heart hurts? How do you tell him that seeing him upset like this feels like needles running along your skin?

“My father would tell me I was foolish for hoping for love,” Chenle whispers. “He said it was a waste of time, since any man as busy as we are just isn't suited for it. For families.”

“If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would’ve agreed with him.” You squeeze his hand and give him a small smile.

“Something changed?” he asked.

“I don’t think that way anymore,” you admit. “Now, I’ve realized it’s about the amount of effort someone is willing to put in. It has nothing to do with time. We make time for those we care about.”

He leans into your touch as his eyes flutter shut. You admire the angelic glow the stars leave on his skin, and despite how tired he is, he’s still so fucking beautiful. Your throat dries at the sight, and you hate how it feels like your insides are at war.

“I like this,” he tells you. “Being with you like this.”

“Me, too.” You smile, even though he can’t see you. “You should try and sleep though. You’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

His chest visibly deflates, and he places his hand on top of yours to pull it away from his face. “Of course. I…I’ll get going.”

You recoil, but you don’t let go of his other hand. “Oh. Is that what you want?” Nerves crawl around in your stomach. You figured he’d stay with you tonight, in his own bed. That maybe the two of you would learn to be better comforted by each other’s presence.

“You’re tired, and I’m keeping you up. I was inconsiderate.” He clears his throat.

“No, no,” you quickly interject. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m only worried about you, so I was hoping you’d stay with me.”

“In here?” he asks.

You nod. “Yes. If it were my choice, you’d stay.”

“Damn, you got me there.” He delivers a tired grin and ultimately agrees. “I’d love that, (Y/N). Truly.”

You let him settle in beneath the comforter first, and he lifts it to allow you room to slide in next to him. Neither of you say anything else, but things seem to fall together naturally. He opens his arms, you push yourself against his chest, and then he wraps you up tightly in his warm embrace. He smells faintly of cologne, a soft, woody scent that engulfs you pleasantly. Despite the way you failed to fall asleep earlier, you struggle to remember a time you’d ever fallen into your dream world faster.

When you wake without Chenle in the morning, you’re sure you dreamed the last portion of the night. That is, until you see that it’s almost 10 am. You gasp and launch yourself out of bed. You never sleep in this late, so you quickly dress yourself and get ready for the day. Chenle’s side of the bed is mussed, so you determine it was, indeed, not a dream, and you make sure you look as presentable as your normal standard before you go downstairs to find where your husband disappeared to. The smell of breakfast emanates from the kitchen, so you naturally gravitate that way. When you step into the room, you’re taken aback by the company present. Not just your own parents, but Chenle’s as well. Your husband stands at the end of the table, clearly stressed with all of the people in your kitchen. He notices you first and breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of you.

“Wow,” you say as you approach Chenle and stand next to him. “Were we expecting everyone today?”

“Nope.” He chuckles and, much to apparently both of your surprises, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek. “Everyone showed up an hour or so ago.”

Through the burning of your cheeks, your gaze shoots up to his and you lower your voice. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked really comfortable.” He shrugs.

“(Y/N), Chenle was just telling us that you’re accepting the COO position at his company,” your mother butts in. Of course, business talk immediately.

“Yes, we—”

“Isn’t that a little early? And don’t you have enough responsibilities as COO of my company?” your father grumbles, and you already start to shrink into yourself in his presence.

“She’s more than capable,” Chenle defends you. “If I didn’t think she could handle it, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t interrupt their family discussions, Chenle, that’s rude,” his mother scolds him.

“This marriage was a merger, was it not?” Chenle raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that technically make our families interconnected now?”

“We’ll consider them officially connected when she’s had her first child.” Your father points his finger at you. “Speaking of which, what’s taking so long?”

Your jaw drops, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s one thing to talk about your husband getting you pregnant with your own father, but him being so comfortable spitting things out like that in front of Chenle’s parents as well has you feeling queasy.

“We’ve been married for two months.”

“Your mother was pregnant after three weeks.”

“I don’t really want to hear about you impregnating my mother—”

“You’re making excuses, (Y/N), you know what’s on the line here.” Your father tsks at you, sipping from his water glass.

“Sir, all due respect, but it’s not like we knew each other very well. We’re both still getting comfortable with each other. And we’re young. We have plenty of time to have children.” As soon as the words leave Chenle’s mouth, you reach over and grasp his hand. It’s not visible below the table, but he squeezes you in reassurance.

“And what happens if she were to die tomorrow? My bloodline dies with her?” Your father narrows his eyes at Chenle. Your heart sinks in your chest, and you scratch your forehead.

“Even if she were to be pregnant, if she died tomorrow there wouldn’t be an heir either way,” your husband replies.

“Is there a reason we’re having such a lovely family reunion?” you butt in, hoping to curve their conversation.

“Do we need a reason to visit our daughter?” your mother asks.

“Typically, yes.” You shrug. “You never show up unannounced.”

“Oh, I take it they haven��t seen the tabloids,” Chenle’s father mentions.

You stand from your spot and pull your phone out of your pocket to check. You hear Chenle whisper something to the group before he pushes his chair back to join you. Despite the anxiety crawling up your spine, the warmth of him right behind you calms you.

“They came here because there’s a couple articles of people being shocked that we like each other?” you hiss, tossing your phone on the counter.

“Breathe,” Chenle tells you, putting his hands on your shoulders. “They’ll eventually leave us alone, but we’ve got to placate them for now.”

“Placate them?” You turn to him and raise your eyebrow. “You exchanged words with my father.”

“He said stupid things.” Chenle shrugs.

You chuckle. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ah, but you said the people are surprised we like each other, so I’m assuming you enjoy how ridiculous I am.” He bites back a grin when he sees you blush.

“God, you’ve got to stop doing that.” You push gently at his chest and walk back to your parents and your in-laws.

“I’m not sure this is really something that should have blame assigned,” Chenle’s mother says. “I’ve seen married couples go years without children.”

You curse under your breath. Of course, this is still the topic of conversation.

“That’s not how it works in this family. Heirs come first immediately after marriage.” Your mother sips from a champagne flute.

“Well, that’s hardly Chenle’s fault—”

“He’s a man. How hard is it to impregnate a woman?” Your mother scoffs. “Please, she’s not ugly by any means.”

“Mother, dear God,” you snap. “Why in the world are we still talking about this?”

“I’m sorry, are you questioning my son’s…viability?” Chenle’s father narrows his eyes.

You want to combust into flames right then and there. The immediate assumption that the reason behind you not being with child yet is that Chenle simply can’t get it up. How fucking great.

“I’m just saying, there were other men contending for a contract that were more than willing—”

“That’s enough,” you shout.

You have four shocked faces staring at you, and you feel Chenle go rigid behind you.

“I am beyond tired of this conversation already. We’ve only been married for two months, and that’s just not enough time. I barely even knew him when I married him, and we’re trying to do this the normal way. As normally as we can.” You pause. “I’m the one that wants to wait. And it is a want, not a necessity, so neither of us are…sexually dysfunctional.”

Chenle holds back a laugh behind you, but four sets of eyes are still on you. And while it’s technically not the truth—as you’ve stated multiple times you’d be okay with having an heir quickly—you’d rather this portion of it fall on you than on him. Your parents would lose their minds.

“And let’s not forget that (Y/N) is a human with a career that’s just as important as mine,” your husband adds. “Having a child at this time could put her back immensely after all the hard work she’s put in. If she wants to wait, nobody should have a say in that other than her.”

With every word coming out of Chenle’s mouth, he gets more and more attractive to you. You wish today had been a simple morning, truly. One where you’d wake up with him next to you and he’d hold you for however long the two of you could stand to stay still for.

“You should be happy we’re trying to do this properly.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“Love is a waste of time in a business arrangement.” Your father sets his empty water glass on the table.

“I agree. It’s better to get the obligations out of the way first, and then worry about trying to create something real,” Chenle’s father agrees.

“Right, because that worked out so well for you,” Chenle says.

Today was going to be a long, long day.

Your parents and in-laws stayed for another hour, and then they (thankfully) willingly left on their own accord. As soon as Chenle closes the door behind his parents, you sigh in relief and slump your back against the counter. He approaches you without a word, and almost like it’s instinct, you wrap your arms around him. Running his fingers through your hair, he holds you as close as he can.

“I’m sorry my parents implied you’re impotent,” you mutter, and you and Chenle burst into laughter at the same time.

“Wow. Clearly the only two options for an explanation as to why you’re not pregnant within two months are impotency or your husband not finding you attractive. Which, for the record, neither of those are an issue.”

“Gross. But thanks, I think?” You lean back slightly to look at him and find him smiling at you.

“Just being honest. If I was impotent, I would’ve told you before we married for business purposes. And if you don’t know how attractive you are at this point, that would be one of the world’s biggest mysteries.” He pulls you to him until your chest presses against his. “But, since I was so rudely torn away from my beautiful wife this morning by our nosy, no fucking good parents dropping in like we’re fifteen years old, I wanted to thank you for last night. Since I couldn’t earlier.”

“Thank me?” You frown and tilt your head.

“I needed that. I didn’t even know it, but I needed it,” Chenle tells you.

“Of course,” you murmur. “You never have to be alone for those moments.”

“Just for those moments?” He fakes a pout. “Does that mean I have to go back to my own room?”

You give him a pointed look, and then pretend to be lost in thought momentarily. “Pretty sure that’s only when you make me mad. I guess married couples argue and then the wives send the husbands to the couch. But in this case, there’s an extra bedroom. Or twenty.”

“Can I…can I try something?” he asks, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

If he was anyone else, you’d be asking a million questions. But this is Chenle, and you’ve grown to realize he’s exactly who he said he is. You trust him inexplicably.

“Wow,” he says. “Not even a sarcastic comment. I think I’m winning you over.”

You open one eye, push at his shoulder, and then close it again. You’re more than tempted to open them again when his hands cup your cheeks. His thumbs caress your skin, and your breath gets caught in your throat. Your heart races in anticipation as you await his next move, craving whatever it is he wants to give you. You gasp quietly when you feel his lips brush yours, and your body tenses.

“Relax,” he whispers. “It’s me.”

You don’t give him the opportunity to finish closing the distance between you two. You do it for him. Pushing yourself forward, you seal the kiss with him quickly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. He curses against you, and you follow suit when he wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you onto the counter. For a brief moment, he pulls away from you, chest heaving as he pants.

“Chenle.” You hate that it comes out as a whimper, but you love the way he reacts to it.

He kisses you again, harder this time while one of his hands tangles in your hair and the other sits on your thigh where the hem of your dress is. Instinctively, to make your dress ride up your legs more, you lift one and hike it up around his waist. The fabric slips past his fingertips, now resting much higher than it was before. You pull him closer until he’s right up against the lace of your panties.

“Fuck,” he curses lowly, digging his nails into your skin. “You’d better think this through, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but heat floods your core. You need him.

“Please,” you whisper to him, watching as his eyes darken right in front of you. When you let your hand travel down his body, you smirk at how his length hardens further beneath your touch.

“Shit.” His hips unintentionally thrust into your hand. “Fuck, we should stop.”

You drop your head against his shoulder, retracting your hand away from him. “Well, impotency definitely won’t be a problem.”

He kisses up your neck. “Sorry. I don’t want to get carried away. Or even more carried away, I guess.”

“Look at me.” You wait for him to listen to you. “You don’t have to hold back if you don’t want to. Your desires are just as important as mine.”

“Before we…do anything, I need to make sure I have condoms.” He clears his throat and removes your leg from around his waist.

“Wait, what?” You frown and lean away from him. “What do we need those for?”

“Are you serious?” He takes a step back.

“Well, yeah. We’re married. We need to have children, why would we use condoms?” You run your fingers through your hair.

He sighs and runs his hands down his face. “We talked about this. I was under the impression that we were figuring this out first and then worrying about how and when we’d have children.”

“We can’t do both at the same time?”

“Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want kids yet?” He tilts his head at you and narrows his eyes. “Yes, I understand that’s part of the deal and why we’re even married in the first place, but I don’t want to even risk having kids if I don’t know it’s really me you want.”

Embarrassment floods through you, and you slide off the counter and send him back a few more paces. You pull your dress down and grimace at the thought of being in a position like that.

“After everything we’ve talked about and the time we’ve spent together, you really think that’s not true? You think I don’t want you?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. All of this is confusing. And then our parents are here pressuring you into having a kid, and you’re—”

“Oh, my God.” Your jaw drops, and you brush off your skirt. “You’re literally the one who kissed me. And then you put me on—God forbid I ask a simple question, right? That must mean I’m trying to jump your bones to get my way.”

“(Y/N), that’s not what I said—”

“Maybe not, but that’s sure as hell what you meant. And here I am, like a fucking idiot, letting you touch me when you think that fucking low of me.” You clench your fists at your side, and you’re unaccustomed to the way your heart twists so hard in your chest. “God, fuck you.”

You turn away from him and stomp off, painfully aware of your over-exaggeration. The logical side of you begs you to calm down, since both of your concerns are valid, but the side of you you’re experiencing for the first time is stronger than what you’re accustomed to. When you make it upstairs and to your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and force yourself to breathe. Chenle’s assumption hurt you. It’s as simple as that. You’ve let yourself like him, and now he has this power over you. With a simple miscommunication, it feels like everything is falling apart before it even begins.

You blink rapidly to stop the tears from welling in your eyes, and eventually, you’re more annoyed by your reaction than by the actual situation. The door creaks open, and Chenle walking in makes relief flood through your veins. He moves over to you and sits down next to you, reaching over to grab your hand.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod and lean into his chest, craving his comfort. He sighs, wraps his arms around you tightly, and strokes your hair. With your ear pressed against him, you hear how his heart beats just as hard as yours.

“I think we both got a little carried away there,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I got so upset.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He kisses the top of your head. “It’s never my intention to hurt you. Or to make you regret anything we do.”

You sit there in silence, appreciating the comfort he gives you simply by being next to you.

“I was…I don’t know. Embarrassed, I think.” You chuckle at yourself, but you don’t find it funny at all. “That you would think I’d just…do that without being truthful to you. I’ve had a lot of men assume things about me throughout my entire life. Because of my success, it’s either from my father handing it to me or because I slept my way to the top. So, I’m sure you can see why I had trouble comprehending that as anything else.”

“And I hope you know that’s not what I was thinking at all. I know how much of an influence your parents have had on you. All I ever want to do is make sure you’re making your choices for you. I never communicated that I would want to use condoms if we started sleeping together because I didn’t really assume we’d get there.” He squeezes you closer to him and takes a deep breath.

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you.” You scrunch your nose up and look at him. “That was…really weird.”

“Weird?” A small smile pulls at his lips.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before. And it’s scary that you have that kind of power over me, even if I know you wouldn’t use it against me intentionally.”

“Learning how to manage those feelings will come with the territory. Have some faith in me, alright? I’m not saying things just to bring you down.” He tilts your head up, his gaze scanning over your face. “I want you to be happy. Obviously, bonus points if I’m a part of that happiness.”

“You are.”

“Good. You deserve only good things in life, and I need to make sure you get them.”

He leans down and presses his lips to yours, gently working your mouths together. You sigh into him and tangle your fingers in his hair. Everything about this feels good. It has warmth spreading in your chest from knowing someone in this world cares for you beyond what you can give them. You know he wants you, but you also know he’s going to have your best interest in mind.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. “We’ll learn each other, darling. Everything will work out the way it’s meant to.”

Whether intentionally or not, you and Chenle keep your distance from each other for a couple days. Today, however, you’ve no choice but to be around each other later for the board meeting, where they’ll vote on the CFO position. And your COO position, but Chenle made it very clear that the vote was simply a formality. You choose a black dress, zip it up, put your earrings in, and head downstairs, where your husband waits for you by the door. He looks at you as you stop on the bottom step, a loud clack coming from your heel.

“Yes?” You tilt your head at him.

“Are those earrings new?” He buttons his suit jacket.

“Not new.” You shake your head. “I just haven’t worn them since we married.”

“Right.” He walks over to you and offers you his arm. “Do you like receiving new things?”

You loop yours through his and allow him to guide you toward the door. “I guess that would depend on the context of receiving.”

“If I buy things for you, will they be well received?” he asks.

“You think you know me well enough to buy me things I’d enjoy?” You bite back a smile as he leads you outside and to the car.

With his hand on the small of your back, he helps you into the backseat before following. “I think I’d figure it out fairly quickly. I’m a smart man.”

“They…would be received. Maybe not well, but received nonetheless.”

He chuckles and shakes his head, relaxing against the seat. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I can’t make it too easy for you.” You purse your lips, and without much thought, you scoot closer to him and place your hand on his.

“I don’t think easy is the right word for most things when it comes to you.” He laughs, turning his smile toward you.

“Most things?”

“Being with you is easy. Or around you, I should say. You’re pleasant company. Easy to have an intellectual conversation with, easy to relax around. Those are the easy things.”

“Wow.” You bite back your grin. “You sure know how to woo a woman.”

“Not just any woman,” he interjects. “My wife.”

“Your wife.” It’s the first time you’ve called yourself that out loud, and it has a weird, unrecognizable feeling sprouting in your stomach.

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but it seems like you’re coming around a little bit.” He nudges you gently. “I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I’ve missed you the past few days. After the other day, I wanted to give you space in case you didn’t want to see me, but I should’ve thought to ask you.”

He stares down at where your hands are connected, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You fight the urge to touch his face again. “I…I’ve missed you, too, I think.”

“You think?” Humor laces in his tone.

“I don’t know. I’ve never wanted to be around someone like this before.” You shrug, heat gathering in your cheeks. “Forgive me while I navigate whatever’s going on inside my brain.”

“I want to know everything you’re thinking,” he murmurs, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Every joke, unimportant sentence, emotion, process. I want to know you.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his without a single thought in your head, but he reciprocates with ease. Almost as if he’s not taken off-guard in the slightest.

“I could get used to that,” he says against your lips. “No more silence, okay? I don’t want to be away from you.”

“No more silence,” you agree.

When the two of you pull away from each other, your eyes widen at the sight of your lipstick on his lips. You grab his arm to stop him from getting out of the car and use your thumb to wipe the excess away.

“Made a mess, did you?” He grabs your wrist to stop you. “You don’t want anyone to see that you like me that much?”

A grin follows his words, and he grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket.

“No one can know I actually have a heart,” you interject, watching as he wipes his mouth.

“Alright.” He puts his hand on your knee and squeezes. “Are you ready?”

If there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s the overwhelming attraction you have for Chenle. You take him in for a moment, the dark sweep of his hair parted to reveal his forehead, the way he grips you, the way he watches you as if you’re the only person in the world to exist.

“Before we go,” you start, chuckling quietly at yourself for the question you’re about to ask him. “Did…did you ever get condoms?”

His lips part in shock, and he blinks and flounders for words for a solid few seconds before he clears his throat. “I…I mean, I did, but not because I thought we would—it was just a precaution, you know?”

“Do I make you, Zhong Chenle, so nervous that you’re stuttering right now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” He pats your thigh. “Absolutely, you do.”

You silently thank whoever made this car for the partition between the driver and you and Chenle. “I could do so many other things to you that are so much better.” You gently touch his tie, wrapping your fingers around the fabric and pulling on it to bring him closer to you.

“I truly have no doubt that’s true.” He wets his lips. “If we don’t get out of this car in the next ten seconds, I’m having the driver fucking turn us around. We can’t miss the vote.”

“I guess receiving the title of COO is a little more important than banging my husband.”

“Fuck, I need to get out right now.” He glances up at the ceiling and throws the door open without any more hesitation. Like usual, he turns and offers you his hand.

You take it gratefully, and you loop your arm through his once your feet are safely on the ground. While you follow his lead, you realize something that has the gears in your brain turning. Chenle is the only man you’ve ever accepted guidance from. As miniscule as it seems to allow him to walk you inside, you can’t deny how you’d willingly follow him wherever he may go.

The vote does go off without a hitch, and not even half an hour after you receive your title, you’re in an office plugging away at whatever work needs to be done. Unfortunately, you’re awfully distracted by the thought of Chenle by himself down the hall. A knock on the glass door jolts you out of your thoughts. You see Jeno standing there with a file in his hands. You beckon for him to come in, and he gestures at the seat as if to ask you if he can sit.

“Please.” You nod, folding your hands together. “Did you need something?”

The man hands you the file. “We were able to trace the owner of the bank account, and an address associated with it. I…I figured it’d be best to leave this information with you, given that this could be sensitive information.”

You open it, glancing through the charges. “It started with a different bank account and name.”

“It did. Payments were originally made to a Liu Shuye, and just over two years ago, the bank account switched to a Liu Sujia.” Jeno pauses and takes a deep breath. “I think it’d be better for you to do this portion of it on your own.”

“They have different surnames.” You tap your pen on your desk. “And you’ve never heard of this person before today?”

“Not once.”

“Very well.” You sigh and close the folder, gaze meeting Jeno’s. “Thank you. I’ll look into this further and determine at what point Chenle needs to be involved. For now, Jeno, keep this between us.”

“Of course.” Jeno nods and stands. With a quick bow of his head, he moves to the door. “He’s a good man, (Y/N). Chenle, I mean. But he feels too easily, so tread carefully with whatever you find.”

“I will.”

Once Jeno departs, you cross your arms over your chest and stare down at the information delivered. These payments were made for years, so you’re unsure of how this could relate to Chenle in specific, but you feel an overwhelming resolve to make sure whatever this is doesn’t hurt him.

Chenle came to get you from your office at almost 7pm. He refused to let you work any longer and insisted he had to take you home. Your mind has been turning since Jeno brought you the documents, but you leave them buried in your desk and lay your head on Chenle’s shoulder for the duration of the car ride home. Once you're inside the house, Chenle takes your jacket off your shoulders and hangs it. You turn to him and grab his hand.

“Come to bed with me?” you ask.

“Of course.” He gives you the softest smile, and as you walk up the stairs, he follows closely behind you.

The two of you step inside his room. Chenle closes the door and then wraps his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest. He buries his head in your neck, a hum escaping past his lips.

“Are you tired?” you ask him, reaching up to play with his hair.

“No,” he mumbles. “I just want to be close to you. It’s been a long day, and you make me feel better.”

“Is that so?” You face him and tilt your head.

“I was scared to fall for you, too,” he whispers. “For anyone, but especially you. I know the reasons we’re here are vastly different from a conventional marriage, but I already wanted you before all of this.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you realize his use of past tense. He was scared. Does that mean he already has fallen for you?

“C’mere,” you mutter. “We can be closer.”

“Are you sure?” He cups your cheeks, thumbing your skin. “I know we’ve gone back and forth a couple times, but I need you to know you don’t have to do anything for me. Ever.”

“Kiss me, Chenle.”

All events of the day are forgotten as soon as his lips are on yours. His hands explore along your back, fingers clenching onto the fabric of your dress as he inhales shakily. When he pulls away, it’s only for a second, as if he can’t stop himself from going back for more.

“Please tell me this means something to you.” He gulps, his words punctuated by kisses as he turns you around and walks you backward. “That I’m not crazy for wanting you the way I do.”

As the back of your knees make contact with the bed, you grip onto his shoulders, breathless from the passion behind his kiss. “You’re not crazy. It’s terrifying how fast you’ve become all I think about. Your smile and your laugh and the passion you carry. This means everything to me.”

His eyes sparkle in the lamp-lit room, a warmth dancing around in them you’ve never seen from anyone before. He finds the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down.

“I hope you truly know how fucking exquisite you are,” Chenle murmurs, removing the fabric from your body and returning his touch to your back to explore your bare skin. “I don’t want to fight these feelings anymore.”

“Do something about it, then.”

The heat radiating from him keeps the chill of the air in the room off of your skin, and after he guides your back down on the mattress, he haphazardly tosses his suit jacket away. You scoot back to give him more space, and he climbs on top of you. You part your legs further, nearly gasping when he takes his spot between them, pressing against you as if he were made to fill that space. As he takes your lips with his own, you work on the buttons of his shirt. Your hands shake, making it difficult, but he doesn’t mention it. He keeps kissing you like he’ll die of thirst the second he pulls away.

You finally get the last one, and he sits up briefly to rid himself of the extra material. Before it’s even completely removed, you reach down for his belt. He stares at your hands as you unbuckle it, but you don’t have time to slide it off him. When his mouth crashes into yours again, you lift your hips up.

A quiet, needy sigh passes through his lips. “God, I fucking need you so bad.”

“I’m yours,” you tell him. “Show me how much you need me.”

He grinds down against you, and his hard length slides against the wet spot in your lace panties. That time, you do gasp. It’s been much too long since you allowed yourself pleasure by another’s hand, and you crave that closeness with Chenle.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, voice rough.

“Please.” You nod. “Touch me wherever you want.”

He curses under his breath, but he presses his lips to yours once more, then along your jawline, down your neck, and paying attention to the valley between your breasts. He squeezes the right one, rubbing his thumb against your nipple through the somewhat thick material.

“You’re so fucking pretty.” He nips at your skin, and you already know he’ll leave marks on you. Pausing, he takes a deep breath. “You—you’ve done this before, right?”

“Done what?”

“Sex.”

“I have. Why?”

“No, I just…you said you’d never been in love before and I didn’t want to just assume that you—”

“Just keep going.” You blush, but he listens to your command without hesitation.

When his mouth continues downward, leaving a trail of his saliva on your stomach until he reaches the hem of your panties. He tongues along the band, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Good God,” you whisper, the urge between your legs becoming far too much for comfort. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my fill.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs.

When his thumb brushes your clit through your panties, your hips jolt. You curse, grasping onto the sheets as you prepare yourself for whatever he has planned. He smirks at your reaction, and as he pulls at your underwear, you lift up to urge him to move faster. He wraps his arms around your legs, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress. Even though he opens his mouth to speak to you, his eyes don’t leave your glistening core.

“You can stop me if you change your mind. Just tell me.” He gulps, wetting his lips like he’s struggling to hold back.

“I won’t change my mind,” you reassure him.

“But you need to know it’s always an option.” He squeezes you gently, and without awaiting your response, he slides his tongue from your entrance to your clit.

No matter how embarrassing it is, you can’t stop the whimper escaping you. His tongue flicks your clit one, two, three times as he digs his nails into your skin. Pleasure isn’t entirely foreign to you, but you’re sure it’s the way your soul has begun craving Chenle’s that makes this so much better than anything else you’ve experienced. His grip on you keeps you from squirming too much, but you try regardless. As he steadily moves over your clit, your back arches off the mattress. Whines leave your mouth as you run your fingers through Chenle’s hair in encouragement.

He takes your sensitive bud into his mouth, sucking to add pressure, only to release it and start all over again. You lift yourself on your elbows to watch him, all while practically pushing his head further between your legs. His eyes are closed, and seeing his lips work on your core has to be one of the most erotic things you’ve ever witnessed.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, the vibrations against your entrance sending shivers up and down your spine.

You feel yourself approaching the edge. Your body tenses, but your high won’t take you. Cursing quietly, you lift your hips in an attempt to figure out why the hell you can’t get out of your head. Chenle pulls away from your core, pressing kisses to your inner thigh. “Relax, darling. It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“Please just…” You drop your head back on the mattress and let out a defeated breath. “I want all of you.”

He leans over to the bedside table and grabs a condom, trailing his lips up your body once more until he reaches your neck. His teeth graze your skin. “You can trust me, (Y/N). I’ll take care of you.”

“I do,” you mutter, running your fingers through his hair. “I swear I do.”

“It’s not me you have to convince.” He nips your collarbone. “We don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.”

You shake your head. “I’m ready. I want you.”

“Okay.” He nods, pulling back to meet your gaze. His features are soft, nothing short of adoration in his eyes. “Try not to think about it too much. Just feel.”

“I’ve never been good at that.” You chuckle and grin at him.

“I’ll show you how, baby. I’ve got you.”

You crane upwards to kiss him, and he meets you in the middle. Tasting yourself on his tongue has you sighing into him, and you push at his pants in hopes that he’ll take the hint. He pauses to rid himself of the rest of his clothing, and then slides his hands beneath you to unclasp your bra. You arch your back to give him more space, and soon enough, nothing separates you from your husband anymore.

“You’re sure?” he asks you again, grabbing the wrapper once more.

“I want you,” you confirm.

Despite the confidence you usually feel, something here feels more…vulnerable than you’ve ever been. Your heart flutters in your chest as he opens the condom and slides it on, and you spread your legs further as he climbs over you again. No man has ever made you nervous before, even in similar situations, but something with him is different. You care about him. You want him to feel good, too, and you crave his promises of taking care of you.

“Need you to relax,” he whispers, peppering kisses on your jawline as he lines himself up with your soaked entrance. “Close your eyes, darling, just let yourself feel.”

You tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck, and you listen to him. Through the darkness, you see the world you drew on his ceiling, the one with beautiful landscapes, overarching mountains, fresh, clean streams, and you sigh in content. The middle of the map, the location you craved to be in, is right here. With him. His breath catches in his throat as he slides inside you, his length stretching you. He gulps and rests his head on your shoulder as he attempts to steady himself. You tangle your fingers in his hair, combing through the midnight strands. After both of you calm down from the initial overwhelming movement, you wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together, tugging him up to kiss you. His lips work softly on yours, and he slowly grinds against you. He pulls out until only the tip is inside, and as he pushes back in, he moans into your mouth. Your body shudders at the sound.

“Tell me how it feels,” he says, chest pressed to yours. “How do I make you feel?”

“Chenle, I—” You blush despite the situation.

“You don’t have to be shy with me, baby. Let me help you.” He repeats his previous movement, and you watch as his eyes flutter from the pleasure. “I can tell you how it feels for me.”

You nod. “Please.”

The pace he sets is slow but has electricity coursing through your veins anyway. He continues to pull out almost all the way, just to allow you to experience the entirety of his length rubbing against your inner walls.

He gulps, pressing his lips to your ear. “You’re divine, darling. You’re squeezing me so tight, I could stay here forever. It’s like you were fucking made for me, soaked and so fucking warm, baby, you take me so well.”

Everything he does is like a lightning strike, every fiber in your muscles breaking down as you yearn for this completion. You know you’ll never be able to stay away from him. Even if you don’t finish, this journey is just as good as the destination.

“Feels like I’m on fire,” you whisper. Thankfully, your eyes are closed, or he’d see them roll back. “You’re everywhere and it’s still not enough.”

He picks up his pace a bit, and a moan tumbles from your lips. He holds himself up on one of his elbows, his other hand gripping your thigh.

“That’s it.” He kisses you, gently biting at your bottom lip as he pulls away. “I could never have enough of you. Need you always. Forever.”

Your heart thuds against your ribcage, and despite the pleasure clouding your brain, you allow those words to sink in through your skin and bones, deeper still until they reach your soul. There, they repeat over and over again until they’re permanently tattooed upon every recognizable piece of yourself. The hand on your thigh skirts downwards, his palm pressing on your abdomen as his thumb brushes your clit. You jolt and whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. He curses, but doesn’t let up. As the knot forms in your stomach, you open your eyes to watch Chenle, his face scrunched in pleasure as your walls flutter around him as your high approaches. He doesn’t look away from you, and as you lift your hips to match his thrusts, his fist clenches the sheets next to your head.

“So fucking wet,” he groans, his thumb never faltering in pace as he rocks his hips against yours. “You’re so perfect, darling. Gonna let me feel you cum?”

Between the slide of his length inside you and the pressure on your sensitive bud, you’re dazed at best. You nod, gripping onto him.

“I’m so close,” you whimper. “God, I want it so bad.”

Chenle adjusts his hips, and the next time he thrusts in, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars. You’ve never unraveled like this before, but your body shakes as overwhelming pleasure takes over, your vision spotting as you cry out and grip onto your husband. Your toes curl as he quickens his pace, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to press himself as deep as he can to finish in the condom. His body slumps on top of yours, his chest heaving as he presses his lips across your hot skin.

“(Y/N)...” he says between pants. “Oh, my God.”

You let out a breathless giggle. “I didn’t do any of the work.”

“Promise you, just you being here is more than enough for me.” He kisses your cheek and gently removes your legs from his waist. “I’ll be right back.”

You stop yourself from whining at the loss of him inside you, but as he goes to dispose of the condom, you get yourself clothes to put on. You slide a new pair of panties on before setting your silk pajama set on the bed.

Chenle’s arm wraps around your waist, and he presses his back to your chest. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.” You chuckle. “What should I be doing?”

“Absolutely nothing.” He presses a kiss to the base of your neck. “Supposed to be naked in bed and waiting for me.”

“Ah, is that so?” You pretend to be in thought, tapping your fingers on his wrist.

“Mhm. Don’t you know bare skin-to-skin contact promotes good bonding?” He pulls you away from the foot of the bed and guides you back to where he left you. “Bet you’ll sleep better, too.”

The two of you climb into bed together, and despite the way your internal temperature is much too high, you still thrive in the extra warmth of his embrace. You rest your head on his chest, his nails gently scratching up and down your back. He falls asleep first, his steady breathing nearly lulling you as well. You adjust your head on the pillow so you can see the softness of his features, and you allow yourself to reach up and trace along his cheekbone. If anyone had asked you at the beginning if you’d ever thought a moment as intimate as this were possible, you’d quickly tell them no. There was no way you’d ever let yourself be so vulnerable with anyone. Especially not someone who has no obligations to you other than legally marrying you.

But this is more. It’s so much more than a business arrangement, and maybe a part of you has always known that. It wasn’t hating him you were scared of, but loving him.

But here you are. And you’re long past falling.

Your morning is unfortunately hectic in the wake of the events of last night. Of course, you should’ve expected moments of relaxation in your marriage to be nearly non-existent, but neither you nor Chenle wanted to get out of bed. Despite that, today you planned on going to the address listed on the bank account. You roped Jisung in, even though he didn’t know all the details. He’s your cousin, after all, and he wasn’t going to let you do anything potentially dangerous on your own. Although, you’re not sure he could do anything in a ‘dangerous’ situation anyway. He may be physically giant, but he truly acted like a teddy bear.

You and Jisung sit in the backseat while the driver takes you to the house, and you’re flipping through a binder of papers while Jisung is on his phone.

“You know.” He pauses, waiting for your attention. “I stopped by your house last night.”

You turn to him and frown. “You did? How come I didn’t see you?”

“When I arrived, the staff said it would be best not to interrupt you at the time. They didn’t really say why, but I can only imagine. Either you and Chenle were in the process of murdering each other, or you guys are really going all in on the heir making.”

Your face heats up and you scratch your head. “I—I took your advice, is all. We’re kind of trying to figure things out, I think.”

“Uh huh. So the turtleneck isn’t a strategic move?”

“Park Jisung!” You push his shoulder. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“No, of course not.” He bites back his teasing grin. “I’m just saying, it’s good that you’re opening up to him. You guys are pretty much stuck together, so you should at least try to make the best of things.”

“But yes, we are certainly…making the best of things.” You grin to yourself and focus back on your binder.

“So, I can stop hearing your dad complain about no heir news soon?” He rolls his eyes. “That man is truly insufferable.”

You shake your head. “Can’t say the possibility is zero, but we used protection, so probably not. And yes, my father is insufferable. When he came over last time, he implied Chenle was impotent in front of both of his parents.”

“I’m shocked by both—why not try for pregnancy if you’re already sleeping together? And why would you not being pregnant after two months mean Chenle’s impotent?”

“You just live for drama, don’t you?” You quirk an eyebrow at him. “My husband would prefer to only have a family if it’s a real one. Meaning we would love each other. And I don’t question my father’s logic. I’m not sure how he got as far as he has in business when he lacks so much common sense. Like I’m a breeding mule or something.”

“Huh.” Jisung pauses and slumps back against his seat. “Aren’t you lucky?”

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Andy. None of this is short of hard work.”

Your driver opens the door, and before Jisung can respond, you’re stepping onto the sidewalk. The house in front of you is in a suburb, an exact replica of everything else around it. It’s not remarkable by any means. For someone making over half a million dollars every year, they sure do still live modestly.

“Don’t say a word,” you warn Jisung. “I’ll handle this.”

“Considering I have no idea what’s going on, I will happily let that happen.”

You stop at the front door, knocking three times. Standing completely rigid, you wait for anyone to answer. Once it opens, you’re confronted by a surprised woman. Her hair is long and black, reaching the center of her back. Brown eyes widen in shock.

“You can’t be here.” She moves to shut the door, but Jisung stops it over your shoulder.

“I’m—”

“You’re Chenle’s wife. I know who you are.” Her jaw tightens. “You need to go.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not an option. I’m here on company business, because apparently someone decided sending $143,000 a quarter to your bank account was acceptable. You can let me in, or we can make a spectacle out here. It’s your choice.”

The woman, who can’t be too far from your age, blinks through her frustration and opens the door wider for you to step inside. You do, and she gestures to the couch.

“Have a seat. I’ll grab us all some water.” She exits the room, and you and Jisung sit down on the couch.

Despite you being resilient in hiding your nerves from people, Jisung is able to read you like a book. “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Jisung warns you quietly. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Right. Only her being familiar enough with my husband to only use his first name. Not a big deal at all.” You clench your fists together.

“You said he had no idea about the payments.”

“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know her.” You shake your head. “He has no idea I’m here.”

Movement catches your attention, and you see eyes peeking around the corner. Your jaw drops before you can stop yourself, and then the small child steps into the open. You grasp onto Jisung’s sleeve, and those conclusions he told you not to jump to? Yeah, you dive into them.

“Who are you?” he asks. He can’t be more than four, and he looks achingly familiar.

“Jisung,” you whisper.

Jisung leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m Jisung. Who are you?”

“My name is Yichen.” He walks over and sits on the coffee table in front of you and your cousin. “I’m almost five.”

“Wow,” Jisung feigns surprise. “You’re getting so old.”

“That’s what my mommy says, too.” He scrunches up his face.

You’re struggling to breathe at this point, and that’s when Sujia decides to come back. She curses under her breath the second she recognizes her child in the room, and she quickly sets the glasses of water down before shooing him back up the stairs. You’re suddenly, painfully aware of Chenle telling you he’s been in love before. Of knowing there are women out there he’s wanted in the same way he’s sure he wants you.

“I think I’m going to puke,” you whisper to Jisung, careful not to let Sujia hear. “You don’t think…?”

Before Jisung can confirm or deny whether your suspicions are valid, Sujia sits across from you on the couch. The first thing you do is look for a ring on her finger, and when you don’t find one, you feel an unmistakable lump form in your throat.

“Why are you here?” she asks. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to. I haven’t told anyone anything, and my son and I are peacefully living far away from everything.”

“That’s the issue. I haven’t the faintest clue who you struck some sort of deal with for this money, nor do I know why. And if you want the payments to continue, you’ll tell me everything.”

“Is there something in specific you’d like to ask?” She frowns.

“What makes you say that?”

“You suddenly look like you’re ready to rip my throat out,” Sujia retorts.

“The child. Is he Chenle’s?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Sujia visibly recoils, eyes widening as she glances between you and Jisung. “You…Are you joking? Of course not. Chenle—dear God, Chenle’s my brother.”

You swear your life flashed before your eyes, and as you drop your head into your hands, you let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your heart still races, but it starts to slow at the news that your husband doesn’t have a secret child.

“I’m sorry, your brother?” Jisung asks. “I wasn’t aware Chenle had any siblings.”

“No one is. That’s why we’re receiving the payments.” She pauses, wetting her lips. “Chenle’s father—our father—met my mother many years ago. I see him quite often, and he’s aware he has a grandchild. I figured he never told Chenle, and this confirms my suspicions. Considering his parents never divorced, I can only assume it’s because she is also unaware.”

“He recently became aware of the payments.” Because of you. “And quite honestly, I don’t think this news will sit well with him.”

“Don’t.” Sujia shakes her head frantically. “Don’t tell him. We…We need that money, okay? And he has full power to take it away from us.”

“Do you know anything about him?” you ask her.

“Just what our father told me.”

“Chenle is exponentially kind. He’d never simply cut ties and leave you to struggle. It’s not like you lied to him by choice.” You take a deep breath and brush your skirt off. “He’s the best man I know. And for that reason, I could never intentionally keep this from him. I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Sujia runs her tongue along her teeth.

“And on the off chance he doesn’t continue payments, I will personally make sure you’re okay.”

“You actually care about him.” She tilts her head at you.

“It’s hard not to care for someone like him.” You stand up. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. And for thinking your child was my husband’s. Thank you for talking to me. Can we exchange numbers? I can keep you updated on how things go.”

You make haste of retrieving her number, and then you and Jisung leave the house. Once you're back in the car, you let out a long, pent up breath. You tug your fingers through your hair and curse quietly.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asks.

“Honestly? I’m okay now that I know this isn’t Chenle’s fuck up.” You nod. “I think I need to pay his father a visit.”

“You’re going to confront…his father?”

“I’m going to confirm the story, obviously. And if it’s true, I’m going to tell him what an incredible fuck up he is.” You turn off the emotions switch, your face going stone cold. “Chenle looks up to that prick.”

When you arrive at his parents’ house, you’re greeted by staff and Chenle’s mother. Jisung opts to stay in the car, and his mother rushes to bring you further into the house.

“Ah, (Y/N), what a pleasant surprise.”

Not if she doesn’t know about the secret child.

“What brings you here?” she asks.

“Chenle requested I bring these files for his father. Is he here?” You smile at her.

“Of course. He’s in his office. It’s down the hall, all the way to the back on the right.” She pats your shoulder.

You bow your head to her in thanks, and then you make your way down the hall. Knocking once, you await his confirmation to walk in. He sits behind the giant desk, glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. You note a lot of Chenle’s features come from him, but you can’t believe how vastly different they truly are.

“(Y/N).” He leans back on his chair. “Was I expecting you?”

“No.” You approach him and drop the paper with her bank account information on it. “Liu Sujia.”

His eyes widen, barely noticeably, and he looks at you. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Did you think no one would notice payments that high to a random bank account? From the company?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. A bank account means nothing. You can’t even be sure I was the one facilitating such payments. Chenle has been CEO for years now, so it’s been under his nose, too—”

“I don’t need your excuses. Or your explanations. You’re not my father, and quite frankly, I don’t care about the state of your family.” You glare at the man in front of you. “But I also spoke with Ms. Liu. She has a child. Your grandson, and Chenle’s nephew. You think he doesn’t deserve to know?”

“If you don’t care about the state of my family, why are you doing this now?”

“Because I care about my family. And the second Chenle married me, he became part of it. And while you may not love your son, I do. I won’t let you lie to him.” The words fall right out without a second thought, and you fight the embarrassment of admitting your feelings to his father before Chenle.

“So, why come here? Why not go right to Chenle?”

“I’m sure he will have his own things to say to you later. I wanted the chance to let you know, objectively, what a selfish asshole you are. Your son idolizes you for the life you built for him. For showing him that a man can be loyal to a wife he may not love, if not for his child’s sake. But you weren’t. Everything he respects you for is a lie, and you’re despicable for being okay with that.”

“How dare you come into my home and talk to me this way?” His eyebrows furrow in anger, and he leans forward, but you don’t even flinch.

“I don’t fear you,” you hiss at him. “You are human, just like everyone else. If you deserve to be scolded like a child, I have no problem being the only one with enough balls to do it. If you lose Chenle because of this, I hope you lie in your fucking grave. I’ll pay people to dance on it.”

You turn your back on him, throwing the door open and stomping down the hallway before you give him the opportunity to say anything else. Sending a smile towards Chenle’s mother, you nod once at her before walking back outside to your car.

Gaining the courage to tell Chenle takes much longer than you’d like. You get back to your office, finding Chenle waiting for you. He smiles at you, one of his genuine, happy ones, and presses a quick kiss to your lips as you approach him.

“I never thought I’d find a time where the CEO’s not busy,” you tease him. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured we could take a break and go get some lunch.” He tugs you closer. “It’s been a long day, and all I want is to be with my wife. Is that so wrong?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head. “Wrong? No. Crazy? Maybe a smidge.”

“Wow, you just called me crazy. That hurt.” He chuckles.

“How about we just order something and eat it here?” you ask. “I have a bunch of stuff to do, but I would love for you to be with me.”

“Of course. What did you want to eat? I’ll tell the secretary to order it.”

“Whatever you’re thinking is good,” you tell him, leaning back on your desk. “I’m not too picky.”

“I’ll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, and when he closes the door behind him, you let out a sigh. It feels like you’re lying to him now, but you couldn’t drop something huge like that on him now.

Not when he was looking at you with such affection. What if you telling him this makes him hate you, too?

When he comes back, he sits across from you and rests his head on his palm. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You frown at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just acting…different, I don’t know. Is this about last night? Did I do something wrong?” His forehead creases with worry, and your heart sinks in your chest.

“No, no, last night was good. I really liked last night.” You try to fight off the embarrassment at your words, but it doesn’t work very well. The tips of your ears burn.

“Okay.” He reaches across the desk and grabs your hand. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. As long as I’m not the one making you feel that way, I can wait until you want to talk about it.”

“Chenle,” you whisper, squeezing him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.” You glance down. “For not being what I expected.”

“I want to take care of you. Not because I think you can’t, but because I want to. I can be a safe space for you, and I’d never do anything to harm that image.”

You stand up and walk over to him, grabbing both of his hands. “I think I might be able to let you do that.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this.” He pulls you closer until you’re straddling his lap. “You amaze me every day.”

“We’re at work,” you scold him.

“I don’t see you trying to move,” he teases, palms exploring your back. “I was kinda sad we had to rush this morning. I would’ve loved to just lay there with you for as long as possible.”

You relax on top of him, fighting a smile as you study him closely. “I need to stop wearing lipstick.”

“Why?” he asks. “Do you wanna kiss me again?”

“I want to kiss you a lot.” You nod.

“I can wipe lipstick off.”

“What if mine gets smudged?”

“Tell people to mind their business. We’re newlyweds.” He watches your expression as his hands dip down to grip your ass through your dress. “I think the newlywed era started yesterday. Because all I want to do is be with you. All over you. Inside you.”

“Jesus Christ, Chenle.” You smack his chest. “Composure.”

He grins. “C’mon. You were thinking it, too.”

“We certainly can’t do it here,” you tell him.

“It’s my building.”

You give him a pointed look. “I’m trying to get your employees to respect me. They won’t if they think I’m here simply because I let you screw me on the desk.”

“I gave you the position before I ever even slept with you.”

“They don’t know that.” You roll your eyes and clamber off his lap. “There actually is something I wanted to talk to you about later at home. Are you leaving at a decent time?”

“I figured we’d leave together whenever you were done. If that’s okay.” Chenle clasps his hands together in his lap.

“Perfect.”

Before you do anything else with him, you need to tell him about his father. You just hope you don’t lose your husband in the process.

You bring the binder home with you. On the car ride home, you loop your arm through Chenle’s and rest your head on his shoulder. He can sense your nervous energy and tries to soothe you with a kiss to your head. You and Chenle go upstairs, and you sit on the edge of the bed. He follows suit despite your nerves transferring into him the longer you stay silent.

“I wanted to talk to you about that charge we found.” You put your hand on his knee. “And it’s a lot, okay? So I just want you to listen to me.”

He frowns but nods in response.

“Jeno and Jisung helped me with it. Jeno found out the account belonged to a woman, and there was an address associated with it. Jisung went with me to the house, and when we got there, I met with the woman.” You pause and scratch the top of your head. “She has a little boy. He’s almost five. And to be honest, it was a possibility in my head that you might’ve…I don’t know, accidentally fathered a child, but thankfully, it wasn’t that.”

“(Y/N), who is she?”

“She’s your sister. Your half-sister, I guess.” You gulp, refusing to make eye contact with him. “And the little boy is your nephew.”

“Oh.” His voice shakes uncharacteristically, and he inhales.

“Your dad has been paying her and her mother off for years so you and your mother didn’t find out.” You close your eyes. “And she begged me not to tell you because she’s scared she’ll stop receiving her money. Which I get, honestly, but I couldn’t keep this from you. Not when I know how—”

“(Y/N), please. I need a second.” He drops his head in his palms. His jaw tightens, and he angles his gaze to the ceiling.

“Come here,” you murmur, opening your arms for him. Immediately, he melts into your grasp, resting on your chest as you stroke the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He grasps the fabric of your dress in his fist as he uses you to ground himself. “The whole time I admired him for being better, he just fucking sucked?”

You can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness that makes his voice shake.

“You’re sure?”

You nod. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he tells you. “You didn’t do this.”

“No, I didn’t, but I love you, Chenle. I hate seeing you like this.” You and Chenle both tense up. He lifts his head to look at you, and your heart nearly shatters at the welled up tears in his eyes. You keep looking at him, more than nervous for his response.

“What?” His voice is hoarse, almost like it’s caught in his throat. “What did you say?”

“It’s not important right now, okay? I wasn’t thinking.” Your own tears form, and you try your best to blink them away. “No thinking, just feeling didn’t really work in this situation, huh?”

“You love me?” He cups your cheek and turns you to him. “Do you mean that?”

“Are you kidding me?” You scoff. “Of course, I do.”

You shouldn’t have done that now, given how overwhelmed he is, but it truly slipped out. He stares at you in shock, and when he parts his lips, a tear slips down his cheek. You shake your head, reaching forward and wiping it away with your thumb.

“Don’t cry,” you say. “This is all so much, I shouldn’t have dropped that on you like this, I’m so sorry—”

“Stop apologizing. Please.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“Darling, at this point, you’re the only one who hasn’t.” He rests his forehead on yours. “And you…you loving me makes all of this worth it. Nobody has that power over me when I have you by my side.”

“I do. I love you.” You sniffle and hold him tighter.

“I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you walk into the room. I love you when you’re a thousand steps ahead of me, and I love you when you’re walking my pace. All the time, without fail and without reprieve.”

Every bit of oxygen is stolen right from your lungs, and all you want to do is scream and cry and punch his father in the face. Such a pathetic man doesn’t deserve a son like Chenle.

“Zhong Chenle, you’ve broken me in all the best ways. That terrible wall, the shell around my heart…I don’t want to face the world alone anymore. I need you with me.” You rub your thumbs along his cheeks, swiping up the next couple tears that fall.

“I will be better than my father. Than yours. We’ll do this the right way, okay?” He inhales sharply.

“I don’t doubt that one bit.” You lean forward and kiss his forehead. “What are you thinking? What do you want to do about all of this?”

“I’d like to meet her. My sister. And my nephew.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “She won’t have to worry about money. We’ll have to stop paying her through the company, but it’ll come out of our personal account. If that’s alright with you.”

“Somehow, I had a feeling you’d say that. Of course, that’s okay with me.”

“Can you set that up please?” he asks softly. “I honestly don’t know how, and she already knows you so…”

“You don’t have to explain. I’ll do it.” You run your fingers through his hair. “You’re the bravest person I know. Not everyone would handle it the way you are.”

“We’ll figure this out, yeah?”

“Between the two of us, there’s not a problem in this world we couldn’t solve.” You kiss the tip of his nose and stand from the bed, holding your hand out to him.

“What?”

“I was thinking we could take a bath. Help each other relax.”

He gives you a tired smile and nods. “That sounds amazing.”

You start the water and put a more-than-appropriate amount of the bubble bath liquid in it. Tying your hair up to prevent it from getting wet, you smile to yourself when you feel Chenle’s hands on your waist.

“Need some help getting this off?” He tugs on your dress.

“I might need help with everything,” you hum, letting your eyes flutter shut as he unzips your dress.

Once it's thrown across the room, you unbutton Chenle’s shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. Soon enough, both of you are beneath water and bubbles, and his arms are locked firmly around your waist. You rest against his chest, allowing the lavender scent to soothe your stress.

“Y’know what we’re missing?” you mumble. “Champagne.”

“I can have someone bring it to us. Just say the word.” He kisses your temple.

You shake your head. “We’re naked.”

“They’re professionals.” He laughs and squeezes you. “And I can have them leave it in the bedroom.”

“Right, and make sure there’s a heart made out of flower petals on the bed.” You roll your eyes.

“You can have anything you desire, (Y/N). You’re my wife. The sky’s truly the limit.” He explores your skin out of curiosity, mapping his way around your body.

You sit up and look over your shoulder at him. “You know what I want?”

He raises his eyebrows in response.

“I want it all.” You grab his hand. “I want you. The good days and the bad ones. Whatever trial comes our way, I want us to figure it out together.”

“Do you…Do you actually want children? Or is that something you feel like you have to do?” he asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. There was a brief moment when I met Sujia and Yichen that I thought…I thought that he could’ve been yours. I mean, he looks like you a little bit, but he’s your nephew so that’s not weird. When that became a possibility in my head, it hurt. Stung, is more like it. I guess I figured that any children you’d have would be mine as well, and to think there were others you might have—”

“Darling,” he coos, tightening his grip on you. “I promise you, I do not have any secret children. Nor will I ever. You will be very, very aware of any child I have. I don’t want them if it’s not with you.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“That’s good.” You nod and lean back against him once more. “We have time to think about it, right?”

“Take as much time as you need.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You hesitated to have Chenle meet Sujia so quickly. A week passes before you consider reaching out to her, and you know Chenle is waiting for it. She has to be too, at this point, probably worried about whether or not her money supply was going to be cut off. He has yet to confront his father, but you assume that will come with time. For now, you’re curled up next to him in bed, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Finally, it’s a rest day for you both, and you get to spend the whole day with him uninterrupted.

His fingers run through your hair, a deep breath passing by his lips. “Darling.”

“Hm?” You move closer to him, burying your head in his neck.

“Kiss me?”

You don’t hesitate to do as he asks, humming against his lips as the two of you connect. He shifts to his side to get closer to you, his hand trailing from your hip, down your leg, until he finds the back of your knee. Pulling your leg over his waist, he shuffles closer to you, pressing his body to yours.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, smiling.

“Loving you,” he replies easily, sliding his hand back up to your ass. The thin fabric of your shorts does little to hide the sensation of him squeezing you. You don’t mean to gasp, but you attempt to distract him by tangling your fingers in his hair.

“Tell me what you want.” You pull back to get a good look at him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he admits. “How fucking good you made me feel.”

“More.”

“You’ve been telling me you love me for a week now and I haven’t been able to hear it when I’m inside you. God, I never thought I’d be like this. It’s only been a week.” He squeezes you harder, pushing his hard length against you.

As he grinds himself slowly into your core, you curse and wrap your arms around him. “Why did you wait this long?” you ask him breathlessly.

“Didn’t wanna push you.” He kisses along your neck, nipping wherever he can reach. “Don’t want you to think this is all I want. Fucking been hard all day, darling. Every time you walked into the fucking room all week, instantly ready to bend you over.”

Your body shudders as you process his words. “Why don’t you lay back? Let me take care of you.”

“I need you so bad,” he groans. “I could cum just hearing you talk like that.”

You push him onto his back and quickly straddle him. Rolling your hips, you curse under your breath as you feel his hard length against your clit.

“Chenle,” you mutter, trailing your hands beneath his shirt. “Do you prefer ass or tits?”

“That’s an odd question.”

“You won’t regret answering.”

“Ass.”

“Perfect. Do you have a condom?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“They’re in the bedside table—darling, I didn’t prep you yet—”

“You’re not the only one who’s needy,” you interrupt him, quickly moving to grab one of the wrappers. Before you climb on top of him again, you kiss his cheek. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, my love. You don’t have to ask.”

You shove your shorts and panties down, and as you pull at his sweats and boxers, his fists clench at his sides. His length smacks against his stomach, and he wraps his fingers around himself to relieve some of the ache. You didn’t get to see it much the first time, but you take a second to appreciate just how fucking pretty he is. He’s so hard, it’s probably starting to hurt.

He runs his thumb over the tip and gasps. “Baby, please.”

You waste no more time in getting the condom on him, and then you straddle his lap again, but backwards this time. As you quickly sink down on his length, taking him all the way inside, he moans loudly.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He drags his nails down your back until he reaches your ass, and then he grips you tightly with both hands. “You needed me, too, huh? Dripping all over me when I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You brace yourself on the mattress between his legs, and set a fast, steady pace. He moans every time you sink all the way down, and your fingers curl into the sheets. You easily ignore the ache beginning in your thighs when you listen to him and how good you’re making him feel. He spurs you on, his moans slowly turning to higher pitched whines.

“Can we—fuck, can we try something?” Chenle asks, gripping your hips to hold you still.

“Whatever you need.” You shakily lift yourself off of him, and he quickly moves from below you. He removes his shirt before aiding you in doing the same.

He guides you to arch your back, your face pressed into the mattress as your walls clench around nothing. His tip catches on your clit, and your body jolts, but you grip onto the sheets instead.

“Gonna fuck you good, darling. Wanna hear you the whole time, got it?” His voice sends needles of pleasure pricking into your spine, and you know you can ignore everything else once he’s buried inside you.

“Yes.” You nod. Your fingers curl into the sheets as he slides in. The angle has you seeing stars, and your mouth falls open at the sensation.

His hands squeeze your ass as he starts slowly, the rub of him against your walls making your legs tremble already. You worry briefly about being too distracted, but as reaches around you to put his hand between your legs, all thoughts besides the way he feels completely obliterate. He rubs your clit in pace with his thrusts, his breathing uneven as he works your body as if he’s touched you for years. You barely recognize yourself when your moans slip past your lips. You’ve never let go like this before, and through your daze, you push yourself back against him. He tentatively smacks your ass, light enough to make you crave the contact. You can’t breathe as you curse.

“Again,” you whine, your entire being on the brink of collapse. “More.”

“Earn it, baby,” he commands. “You know what I want to hear.”

You let out a shuddering breath as his tip nudges that spot inside you. “Fuck, I love you. I need more.”

He smacks you harder this time, and the loud, needy moan that pours from your lips gets distorted by the way he starts to slam his hips against you. His fingers speed up on your clit, and you’re already teetering on the edge. Sounds of your arousal emanate around the room, mixing with both of your moans. His skin clapping against yours has every muscle in your body craving the release you know is so, so close.

As your high smashes into you like a tidal wave, the pleasure is so overwhelming, you cry out and clench onto the sheets. Chenle curses as his thrusts begin to falter, but you barely hear him. You’re much too sensitive, and you whimper as his fingers still work your bud. Without warning, he pulls out of you. You whine at the loss, attempting to push back, but he grips your hips and flips you onto your back. Gasping at the sudden movement, you grab for him as he climbs over you.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“I need to see you, darling.” He inhales sharply as he pushes back inside you. “And kiss you.”

His lips connect with yours as he keeps his steady pace. His chest rubs yours, the heat almost unbearable as your tongues fight for dominance. A groan slipping out of his mouth interrupts your kiss, and next thing you know, he’s as deep as he can get, panting against your collarbone.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Me too,” you reply, breathless as you run your fingers through his hair. “I love you, too.”

“That wasn’t too much, was it?” He peppers kisses anywhere he can reach—your neck, your chest, your shoulders.

You shake your head. “No, I’m just a little surprised. You can tell me when you want me, you know. You don’t have to wait for me to initiate.”

“It’s been…an interesting week, you know?” He pulls out of you, kissing you softly one last time before he goes into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he comes back, he lays down on top of you again. “I came twice.”

You recoil, angling your head to look at him. “Just now?”

“Yep. Came when you were on top of me, too,” he hums in content. “And I’ll have you know that’s never happened to me before.”

“Had someone on top of you or finished twice?”

“The second one.” He pauses. “But I—”

“You don’t have to explain.” You snort. “I have a past, too.”

“That’s good. Don’t wanna move,” he mumbles, pushing his head further into your neck.

You laugh. “Don’t, then.”

Chenle falls asleep fairly quickly, and you kiss his forehead before wiggling out from under him. You grab a new pair of panties and slide them on before grabbing one of his button-downs. It’s much too late for any of the staff to be out and about, so you grab your phone and head to the kitchen. When you look at the screen, the worry settles back in the pit of your stomach. Sujia had texted you forty-five minutes ago, asking you for an update on the situation. After a week, you think Chenle has probably had at least a little bit of time to come to terms with everything. You text her back to let her know Chenle wants to meet her, and then you get your water. You don’t want Chenle to ever feel hurt like that again, but it’s not going to just disappear. You know better than that. But it doesn’t change how seeing him so upset broke you to pieces, too. If you could, you’d ruin anything that even tried.

He was right all along.

Being in love doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It makes you stronger. Gives you a purpose other than what is required of you when you’re from certain bloodlines. From the beginning, you were sure Chenle would never—could never—mean anything to you, and even though he told you otherwise, you had to find out for yourself. You’d start wars for him. You’d do anything to make sure he was okay, because at the end of the day, he truly is the only person to love you without conditions involved. He cares for you not because he has to, not because he’s forced to, but because he wants to. Because he chooses to. You refill the glass for Chenle and head back upstairs. When you open the door, he stirs, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he turns and sits up.

“Where’d you go?” he asks, running his fingers through his hair.

“Water.” You hold the glass up and set it next to him on the bedside table. Standing at the edge of the bed, you look at him, unable to fight the small smile forming.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“You’re just…” You chuckle and shake your head. “Shut up. You’re just really cute like this.”

He holds his arm out to you. “Pinch me. I’m pretty sure I’m still dreaming.”

“Oh, you’re hilarious.” You smack at his wrist.

He tugs gently on the bottom hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “I like this on you.”

“It was the first thing I found.” Embarrassment climbs through you. “Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

“What part of that sounded like I wanted you to ask?” He snorts. “You’re always welcome to anything here. You should know that by now. But you’ve been away from me for way too long. C’mere.”

He opens his arms for you, and you chuckle and climb into bed next to him. When he lays on his side, he tugs you to follow suit. You listen to him, staring into his eyes while his thumb rubs on your hip through the white fabric.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For trying with me. Not running away. Letting me love you. The list is honestly endless.” He kisses your forehead. “Not to mention I really would’ve fucking lost my mind with all of that stuff last week if you hadn’t been there.”

“Speaking of.” You shuffle closer to him. “She wants to meet you. And I really think you should do it, because at the end of the day, she’s your sister, you know?”

Chenle hesitates, thousands of emotions crossing through his gaze like a storm. “You’re right. You can set it up for whenever, and I’ll be there.”

“I’m sorry this happened, Chenle.” You intertwine your fingers with his. “And I want you to know that, no matter how you’re feeling, you can tell me. I want to help you process.”

“I’ll be okay, darling. Truly. It’ll just take some time getting used to it. I do think it’ll be nice to have a sibling, although she’ll probably hate me for…I don’t know. Being legitimate?”

You laugh, burying your head in his neck. “You’re not taking her money away, so I doubt she’ll hate you.”

He hums quietly, sleep still heavy in his voice as he pulls you flush against him. “I shouldn’t be able to love you this much yet. Slow down, would you?”

“You, of all people, should know that those words do not exist in my vocabulary.” You close your eyes and breathe him in. “I love you, too.”

Sujia sets the day for the upcoming Saturday, and so while the days pass, you witness Chenle slowly lose his mind. He’s not upset at Sujia at all, but he obviously is with his father. It’s an incredibly large secret to keep from your family, so he has every right to those feelings. The entire car ride to her house, he’s squeezing your hand so hard, you fear he’ll cut the circulation off. His leg bounces restlessly, and the frown hasn’t left his face once today. The driver opens the door, and you get out first to at least attempt to lessen your husband’s nerves. You’re unfortunately aware of the straggle of photographers waiting for the two of you. While you’re not sure how they found out about this, you’re not worried about them in the slightest.

Once Chenle’s on his feet, you loop your arm in his. “Be calm. There are cameras, so at least wait until we get inside to freak out.” “Yes, ma’am.” He sends you a sly grin. The two of you approach the door, and you knock. Sujia opens the door quickly, ushering the two of you inside to prevent herself from being seen. Chenle removes his sunglasses, and you take them from him to put in your purse.

“(Y/N), it’s nice to see you again,” Sujia greets you. You nod at her. “Likewise.” “Chenle, you’re a little more intimidating in person.” She clasps her hands together. “Are you guys thirsty? I’ll get some water.” “Actually,” you say, patting Chenle’s arm. “Why don’t you two get your sibling introductions out of the way, and I’ll just play with Yichen. He’s my nephew, too, after all. And I’m pretty sure I scared him last time.” The two of them both flounder for words, neither of them wanting to be without you in a moment like this.

“It’ll be okay. Seriously. Neither of you bite, and Sujia, he’s actually really sweet. He just looks like he hates everything.” “As you can see, my wife is my biggest fan.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he fakes a glare. “Anyway.” You smile at Sujia. “I assume the child is upstairs?” “Yes, but if you want him to not be scared of you, you may want to refer to him by his name or something other than ‘the child.’” She scratches the top of her head.

“God, there is so much I could learn from you.” You separate from Chenle’s side and head for the stairs. Much to your pleasant surprise, your nephew…in-law? is already stomping down the stairs. “Oh.” The kid purses his lips. “You’re back.” “I am.” You nod and scrunch your nose up. “I figured while your mommy talks to my husband, we could…I don’t know. Play a game or something? Do kids do that?” “You’re weird.” Yichen grimaces. “But you’re nicer this time than you were last time. So yeah, we can play with the Switch.” You don’t end up actually playing, but you do watch Yichen’s game with interest. Leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, you analyze the process he uses when he plays every round.

“You’re smart,” you comment. “My mommy tells me that, too.” He nods, seemingly unaffected by your compliment. You pause for a moment. “Does your mom…compliment you a lot?” “Uh, I don’t know.” Yichen doesn’t start the next round, but turns to look at you. “Does your mommy compliment you a lot?” You laugh. “Yeah, no. Definitely not." “Are you—”

“Yichen,” Sujia calls out. “Can you turn the game off please? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Without a second thought, he turns the Switch off and yells to his mom to tell her he’s ready. He sits next to you on the couch, folding his hands together in his lap. You’ve met a lot of children in your day, but you never imagined one could be so well-behaved. You see the panicked look on Chenle’s face as he walks in. A laugh almost erupts from you, but you hold it back. The man is meeting his nephew for the first time and can’t seem to shake the nerves away. You can only imagine what it’ll be like when he meets his own child. You tense the second that thought crosses your mind.

When?

A legitimate chill runs down your spine, and then you realize how close Chenle has gotten. He squats down in front of Yichen, and Sujia leans against the archway into the kitchen.

“Hey,” Chenle starts. “I’m your uncle. And you’re my nephew.” “Oh, wow.” You really didn’t think it could get any worse than you. “Do you know her?” Yichen nods his head towards you. Chenle smiles. “Yeah. That’s my wife. So that makes her your aunt.” “She said her mommy doesn’t compliment her.” His eyes widen. “Is she a bad person?” Your husband lets out an exaggerated gasp. “No way. She’s the best person I know.” “How?” “Well, she told me about you and your mommy when nobody else did. She’s really, really smart and, c’mon, she’s gorgeous. What else could I want in a wife?” Chenle grins, sending a quick glance your way. “I guess you’re right.” Yichen shrugs. “Do you wanna play a game with me?” “Absolutely.” He nods in response. You stand to give Chenle room, touching his shoulder lightly as you go to stand by Sujia. Leaning on the wall next to her, you quickly realize attempting to take your eyes off of your husband is futile. “He likes kids, huh?” Sujia asks. “He really likes family,” you reply.

“Do you want children?” “Oh.” You chuckle to yourself and fold your arms over your chest. “I’m not sure. But we…don’t really have a choice. We signed a contract and heirs are part of the deal.” “I’m sorry, but I really don’t envy you,” she tells you. “At the end of the day, it’s not that bad, though.” “So, you and Chenle actually love each other.” She hums, tapping her foot. “I feel like that’s rare for people in your positions.” “It is,” you agree. “And honestly, had it been up to me at the beginning, we wouldn’t even be…friendly. We’d be tolerating each other.” "Wow, he fought for you.” Humor laces in Sujia’s voice. “Well, I told him that I’d rather tolerate him than learn one day that I might hate him instead. He was entirely right when he said it wasn’t the hate I was scared of. It was love. Of relying on someone else.” “At least you can rest assured that he would be a good father.”

You don’t respond for a moment, watching Chenle interact with his nephew. They must win something in the game, because they dramatically high five each other. The smile on Chenle’s face is wide, and your heart flutters as a result.

“Yeah.” You fight your own grin. “Yeah, he really will.”

You and Chenle are at Sujia’s for hours. It’s clear the two of them are similar, and thankfully, your husband seems to enjoy having a family member other than the ones who have disappointed him. Yichen warms up to you both, and by the time you’re leaving, he’s hugging you both goodbye and asking when you’ll be back. Chenle is still smiling as he leads you back to the car.

“That went a lot better than you thought, huh?” You ask as he helps you into the backseat.

“I don’t know what I thought.” He shakes his head. “But it’s cool not to be an only child. Even if it’s unconventional, you know? And that little kid is freakin’ cool.”

You lean on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re making the best out of this situation.”

“Actually, do you mind if we make one more stop?”

“Of course not. Where to?”

“I think it’s time I had a conversation with my father.” He pats your leg. “And I could really use your support.”

“Chenle.” You tilt your head at him. “If you don’t know by now that I would follow you anywhere, you’re not as smart as I originally thought. We may have to reconsider this whole thing.”

He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth, holding back his laugh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that contract is pretty air tight.”

“Damn.” You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

“The luckiest.” He lifts your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Can’t even joke about that one.”

Chenle isn’t even nervous as the two of you approach his father’s office. He grips your hand tightly, but his resolve has never been stronger. Despite him doing this on his own, you feel an odd swell of pride deep in your chest. You’re so proud of the man he’s always been, and how he only ever wants to be better. His father already knows what’s going on the second he sees you both. At that point, Chenle releases your hand and drops his folder on the desk.

“What’s this?” his father inquires.

“A lawsuit,” Chenle replies nonchalantly.

You almost gasp in shock. And while you shouldn’t be enjoying the awkward tinge in the atmosphere, you feel like you need a bag of popcorn right now.

“I’m sorry?” He recoils in shock.

“You seem to forget that when I became CEO, you no longer had any claim to the company’s profits. And if I did my math correctly, which I did, $143,000 a quarter is roughly $572,000 a year, which is a grand total of $2,288,000 from the four years I’ve been seated in the CEO position.”

“Chenle, you have no right—”

“You don’t tell me what I have the right to do, actually.” Chenle buttons up his suit jacket. “So, you’ll be paying me back the money you owe me. That you stole from me to protect your little secret from getting out. But that must really suck, because you actually delivered a handwritten apology letter to Sujia and to your wife and your mistress and me and the employees at the company that’ll be announced in about ten minutes. To the whole world.”

“Your mother cannot know about this. Whatever you’ve done, you reverse it immediately.” The angry expression on his face does nothing but make Chenle grin.

“Your secret’s out, Dad. Crazy how you had two children and never learned how to be an actual father.” Chenle brushes himself out and points at the folder on the desk. “I’d read that. You might wanna think twice before fighting it.”

“You’ll understand one day,” his father replies. “There’s more to life than marriage, and it’s only a matter of time before you—”

“I will never be like you.” The smile immediately falls from his face. “I love my wife, and I’m not a fucking coward. I don’t need a second family because the first one wasn’t good enough for me. This is the last time you’ll hear from me. And you won’t be receiving any money from my company again. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, your lips parted in shock as you realize what’s happening. Your husband turns his back on his father, gently holds out his hand to you, and shoots one last ice cold glare over his shoulder as he leads you out of the room.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you laugh in disbelief. “Chenle, holy shit.”

“Dude, my adrenaline is fucking crazy right now.” He chuckles and blows out a deep breath. “That was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my life.”

“This might be terrible to say, but I am…so attracted to you right now.” You blush as you squeeze his arm.

“So, nothing but good things today.” He helps you into the car.

Once he shuts the door behind him, you climb onto his lap and kiss him. He groans in surprise, his hands immediately finding their place on your ass.

“What? You like when I put people in their places?” he teases you, leaning forward to barely brush his lips on yours.

“There were a lot of things I liked from today.” You unbutton the first button on his shirt. “It was…very hot of you to absolutely destroy a man like that. You held your ground and…I don’t know. The tone of your voice was sexy.”

“My God, am I learning things about you today.”

“If it helps you, I’m also learning things about myself, so.”

“Mm, please tell me what else you’ve got hidden up your sleeve.” He squeezes your ass gently, pushing you closer so you feel him hardening in his pants.

“I think…we should throw every single condom away. Permanently. We’ll have an endless amount of babies for you to play games with. Of course, you’ll also have to tell them I’m gorgeous, but—”

“You’re serious.” His jaw drops, hope sparking behind his eyes. “Darling, you better not be joking about something like that.”

You shake your head. “I’m not joking. You were on to something when you said you wanted everything. A real life, a real love, a real family. Why don’t we have it all?”

“Right now? You want kids now?”

“If we’re gonna have twenty, we really have to start now, otherwise I’m gonna be too old—”

He cuts you off with an earth-shattering kiss as he pulls you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair, and you giggle into his mouth. The only thing that separates the two of you is the door opening.You gasp and climb off his lap, clearing your throat and fanning your cheeks from the embarrassment of getting caught. Your husband grips your hand and pulls you towards the house, and you can’t stop the profuse laughter escaping you as he apparently decides you’re walking too slowly and hoists you over his shoulder.

“Oh my God, Chenle, put me down.” You can barely speak through your laughs.

He only listens to you once the two of you are inside and he’s able to set you on the kitchen island.

“If you’re doubting it even a little bit, darling, you’d better tell me now.” He kisses down your neck. “Because I don’t care how fucking long it takes, we’re not stopping tonight until I get you pregnant.”

“You’re crazy.” You push his shoulder. “You have no way of knowing if you’ll—”

“Baby, don’t ruin my fun. Tell me if you really want this.”

“I do, Chenle.” You cup his cheeks, smiling at him. “I want it with you. They all need to look like you. I want at least one boy and one girl, and they’ll be best friends because—”

He kisses you again, groaning as he slides his hand beneath the skirt of your dress. “Keep talking.”

“Um, I just really think you’d be a good dad,” you say, lifting your hips so he can pull your panties down. “And, uh, you’ve proven how much family means to you, so it makes me feel safe. I—shit.”

He presses two fingers to your clit, and your body jolts. Chuckling, he traces along your pulse with his lips. “How are you so wet already?”

“Well.” You let out another breathless laugh as you grind your hips to match his pace. “It so helps that my husband is the hottest fucking man in this universe.”

“You think so highly of me,” he hums, teeth grazing your ear lobe.

“You’re cruel for this, you know.” You rock upward, and your head lolls forward. “Teasing after you clearly feel how badly I want you is just…so rude.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me.” He moves down to your entrance and thrusts two of his fingers inside you.

You cry out, holding onto his shoulders. With a frustrated groan, you push his jacket off of him. He curls his fingers and pumps faster, thumb returning to your clit.

“Fuck, Chenle, wait.” You smack at his wrist. Even though you don’t want him to stop, you want more. He stops immediately, pulling back to look at you.

“What? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay.” You kiss him hard. “I need you inside me right fucking now.”

“First of all, you just scared me.” He tsks as he unbuttons his pants. “You need my cock so bad you can’t fucking take what I give you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. You shudder at his tone, shuffling closer to the edge of the counter. He pushes his pants and boxers down to the middle of his thighs, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He’s hard, tip leaking precum as he spreads your legs further. The fabric of your skirt prevents him from having enough room, and the dark look in his eyes sends another burst of wetness to your core.

“Love how these skirts look on you but fucking hate how I can’t fuck you in it.” He taps your hip, and you lift yourself up so he can unzip it and tug it down quickly.

You barely even pay attention to what his doing when he pulls your ankles up to the edge of the counter and spreads your thighs apart until they begin to ache.

“Now, isn’t that a fucking view.” He wets his lips as he wraps his fingers around his cock. Thrusting into his fist a couple times, he uses his other hand to tease your clit.

“Chenle, please.” You gasp, tugging him closer.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, I can see it.” He drags his tip along your entrance, pushing in just enough to watch the head of his cock stretch you open. He’s entranced by the way you take him so easily, his eyes focused on where the two of you connect.

Your pleasure intensifies simply by watching him so drunk on you, just appreciating the way you take him. You feel every vein in your body buzzing, and you can’t help it but to push your hand between your legs and rub your throbbing bud while he’s entranced.

“You have no fucking patience,” he hisses, grabbing your wrist and pushing it away. You whine at the loss, but his glare stops you. “I’m trying to enjoy my wife’s pussy, but she’s just so fucking needy, isn’t she?”

“Oh, God.” You grip onto the edge of the counter.

“Watch how easily you take me.” He flicks your clit. “Look.”

You let your gaze travel downward until you see his cock positioned outside your hole. Instantly, the room gets much hotter. You struggle to breathe, anticipating the stretch he gives you. His tip is covered in your arousal, but the rest of his cock has yet to feel you.

“Fuck me, Chenle,” you mutter almost incoherently. “I wanna watch.”

He finally obliges, nudging the tip between your folds again before sinking inside. He moves so slowly, you want to cry. You need more, and the stretch wreaks havoc on you when you’re watching. Every time he’d fill you up another inch, he’d pull out until his tip is barely caught inside you, and then sink in just one more inch. You’re losing your fucking mind, but you can’t take your eyes away from where he pleasures you. Finally, he bottoms out, the position of your thighs allowing him to press all the way against you, his pelvis hitting your overly sensitive clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “I need to fuck you.”

“You know I’m ready,” you reply, dazed from the pleasure of him seated so deeply in you.

He starts a steady pace, both of you still staring at the way you stretch to accommodate him.

“You feel so fucking good like this, darling.” He thrusts harder. “Nothing between us this time.”

You cry out when his tip hits your cervix. Your legs start to shake from how far they’re spread, but all you’re focusing on is the way your arousal shines on his cock when he’s pulling out of you. You feel every inch of him, and the way he rubs against your walls is so different without the condom. You’re fucking delirious, and every time he presses all the way inside you, the pressure on your clit has you getting closer and closer.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, baby,” he groans, moving his hand down between the two of you quickly. His thumb glides over your most sensitive area, and you can no longer hold back your sounds.

“Fuck,” you cry out, legs shaking as your orgasm lingers so, so close.

“Cum for me.” He slams into you. “Not gonna fill you up ‘til you cum, darling.”

You tip and tilt over the edge, convulsing as your high hits you hard. Chenle keeps rubbing you, thrusts picking up speed as he fucks you through your euphoria. He crashes his lips to yours as he spurts inside you, covering your inner walls with white as he pants. Your whole body shakes as you hold onto him tightly. Both of you are covered in sweat, but it does little to bother either of you.

“How does it keep getting better?” you ask. “You have that effect on me.” He shrugs, chuckling as he guides your legs around his waist. “And I wasn’t kidding. We’re not done yet.” “My insides are gonna be mush.” “What if I’m gentle next time?” He kisses along your neck. “If I fuck you with your legs up, apparently it’s more likely to happen that way.” “Insatiable.” You pull back to kiss his lips. “You’re lucky I am, too. Take me upstairs.”

You don’t make it all the way upstairs. Not at first. He decides he has to take you on the couch, up against the wall next to the staircase, the desk in his office, and then your bed. By the end of the night, you’re absolutely exhausted, but you’ve never felt so fucking good in your life. And for someone who thought you could never have it all, you realize just how damn close you are to having a perfect life when you have Chenle by your side.

701 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 2 months

Text

i suddenly have the urge to write another mark lee fic with ariana's new song...

#mark lee #nct #nct dream #nct 127

9 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 2 months

Text

sorry for the long hiatus of my "break in" fic, tumblr is pissing me off rn... my part 4 didn't get saved, i wrote it last night and i was like so ready to publish it this morning but then it disappeared from my drafts...

7 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 2 months

Text

King of the Streets

Pairing: street racer!Jaehyun x journalist!reader

Genre: street racing au, action, drama, romance, slow burn, smut

Word Count: 28k (I just can't write short stories, I'm sorry)

Summary: The moment you find yourself hiding in the backseat of a sports car that's illegally racing through the city, you just know this story will finally catapult you to the top of your journalism career. But there are a few things you haven't reckoned: How personal this story will eventually turn - and the driver's sheer insatiable craving for lollipops. And for you.

A/N: I started this after Jaehyun admitted he would have liked to become an F1 racer if the idol-path wouldn't have worked out for him. I spiraled and this is the outcome - I hope you have fun reading it as much as I had writing it!

“It’s been three years since I’ve started working here, and-”

“Unfortunately, this doesn’t matter, miss.”

For an entire week, you had prepared yourself for this meeting with your editor-in-chief. You had written down all your achievements from when you were an intern to your current position.

And he had the nerve to tell you it all didn’t matter?

It had been three very long years with too many nights spent in the office to meet a deadline you were not responsible for, trips all across the country on your own account for stories that hadn’t even made it into the magazine, and work meetings where no one had bothered listening to your ideas and input.

After all the hard work and sleepless hours you had poured into your dedicated passion, it was unfathomable to you how he didn’t even bother bringing up the slightest interest in what you had to say, and it showed all over face in the form of widened eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Others have started prior to you and they’re in the exact same position,” your chief editor said, swaying in his chair. The city’s skyline spread behind him like a painting as the sun was setting, and more than once had you already imagined yourself in that spot. “What makes you think you’re better than any of them?”

An imaginary note popped up in your head. You got this, you were prepared for this. “I’m one of the firsts to go and one of the last to leave, I wrote the most clicked article on our website - to this day. I offer input to everyone who hasn’t got something going on, my personal and professional network that I’ve built throughout the past years is wide and strong. I’m the first one to take on suggested topics, the number of articles I publish per month is the highest out of all editors, I’m always up-to-date, I live for this job.”

The middle-aged man leaned forward and propped his elbows against the glass table, inspecting you thoroughly while you were bracing yourself to elaborate every bullet point. But he only said,

“No, I don’t think so.”

You were flabbergasted. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t think you actually live for this job,” he explained calmly. “For that, it takes more than research and cranking out as many articles as possible just because your writing is good. It is, trust me, but the stories lack emotion and graspable actions. Right now, you’re only sitting in front of the computer, writing from your imagination. You don’t live the stories, you’re not in them.”

“I take trips across the country to attend events, I participate in every press conference possible, I-”

Again, he interrupted you, “Hara got in contact with a designer and walked for his show as an amateur model. Dal went to the rooftop of the highest building in this city and took pictures that even made it into television.”

“But that is illegal,” you commented. “Hara smuggled herself in when one of the models fell sick and Dal nearly got caught by the police.”

“And we would’ve bailed for all of them.” He sighed deeply as if annoyed by repeating himself. “See, this is what I’m trying to say, miss. The writing that you’re delivering is clean and conformable to law. When I read your articles, I’m well informed, but nothing sticks in my head. We’re a magazine, not a newspaper. Nobody wants to read about the opening of a new restaurant when they can read about things they will never be able to experience themselves. You have to dive in the story, be in the story to make people believe they’re in them too when they read it.”

You were quite taken aback as you noticed he remained polite when all he wanted to say was, “So, my stories are too boring, not sensational.”

The editor-in-chief let out another long sigh and fell back into his chair. “You have a trademark, but you have to get out of your secure shell to actually go somewhere, otherwise you’re going to get stuck.”

You were a goody two-shoes was what he tried to tell you. You were on the top when it was about writing, grammar and quantity, but your stories didn’t attract anyone’s interest, and if that wasn’t the case, then you could write as many perfect articles as you wanted - you would never get a higher position.

You inhaled deeply. “So, what do you suggest I’d do?”

His answer was clear, “Look for a story that will change lives. Write a story that will leave people breathless, and you’re getting the position of a senior editor. Because miss, you’re one of the most capable journalists here, but you don’t only need to be capable, you need to be a storyteller. If you can do this, propose the topic to me next week. If it’s what I expected, it will make headlines in the next issue and secure your new position.”

If only it were so easy.

____

You were sitting in the fast food restaurant with your notebook opened in front of you. Every single page was blank even though you had been there for several hours already, the ballpen in your hand having barely moved ever since.

“Do you want to order something else?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

You could only imagine the eyeroll the waitress let out when she turned away from you after not getting another order for two hours. But you were already short of cash this month and wouldn’t get paid for another week.

Another reason why you needed the senior position: as a regular editor, you could barely get by. Why were journalists underpaid anyway when they were the source of daily news and this connected the world? You had never understood.

Many ideas had flown into your head, from working a day in a job that was notorious to interviewing an infamous inmate, but none of these were exciting or extraordinary enough like it was expected of you. The topics that you came up with didn’t immediately peak interest when you researched about what your fellow editors had ever written about. And what you found left you nearly speechless and doubting yourself.

Yes, you had always been tame, reserved, a goody two-shoes. That was why your mind was also not expanding to the way it was expected of reporters. Perhaps, you were not made for this job as you could also not quite learn how to do it right.

Should you perhaps change to newspapers after all? But the open positions were always so rare and you had wanted to start at your current magazine because it was the most famous in the country…

“Where are you going after this?”

“I’m going to watch the race, Falcon against Antelope!”

“They’re set for tonight? I didn’t know!”

“Pscht, not so loud!”

Since you already lost focus and let other people’s voices into your mind, you could also pack your things and go home. You were already so done for the day.

“Can I come with you? It’s been so long since the last time I went.”

“Sure. They’ll start at midnight, so we have to hurry.”

You zipped up your handbag and threw a few bills on the table, already with one arm up the sleeve of your jacket when you perked up your ears.

“Falcon will make a comeback, so tonight there will be a lot of cash flowing!”

“Wow!”

You cleared up your throat and walked up to the two young women on the nearby table whose conversation you had been partially involuntarily listening to for the last minute. Despite your attention only shifting to them much later, you got the gist of the entire story.

It was about illegal street racing, you had read an article about it a few months ago in which the alias Falcon had also been mentioned along with another animal that you had forgotten.

The Falcon was only stuck in your mind, because there had been an accident caused by him, and ever since then, the police were paying even more attention to these kinds of illegal activities. The fact that there would be a race tonight must be a well hidden secret.

“Excuse me, I overheard you’re also going to watch the race?” you feigned knowledge and quickly made up a story that would get them to talk. “Can you tell me where exactly they’ll start? I was going to meet my friend here who’s got all the info, but she’s not arrived yet and I’m afraid I’m gonna be late.”

They looked at you in wonder, then in amazement. One of them, apparently the better informed one, then nodded eagerly before describing the exact spot to you. “I guess it’s going to be quite full since it’s the first one with Falcon since the… incident. So everyone wants to see him. They’ll start at the industrial park at midnight.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Maybe we’ll see each other there.” You waited a bit until they had left the restaurant and then pondered whether to join or not.

There had already been many articles written about the Falcon and street racing in common, but since the most controversial racer would make a comeback, this race would be a special one, perhaps even kept secret to a point where no other media outlet knew about it. There was a slim chance that you were going to be the only reporter, so regardless of your current struggles, you had to take this opportunity.

Yes, an article about the Falcon’s comeback was good, but that was by far not enough for the story of your lifetime. It was better than nothing though, a beginning. And who knew what could come out of it.

As a journalist, you had learned that you were better off going and had something expected to write about rather than not going and missing on unexpected happenings.

So you headed to the industrial park.

____

When you arrived at the destination, you spotted a crowd that had formed in a wide, clear space between two buildings. There were about fifty spectators that had gathered, divided into different groups of various sizes, lights coming from the street lamps all around the place.

Through the gaps between the cliques that all seemed too engaged with each other to notice how lost you were, you discovered a group of men that marked themselves off everyone else.

It wasn’t particularly the way they were dressed as they all wore black leather, but rather the presence they radiated. But you couldn’t deny the fact that all of them were equally overly handsome, just in a way you wouldn’t be drawn to. You weren’t intimidated, you were scared to the bones, and you immediately wanted to turn on your heels and run right back home.

You weren’t much informed about the topic of illegal street racing aside from the few articles you had read. You only knew that it was one of the most dangerous underground activities that had cost a few lives already, of drivers and passerbyers almost equally. It was macabre that articles like these gained the most attention, clicks and sales.

Although you weren’t quite passionate about this kind of topic let alone approved of it, it was the best that you could come up with for now. You wanted to prove to your editor-in-chief that you were willing to take risks, willing to leave your comfort zone for the job - even if this wasn’t going to be the final story.

But now that you were right in the middle of this happening, you were getting cold feet. This wasn’t right. If you were caught as a spectator, would the police detain you too? And would your boss truly bail you out?

“Place your bet!”

You flinched when a young man popped up right next to you with a tablet in his hand, looking at you with expectant eyes.

“Pardon?”

“Place your bet!” he repeated. “Falcon against Antelope.”

“Oh, I only came to watch,” you waved aside. “But thank you!”

“You’re here for the first time, am I right?” The guy’s eyes narrowed. “Place. Your. Bet. This is how we’re financing this all. No money, no races.”

This wasn’t a question anymore, this was a demand, and you figured that if you were going to remain undercover, you had to play along and pretend to be like everyone else, even though you didn’t know the rules to this game. The guy was scanning you from head to toe, and it took you everything to restrain yourself from shaking when you took the tablet into your hands.

You had changed your mind entirely by now. You just wanted to be out of here as fast as possible, no matter what the editor-in-chief might say about this lost opportunity. It just wasn’t worth all this stress and fear. After all, you were quite attached to your life and a clear criminal report. It wasn’t that bad to be a goody two-shoes.

Still, you had to place a bet before you could vanish so that the guy would stop bothering you, so you scanned the display laying in your palms.

There were two columns, one belonged to the Falcon, the other to the Antelope. Each column was divided into different cells with the name and the amount of money one betted. No one had placed a single bet on the Falcon.

What was there to lose when the money would be gone from you one way or another since you were going to leave right after this anyway? You wouldn’t win a single penny.

So you placed a fake name and 70.000 Won for the Falcon, which was ironically the lowest bid for the Antelope. You noticed that most of the other people had betted much more, making you wonder about the total amount the winner could collect. But 70.000 Won was already very much for you, so you stuck with that.

“The Falcon, huh?” The guy grinned. “Risky, but I like the way you think. We only accept cash. Today it’s 20 million won so far for the winner, and ten percent of it gets split between the right betters depending on their bets. Maybe you’re lucky tonight and win ten percent of the entire amount yourself.”

You were holding yourself back letting out an audible gasp as it truly sounded tempting, and instead reached into your bag and pulled out your purse. 70.000 Won was a small price for your life, and you couldn’t wait to finally leave and never turn back. How high were the chances the Falcon was going to win anyway when nobody believed he would?

The guy grinned when he collected your money. “Interesting. It’s going to be an interesting race today. Good luck!”

He then went on to bother someone else all while you checked your surroundings for a hidden, but secure exit. Since you had used a fake name and only one person had seen your real face up close, it would be easy getting away unnoticed.

And you did.

Sliding along the buildings with your back pressed into the outer walls, nobody paid attention to you since the race was about to begin and a turmoil broke out shortly after your bet. You had been weighing yourself in safety, currently hiding in a blind, dark spot in the entrance of a different building with the street to freedom in sight when you suddenly heard male voices speaking up.

“Ready, Jaehyun?”

“More than you are.”

You froze on the spot when you saw several tall figures coming in your direction, their bodies illuminated by the street lamps, and you recognized the intimidating men dressed all in black leather who had been right in the middle of the crowd shortly before.

You couldn’t go back or forth, because either side was illuminated and would set the spotlight right on you, and flight forward would mean running directly into their arms. You could only push the door to the building behind you open and…

You found yourself standing in some kind of huge factory hall where only two cars were parked, the rest was entirely empty. Who in their right mind would rent a whole factory building for only two cars? Yes, they were expensive sports cars from what you could tell, the kind of ones that would catch everyone’s attention on the streets because of how luxurious and tuned they were… but an entire hall?

You were still processing and connecting all of this new information when the same door through which you had entered got pushed open again, and in walked all men that you had run from shortly before.

Your heart suddenly lept, and you feared that this was what a heart attack might feel like, yet you were very much still alive as you were able to desperately look for a spot to hide again while they hadn’t discovered your presence yet, but lingered by the entrance with the focus on two of them talking.

Out of reflex, as one of them turned into your direction, you fell to your knees and hid behind one of the cars - the matte black one -, suppressing a gasp the moment this exact car unlocked with a sound and flash from afar.

“I’m not afraid of you. I pity you.”

You needed a new spot to remain hidden with footsteps approaching this vehicle. Right now.

“And why would that be, Jaehyun?”

You had to think of something safe, but there was barely time anymore.

“Because you’re going to lose the race today.”

No way in hell.

There was no way in hell these were the racing cars! But of course, now everything made sense as to why those cars were being kept here, you just had been in too much of a panic to have connected the dots.

How you found yourself inside that matte, black car at this moment of realization, you couldn’t tell. Just like you couldn’t tell how you could have hoped to get out of this situation unnoticed all while hiding in a crouching position in the backseat with the only way to escape being visibly passing by these men.

If only you had stayed behind the car or under the car if you were to be discovered anyway, you could have somehow talked yourself out of this situation. But how were you going to explain you had actually sneaked into a racing vehicle? Out of all the dumb things you had ever done, this made it to the top of your list.

You flinched and threw yourself down into the small legroom between the driver’s seat and backseat, when you heard the door in front of you open and a figure seated himself behind the steering wheel.

No way this was your situation now!

Everything was better than ending up inside one of these cars, hearing it start and rolling out of the hall.

This… this situation couldn’t be real.

If you just stayed crouched in the legroom, not giving away a single tone or making a single move, maybe you still had a chance to survive this ride unnoticed. How you would handle this situation when you returned and had to reveal yourself if you didn’t want to be locked inside that car until you died of thirst… that was something you didn’t want to think about yet.

After a few feet, the car came to a stop in the clearing among the spectators, and you made yourself even smaller in case someone might want to get a look inside. By the way the crowd cheered and rejoiced, you hoped that the racer was the Antelope for god knows which reason. They were both racers with the intention to win by all means.

The noise got louder, went from muffled to clear, and you realized the driver had pulled down the window.

“Everything ready?” A male voice.

“I’m ready,” was the driver’s dry answer, a deep voice with a calming, soft undertone.

The engine was raving up, and you were tucked between the passenger’s seat and the backseat in a hole that was too tight, but because of that it was also the safest spot for the ride as there was no room to move anyway. Turning your head against the window at the opposite of you, you only saw light that flooded in and nothing else.

Dear god, you found yourself praying for the first time in your life, please let me live.

“Jaehyun, do you hear me?”

You flinched when you heard another voice.

“Clear and loud.”

“Only ten seconds left.”

“Okay.”

Was he communicating through a two-way radio with someone? You hadn’t expected this race to be so well-planned and coordinated. Was it always like this? This was an interesting and not widely known point. You only hoped your memory would keep all this information saved as you for sure wouldn’t be able to take out your notebook and write everything down now.

This was the journalist inside you taking the upper hand again. If you were already in this situation, you were going to write the hell out of it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity you would never get again, the exact situation your editor-in-chief had talked about.

This was going to be your headline story. You only hoped what he had promised was true and your company would really bail you out if it came down to this. Or pay for hospital bills. There was no way you would be able to leave unscathed, physically and emotionally.

“Three!” the crowd yelled that you could also hear in the car as though you were standing among them.

“Two!” Your fingers gripped onto leather and something metallic, you couldn’t really tell.

“One!” You closed your eyes.

“GO!”

How equally unlucky and lucky you were to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or right place at the right time, it depended.

____

You were absolutely not safe in your hiding spot as expected. You got tossed and flung into every direction possible, and if it weren’t for the narrow space in which you had tucked yourself in, you believed that you would have been hurled into the seat right next to the driver already.

But you were gripping hard onto the cushions like your life depended on it just to prevent this from happening as the car sped through the streets and took every curve with such a sharp edge, you were amazed the vehicle didn’t drive on one side only by then. In your location, you weren’t quite able to catch the car’s speed, but only guessed by the street lights flashing by in less than a single second, which was, in your non-existent experience, quite much.

While the driver was talking to the person at the other end of the radio who was giving him directions and tips, navigating him away from police controls and crowded locations, you started to feel a bit braver with no more sharp curve having come in miles anymore. Most likely, you were on the highway now.

So you slowly arose and got on your knees. Curiosity eventually had gotten the better of you, and you wondered what the world outside looked like. In the end, no matter how you would come out of this, you had to make sure it must have been all worth it.

You had to come to the conclusion that if you moved a bit higher to look out of the window, he might spot your head from his position if he looked in the rear window. With a muted curse, you crouched back down, but instantly got hit by another idea. Dragging the phone out of your handbag was quite an act when you barely couldn’t move, but once you had managed to do so, you inwardly hyped yourself up.

You turned on the camera and pressed the record button, then imperceptibly motioned the phone over your head and let the upper part peek out of your lair with the camera facing out of the window. If he would look, then he would barely see anything, probably mistake the black edge of your phone for a shadow or a part of the car’s interior.

When suddenly a ringing tone broke through the silence inside the car though, you nearly let your device fall with a gasp. You thought you had the ringtone silenced for the entire day already, how was it possible?!

“Hello,” the driver suddenly greeted, and only then it took a load off your mind. It wasn’t your phone that had rung.

“Jaehyun, when will you come home?” The female voice sounded playful, childish. A kid? Perhaps a teenager even?

“Why are you still awake?” The driver named Jaehyun chided with feigned sternness, of whom you still didn’t know what he looked like and whether he was the Falcon or the Antelope. “It’s past midnight and you have school tomorrow.”

“I was waiting for you to come home.”

“But I won’t be home for another hour. It’s going to be late tonight.” The driver sighed, and he sounded very regretful. “I’m sorry.”

“Jaehyun, are you currently racing?”

Silence followed, and suddenly, you felt like you were going to overhear something no one else was supposed to eavesdrop. Like an intruder - which you technically and obviously were since this was obviously a conversation between two family members.

The driver repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell mom. I’ll tell her you’re studying in the library again.”

A yawn followed on the other side, and suddenly, you heard the driver snicker. Somehow, it didn’t fit his attitude that you had gotten a glimpse at earlier. Even his responses to the person at the other side of the radio had always been short and curt. But to this young person, he was entirely different.

“I will wait for you. Mom said I shouldn’t, but I cannot sleep if I don’t know you’re home.”

“I’ll come home safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, sis. I will always come home safe.”

Your arm that was holding the phone quietly slipped back into your lap, and you stayed silent for a very long time after they had hung up. This was so wrong. You had signed up for an adventure, not to listen to an intimate conversation between siblings that somehow also warmed your heart.

If you had learned anything from it, then it was that the driver was indeed a kind person deep within. It didn’t matter what he did, for what he did it and who he was in the end, Antelope or Falcon. They were people with stories, and if you were the journalist you claimed to be, you needed to look at both sides of the coin and bring out everyone’s own perception.

Wasn’t this what your editor-in-chief wanted? A headline that didn’t go “Illegal street racer makes a comeback! We are the first ones to interview him” but rather “He risked it all for his little sister, and now he’s back - read here about the tragic backstory of one of Seoul’s most dangerous men!” or something along these lines.

After you had gathered yourself again, you looked at your phone while the roads started to turn bumpier now. You assumed you had reached the outskirts and were hopefully on the way back to where it had all started. Gosh, you prayed for that, even though you hadn’t come up with a plan to explain your situation at all yet.

The video on your phone showed you exactly what you had expected to see: nothing but a blur of whites and black. Great. It was useless. But what had you even expected?

“We have a problem.”

You perked up your ears as you heard the other familiar voice through the radio.

“What is it?” the driver grumbled. “Not long and we’ll…” He paused, and even with the missing eye contact, you sensed how the mood had suddenly shifted. “I haven’t seen him in a while…”

“Exactly. There is an undercover police car underway, the informants have just told us, and it’ll stop right where you have to pass through. The Antelope apparently knew about this and already took another route.”

Antelope?! You knew you didn’t want to judge, but out of all possibilities which was 50/50, of course you would have ended up in the Falcon’s aka Jaehyun’s car, the very same person you had mindlessly betted on. What were the odds?

The Falcon snorted. “Now, will you tell me he didn’t set this up himself?”

“No accusations now. Let’s think about what’s best to do. We’re currently in Gangdong-Gu, you somehow have to leave the highway.”

“There is no possibility,” he growled back. “It’s a suburb, there is no way I can pass through it on time and unnoticed for me to win the race.”

“I’ll navigate you the best I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. The streets are so short and narrow, it will take too long and is too complicated.”

“You can’t get caught by the police, Jaehyun. And they’re almost right in front of you. It’s better to-”

“Don’t!” he cut the person on the other end off. “I won’t give up. Not this time again. I need this win and money, you know that. It’s my comeback and reputation that I have to restore.”

“But what your family needs is you, more than money or your reputation.”

Silence. Your front teeth sank deep into your bottom lip as you were quarreling with yourself in silence. You knew what was right and what was wrong, what was legal and what was illegal, and what you were currently doing with the driver was far from being within the law as a matter of fact.

But his little sister wanted him to come home so that she could go to sleep…

“HEY!” you screamed and suddenly appeared from behind his driver’s seat.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The car swerved to the left, hurling you out of your lair and right into the edge of the backseat with a dull pain that shot from your stomach right into every limb. You gasped for air.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Despite you still not being able to face him, you got a glimpse of his face when you looked at it through the rear window. Clear anger and also shock was written all over it. You couldn’t blame him. “ANSWER TO ME NOW!”

“Don’t… have time,” you breathed and rubbed your back, getting on your knees and slowly rising from your position. “Gangdong-Gu… that’s where I grew up. I know this place inside out. I’ll navigate you.”

“Jaehyun, who is that with you in your car? That’s a rule violation!”

“I don’t fucking know who this is!” he yelled again, but not as loud as before, and before he could react to your actions, you had already crawled over the expensive interior and settled yourself in the passenger’s seat. “Who are you?!”

With a click, you fastened the seatbelt and looked out of the window. You knew exactly where you were now. “Take the second exit from here. We will pass by within the next two minutes. You will have to drive through a part of the neighborhood to change highways, but you’ll be fine at this hour. Once you have changed motorways, you’ll even reach the destination quicker. Is that a rule violation too? Taking a shortcut through the suburbs?”

You tilted your head and met his flabbergasted expression as he was staring at you with equal intensity where also curiosity was mirrored. “Uhm… usually we avoid that to not accidentally hurt any passerbyers. But…”

“It’s not a violation of the rules,” the person on the radio jumped in quickly. “It’s just unethical and something we would not like to risk.”

“Okay, thanks radio-guy.”

“Welcome, uhm… intruder-lady?”

“I did not intrude!”

“Well, how the fuck would you call this?” the Falcon interrupted.

“I don’t have time to explain now.” Your arm shot up and you pointed at a sign. “Take this exit! Right now!”

From the corner of your eyes, you clearly saw him struggling whether to trust you or not. Fair enough. You were a stranger that had hidden in his car and were now only popping up when it was about winning or losing. If anything, you could have been smuggled in by the Antelope’s team as well. No wonder he was doubting whether he could trust you.

“Screw it.”

You got thrown to the left when he suddenly swerved and left the highway according to your instruction. With your right hand, you grabbed the handle under the window for stability, once again questioning all your life choices. But you had thought long and clear about this. Having decided on helping him would result in the best outcome for your situation.

“Three rules,” he suddenly said when he drove into the neighborhood.

You shook off all your fears, speaking confidently, “I’m listening.”

“First. No word to anyone about what’s happening and what you’re doing right now. Nobody can know you’re in here.”

Why did he sound so intimidating? “Got it.”

“Second, you will lead me through this neighborhood without any incidents. Slow, steady and clear, you’ll be the navigator, the guy at the other side helps you from afar. One wrong turn, one accident or even the danger of one, and one late instruction, and I’ll kick you out of the car right there and then.”

No pressure, no pressure at all, you thought ironically to yourself. “Got it.”

“And third,” a voice on the radio chirped, “Don’t forget to have fun!”

“Shut up, Taeyong.”

“Third,” the Falcon repeated, “when we’re back at the venue, you’ll stay hidden inside here until someone comes and gets you.”

What would happen after, you didn’t dare to ask. Surely, they wouldn’t get rid of you… right? Either way, your fate had been sealed the moment you decided to come watch the race, so you gulped silently and gave a final nod.

The car came to a halt in front of a very familiar street. Everything was dark, empty and quiet. You took a deep breather and the Falcon’s head snapped in your direction. When you faced each other the next moment, you took a spare second to study his face.

If he weren’t in a racing car, you could imagine him very well sitting in a café, sipping coffee and typing something into his laptop, maybe even wearing glasses and ordinary street clothes, possibly even joggers.

He was just a normal dude under all these leather clothes that made him appear very tough, emphasized by this constant scowl on his face that was - admittedly - very handsome. After years in your field of expertise, you could read people very well and only seldomly were you wrong.

“Ready?” he asked, not breaking eye contact.

Neither did you. “Ready.”

The adrenaline flushed through your veins the moment he hit the gas pedal.

____

“Didn’t you sleep much last night?” your co-worker asked when you yawned for the nth time that morning.

What were you supposed to answer?

“I only got home at 4am last night, because I was street racing?”

So instead, you said, “I just couldn’t fall asleep, don’t worry.”

Nobody would believe you. And yet, these were the stories that everyone sought after. But only one ride was not resourceful enough and didn't contain enough substance for a decent plot. You needed the people behind it, the backgrounds and the experiences.

But after you had gotten out of the car, these people have made it very clear to you that you shouldn’t appear in a race ever again, not even as a spectator, and that your lips needed to be sealed for eternity. The fact that they had let you go without any consequences was only out of mercy because you had contributed to the victory - with a violation of rules though.

You had learned pretty quickly though that most of the time, they ignored these rules as long as nobody got hurt as physical incidents that included innocents were the highest breach of violation - just like the Antelope who had apparently cheated like the Falcon had assumed. But since nobody got proof, there hadn’t been more consequences than a few verbal attacks. As long as nobody had seen you inside the car and could prove it somehow, you were fine.

The only person that had thanked and had been nice to you was the Falcon’s navigator, Taeyong. He had even looked very sorry for what you had been through when he had opened the door to the car and you stepped out of the hideout between the backseat and passenger’s seat with shaking legs.

The Falcon hadn’t even looked at you twice when you walked out of the building - with all the money. Yes, surprisingly, they had still given you ten percent of the prize money. It was all rightfully yours since you had been the only one betting on the Falcon. Your bet had been officially registered and you had won, so it was fair and according to the rules that you would get what you earned, Taeyong had explained.

Deep down, you sensed that he only didn’t want to admit they wouldn’t have won without you, and this was them paying off their debt. After all, you hadn’t given out your real name, so they could have just said the betting person vanished. But you didn’t push the topic and saw it as hush money that you luckily needed anyway, and accepted it. Racers had a very high sense of ethics, you had learned by now. A thank you from the Falcon wouldn’t have hurt though. But instead, he had said you should never appear in front of his eyes ever again. What a rude man.

“Okay,” your co-worker said, “shall we go through the index for the next issue and compare the page numbers? Two pairs of eyes work better than just one.”

“Sure! Let me get the notes about what the editor-in-chief said. There were some important points he mentioned that had changed…”

You reached into your handbag to look for your notebook when at that moment, the telephone on your desk rang and showed the lobby’s shortcut number.

“There is someone waiting here for you, miss.”

“Alright, I’ll come downstairs.”

You wondered whether you had actually missed a meeting or an interview that you had set up for a story, but nothing actually came into your mind when you took the elevator and rode downstairs to the lobby.

At the front desk, you asked the lady where your visitor was waiting since you hadn’t spotted a familiar face as you passed by the waiting area. When she pointed at a figure sitting on the couch, slumped on the cushion, you needed to blink twice to match the face with your memories.

“You?!” you then called out when you stood in front of the young man.

He wore a snapback, glasses, joggers and a loose long sleeve. Between his lips, he carried a white stick, and you already wanted to call him out that smoking was not allowed in here when you realized that the stick was too thin to be a cigarette. It turned out to actually be a lollipop. When your gaze fell to his feet, you were able to count every single naked toe as he wore slippers. You were right. He normally didn’t look like this nighttime-self at all. During the daytime, he was just a normal guy who appeared to have just gotten out of bed.

When the Falcon arose from his seat, he didn’t even greet you. Instead, he took the lollipop out of his mouth, round and red, and just thrusted a notebook into your hands. Your notebook - the one you had wanted to fetch from your handbag earlier and which you needed for the meeting with your editor-in-chief later. You had been so sure that it was in your handbag this entire time!

“This was still in the backseat of my car. Take better care of your belongings. And don’t put your business cards everywhere. It’s not everyone’s business where you work or what your contact information is.” He then shrugged, made the lollipop disappear between his lips again and turned aside to walk past you, but you held him back by his arm.

“Wait!”

Slowly, he shifted his head back to you and asked lazily, but clearly despite the sweet in his mouth, “What is it now?”

He shook your grip off, but you just bluntly asked the question that had been on your mind this entire morning, “Let me ride with you one more time, please?”

He drew his brows together as if you had just asked the dumbest thing a woman your age could ask a man. And apparently, judging by his answer, you had done exactly that.

“Are you nuts?”

“You see, I’m a journa-”

“You people really think you’re superior,” he scowled, and you were taken aback. “Making money off of people’s personal stories, aren’t you guys embarrassed? I shouldn’t have returned your notebook at all. You’re all just selfish bastards.”

With a lowly look at you, the Falcon put more distance between you two, and although you were frozen on the spot and dumbfounded at first, you didn’t want to let him leave like this. Clearly, he had a prejudice about you journalists that you had to resolve.

“I’m not one of those journalists that make money off other people!” you told him when you had caught up with him, but by then you were already outside on the streets. “I tell real, verified stories, and only what people allow me to write! Only the truth!” He didn’t reply, but just continued walking, and you decided to follow him. “I’ve never lied or done anything without consent to write my stories. And that is what my editor-in-chief is always criticizing since this apparently holds me back from getting a promotion. In his eyes, I’m a goody two-shoes who doesn’t take any risks. But the truth is… I can’t do that, I’m fine that way! I want to tell the stories with people, I don’t want to tell stories against people! And I think you guys’ story is one very worth telling!”

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks and you nearly ran into him from behind. One a few inches separated you from each other when he turned around to you and dropped his head to lock gazes with you. “I don’t think what happened yesterday with you breaking into my car was something a goody two-shoes would actually do, but a ruthless journalist.”

You let out a desperate cry. “I told you over and over again, I just wanted to watch the race, then changed my mind and wanted to go home when you guys appeared, and then I panicked! That wasn’t planned, and regarding how close I was to dying, I would choose to not do that again. Which is why I’m asking you formally for permission.”

The Falcon remained silent and inwardly, you raised your hopes up. If you could tell a great story in cooperation with him under an alias and his other friends, that would definitely secure your promotion.

“No.”

Then, he continued his way.

“But why?” You quickly caught up to him again. “I wouldn’t tell you guys’ real names and only write what you want to have written.”

“I don’t have a story to tell except that we like racing.”

“But there must already be a story to that, right?” you tried again, keeping up with his steps this time. “Why did you start? How did you start? How did you learn all this, how do you feel when you’re in the car, how does this whole teamwork function, do your other friends and family know and what do they think about it… I have so many questions!”

“No word about my family,” he interrupted you, the candy now in his hand to speak more insistently, and it didn’t sound like a warning at this point, it sounded more like a threat. “Whatever you heard in the car, you better forget about it.”

A soft spot - you had already discovered that. It was none of your business if he didn’t want to let you in as a stranger, but you also couldn’t stop wondering. “I already got that memo yesterday. But-”

Again, he cut you off. “Great. And if I still catch you publishing an article on what happened yesterday or what you eavesdropped… well, I know where you work and live thanks to your negligence. Goodbye.”

He put the lollipop back into his mouth and disappeared in the crowd. You were tired of chasing after him again, and truth to be told, you could understand his point. Taking a deep breath in, you settled with the fact that you had to change your topic, the promotion gone from your sight again.

Of course you could have written the article without any additional info or the reveal that you were in the car yourself, but then it would only be that, an article. But you wanted a story.

_____

You were scrolling through the internet, looking for new jobs.

You figured that if you were to stick with your old position, you could as well try your luck somewhere else. Perhaps, there were open positions on the same level as your missed promotion for which you could prove that you were qualified or that didn’t require you to do illegal and unethical things.

There were only two days left until you had to hand in your proposal for the story that would cover the next issue, and you still hadn’t come up with something else.

By now, you could also pack your things and leave the city since living in the countryside didn’t sound so bad after all. Sitting by the window all day, watching nature? A dream. But you had chosen to return and to stay in the capital on purpose, a quiet, secluded life didn’t suit your current ideals. You were a writer after all, always seeking for new stories to tell, and you believed Seoul told endless ones.

The ringing doorbell had you spin around on your chair. Your room was small, but it offered enough space for all necessities that only one person needed, which was why you rarely had visitors. And as far as you remembered, you hadn’t invited anyone over.

“Who is there?” you asked carefully as you approached the door.

“It’s me.”

You furrowed. “Who?”

“Me.” Pause. “Jaehyun.”

The Falcon. Lollipop-dude. What could he possibly want after your last argument?

You opened the door, and there he stood in front of you, hair slicked back and donned all in black leather - a stark contrast to a few days ago, safe from the lollipop spinning in his mouth.

He peeked through the halfway opened door. “It’s tiny in here.”

You snapped, “Well, nobody asked you to come.”

“Can I come in anyway? We need to talk.”

“I didn’t write anything!”

He rolled his eyes as you opened the door. “I know, that’s not why I came here.”

You closed the entrance door behind you and watched him standing in your room, a bit too big for your furniture, and also a bit lost in this environment. You struggled biting down a snicker, because this picture was just so surreal.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

You folded your arms in front of your chest and shrugged. “Nothing. So tell me, what do you want from me that even made you come to my home?”

The Falcon turned around to your desk and stretched out his arm, taking something into his hand that must be your notebook he had returned to you. Holding it up, he showed it to you with his back still facing you and asked, “You still want to write this story of yours?”

Perplexed, you could only nod, but as you realized he couldn’t witness your confirmation, you quickly agreed vocally, “Yes! Yes, of course!”

“Three rules,” he then started before slowly shifting back into your sight, the lollipop still in his mouth, and you noted that everything for him came with terms and conditions. How exhausting, three rules again. “You won’t use anyone’s real names. You will only write what I allow you to write. You won’t mention my family or my background. I am allowed to read the entire thing before you publish it.”

“Those are four rules tho,” you remarked, and his eyes narrowed.

The lollipop stopped spinning in his mouth. “I’m outta here.”

“I agree, I agree!” you corrected yourself. “I agree with all the rules!”

“Fine.” He handed you over your notebook. “Now get dressed, we’re going racing. I hope you have black clothes and a leather jacket, because this…” He pointed at your light pink pajamas in which you had changed into as soon as you came home, “is not it.”

Your eyes widened. “Now?”

“Now,” he repeated.

You hesitated.

“Your last chance,” he pushed.

“I’ll get changed.”

____

“I thought I was going to be in the car.”

“Didn’t Jaehyun tell you?” Taeyong asked with a cocked brow.

“Tell me what?”

“That guy…” He touched his forehead and pointed at the seat next to him, urging you to sit down in front of the three monitors standing on the desk. “We need you to navigate.”

“Navigate what?”

“What did you two talk about on your ride here?”

You heaved up your shoulders and let them down again. “Actually nothing.”

The ride in the Falcon’s car to this suburb had been quiet with him focusing on driving and you concentrating on what you could make this story revolve around. No, you had barely talked and had each lived in their own mind.

“You’re going to navigate the race. Basically be his co-driver, but from here, not from inside the car like last time,” Taeyong explained thoughtfully with a smile. “Basically, you’ll do my job, I’ll only be your co-navigator and the team’s manager fully again.”

“Navigator? Eh? I thought I was only going to stay here, writing. Maybe even get the chance to be inside the car again, but since it’s against the official rules, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Wait, he really didn’t tell you anything?” You were both equally confused.

“So I’m not just… observing?”

“Absolutely not.” Taeyong determinedly shook his head. “To be part of the team means to contribute something, and for you to write this story about us, you will also have to do your part. Actually, no outsider is allowed to be with the team during the race, because the risk of cheating and manipulation is too high, so this was the only option. Jaehyun has already fallen out of grace, we cannot allow something negative to be associated with him again when his reputation is just getting repaired.”

You wanted to know why the Falcon had fallen out of grace in the first place, but you came to the conclusion that it was not your time to ask just yet.

“And why me then? Aren’t you guys enough?” You tried to conceal your rising panic. “I can just sit here and write if I’m not allowed inside the car. Maybe do some cleaning of the vehicle before you start or do some promotion work. Something I can actually do. Nobody will notice I don’t have a fixed role in the team. Besides, I don’t even know how to navigate.”

Taeyong tilted his head, his smile growing wider. “But you’ve done an exceptionally good job last time. It doesn’t matter who navigates, the person just has to be good.”

You felt your cheeks getting warm by this compliment. “I barely did anything…”

“And yet, it was enough for him to win after such a long time and have people start betting on him again. He really needs the money, so you better help him win as many races as possible in return for getting a good story.”

Why did it sound like a threat despite his sweet smile?

You sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“Take this.”

Taeyong handed you a headset and instructed you to wear it which would connect your voice to the radio in Jaehyun’s car. Through the first monitor, you had the dashcam’s point of view, which gave you the feeling of being directly in the passenger’s seat, that was not bad. The second monitor showed the car’s location in the city with all streets and buildings through a GPS while the third showed another map but with different red dots spread across the screen.

“Those are police stations and control points.” Taeyong let the tip of his index finger glide over the screen. “... of the ones we know. Spotting cars following Jaehyun as well as unplanned control points popping up will be another challenge. And these devices are police scanners. As you can guess from the name alone…”

At first, you had been excited, but as you got everything explained and shown, it dawned on you how close the driver and the navigator actually had to work, and that the driver had to trust the navigator literally with his life. You didn’t feel very comfortable with that much responsibility weighing on your shoulders. What if something went wrong and he got caught by the police? Would you land in jail then too?

“Today, it’s going to be a cannonball run with two others, meaning Jaehyun will start here, but finish at the other side of the city where most of the spectators are waiting. That’s why there is barely anyone here right now. Of course they want to see the winner. As opposed to last time’s run, this is about time rather than bringing as much distance between the cars as possible. And you know how much the sum is that you can win?” Taeyong’s sweet smile got replaced by a wicked grin. “40 million won.”

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry!”

You jumped out of your seat and ran towards the door, opening it up. The starting point was somewhere in the suburbs where you had never been before, but you didn’t care as you pulled out your phone once you inhaled fresh air that filled your heated lungs, ready to call a taxi.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

A huge figure blocked your way, and it only took you one look to first smell his lollipop, then recognize him. Damn, did he ever finish that sweet or did he have an entire stash in his pockets?

“I’m going home!”

“And why would you do that?”

“Because you lied to me! I can’t do this!”

Instead of talking you out of it, the Falcon raised his brows, then laughed, revealing his teeth between the red lollipop. “I knew it. Once a chickenshit, always a chickenshit.”

“A what?!” Your mouth stood agape, wondering whether you had heard right. “How can you say that?”

“I’m only speaking the truth. The first time, you also wanted to escape had it not been for us coming in your direction and forcing you to get into the car, right?”

You faltered. “Hm… okay, yes… but…”

He tilted his head and shrugged. “You dream about big stories, but this is what they will always stay for you: a dream. And you know why?” The Falcon leaned in, and you felt the sudden urge to withdraw, but you were completely petrified. “Because you don’t have the courage and the will to actually make your dreams come true. You're a big talker, a dreamer to put it nicely, but you’re not a doer, someone who gets shit done. I, in comparison, get shit done. And this is why I'm doing what I’m doing and you’re only watching from the sidelines, not being able to type down this story of yours like the goody two-shoes you are. Ever thought about the fact that you won’t get this promotion because you don’t deserve it?”

You weren’t aware that you had been holding your breath the entire time. Only when he approached you further and whispered in your ear, “Now go home, we don’t need someone like you here, we can do it without you”, you were able to exhale again, blood irregularly pumping through your veins while you clenched your fists.

With a fierce gaze thrown at him, you spun around on your heel, opened the door to the hall and yelled, “Taeyong, give me the headset and tell me what to do. For this round, I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” You threw one last look behind you at Jaehyun before you continued, “And next time, I’ll do it all myself.”

The door fell shut behind you, but you could have sworn that you saw the Falcon smiling.

This time though, genuinely. And perhaps partly relieved.

____

You were still shaking when you found yourself sitting in the Falcon’s car again, heading home in the middle of the night after your first race as a co-navigator. The other team members had brought you to the finish line in their car with them to celebrate, but there was not much reason for you to do so as of now. The shock was still sitting deeply with you.

“Everything okay?” the Falcon asked, but it still sounded like coming from another planet as your ears were ringing. “What are you even upset about? We won.”

“What I’m upset about?” you called out. “There could have been so many instances that could have gone totally wrong!”

“But nothing went wrong. Why are you always such a scaredy cat?” You didn’t look at him but straight out of the window. His eye roll was very visible in front of you though. “Just calm down, it’s irritating me.”

“I know everything ended well, but just imagine if a police car had suddenly pulled up. Or if someone had crossed the streets. Inside the car, it was exciting, but as an official navigator, you have so much responsibility…”

“Just enjoy the victory and the amount of money we’re going to share with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?” He murmured something about goody two-shoes again, but by now you were good at ignoring that. “Geez, did you ever have one single day in your life that you could freely enjoy without having a stick so far up your ass? Your poor boyfriend.”

It was the most nonchalant way in which you had ever witnessed the Falcon talk, even though he had mostly said nonsense.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

You gasped. “Excu-”

The next moment, you tasted something sweet on your tongue. “Close your mouth and suck.”

Instinctively, you did as you had been told as you didn’t know how else to react. The Falcon kept driving the car through the city with his eyes fixated on the road in front of him as though he hadn’t just pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and nearly shoved it straight down your throat.

“Sugar helps me calm down and the motions I need to make distract me from unwanted thoughts,” he admitted, and his voice suddenly sounded so vulnerable that you didn’t dare to respond. “I think you need that now too.”

You slumped back into your seat, suddenly very quiet. You tried not to think much about the fact that his saliva was now in your mouth too, and that you didn’t feel repulsed at the thought at all. He had been right after all. Your hands were not shaking anymore.

“The fact that I participate in those races is because I need the money,” he continued and you somehow sensed that he was currently glad that you weren’t able to look him straight in the face in case you caught his true emotions mirrored there. “And I wanted you to be my navigator, because you had done a very good job the first time around. During the races, you appear to be panicked and disheveled, but you are actually calm and collected, always knowing what you’re doing and never doubting yourself. From the first moment on, I saw much potential in you, and I needed someone like that to strengthen my team.”

“... to win the races,” you finished what he probably thought to himself in silence.

“Exactly.”

“So to you, it’s all about winning?” Your mouth tasted sweet with each syllable, and only now you recognized which flavor that was: cherry. “You wanted me in your team, because you assumed I could contribute to your series of wins?”

“That’s my only life goal. Winning as many games as possible for the money.”

You didn’t know why his answer bothered you. Weren’t you also only on board because you needed to write about this experience to ensure you climb the ladder of success which would eventually also result in money and fame? You weren’t much different from each other. He probably was only a bit more reckless in money making than you.

“I understand,” you agreed when it eventually clicked. He was trying to fool you again, so you corrected yourself, “No, I don’t understand. The way you spoke to your sister… it’s not only about money for you.”

The Falcon scoffed. “Why do you feel the need to peg me as some kind of deep character? Because I don’t fit the narrative of your story?”

This stung. Most likely because he was right. People wanted to read about deep characters, if not about a hero, then about an antagonist who told them how he had become an antagonist. But nobody wanted to read about a greedy, selfish person.

“So the main character of my story is only after money,” you concluded dryly.

“Yes, this is something you can mention in your story. The person you write about is a selfish jerk who only thinks about money.” He let out a laugh, but it rather sounded rather bitter than genuine. “I know it’s not that very deep of a story, but never told you that what you would get was interesting.”

The lollipop clicked against your teeth as you replied, “No worries. I’m a professional.”

He wanted to make himself fit his very own narrative, and you needed him to fit your own narrative. Right now, there was no character to your story.

At home, despite the ungodly hour and your clash of interests, you typed down a summary of your story and handed it in the very next day, even before the deadline. This would be your story, one way or another. You were going to make the best out of it, with the Falcon’s cooperation or without.

____

“He is very popular,” you remarked.

“Oh, he sure is.” Taeyong thrusted a drink into your hand. “He just doesn’t like this attention at all.”

You watched the Falcon getting approached by both men and women who were desperate to talk to him while you watched with your new team from the sidelines. After another race together that the Falcon had won, Taeyong had invited you to something like an after party in some other team member’s big house. You had to work the next morning and didn’t want to stay long, but you supposed you had to do it for the experience and more substance for your article. The more you had to write about, the better.

“Can you imagine that only a few months ago, it was entirely different? Everybody hated him.”

“Hm?” You snapped your head to Taeyong. “Because of the accident he was involved in?”

The look in his eyes was impenetrable, but it softened when he watched his friend. “Yes, but the details to that… I’m sure he’ll tell you himself when he feels the time is right.”

Admittedly, you knew quite a bit already by just going around and talking to people, you were just keeping it a secret since you didn’t want to come off to the team as too nosy or pushy. But none of the spectators you had come to have a short conversation with knew exactly what kind of accident that had been. You had tried really hard to gather all the information, but they just differed too much from each other.

When one assumed the Falcon had hit someone with his car and drove away, the second guessed he had run into someone, but brought them to the hospital. And the third option, and that was the worst, those people believed he had killed someone in that accident. The newspapers that had reported on this case hadn’t mentioned anything more. Just the fact that the Falcon had caused an accident in a suburb that involved an innocent passerby. And that was still enough to fall out of grace in this community, that was how high their ethical standards were.

You wondered why, with such an incident happening that involved all kinds of trope that would make people drawn to it, there hadn’t been any follow-up reports by newspapers and magazines.

Taeyong had once let slip that Jaehyun had only been able to make a comeback after this incident because he had challenged the Cheetah. Apparently, nobody ever did that. And now you were even more curious about the Cheetah, the Falcon’s biggest opponent.

From what you had heard, officially and unofficially, he won all the races and was nearly untouchable. He only challenged someone just to show off how remarkable he was, but nobody ever challenged him. That was an unspoken rule - except for when you wanted to set yourself up for humiliation. And the Falcon had done exactly that.

You looked at your team which was already top notch with a driver who was nearly impeccable. You couldn’t imagine a team that was better. Apart from the one you worked the closest with, Taeyong, there was Johnny, the mechanic, and the one which they call the investigator, though you just believed that he was a hacker in reality - Yuta.

You had seen and worked with them before all the time, but getting to know them privately in peace made you realize one thing: These were all just normal guys who knew each other from university with a not so legal side hustle. They were splitting the winner’s entire sum equally among all of them, and even if they didn’t want that much as the Falcon was the one driving and inheriting the most dangerous part, the latter always insisted on it, claiming they weren’t a work environment, but friends.

The fact that you were now a part of this close knit group, made you feel a bit awkward as you didn’t know them that well yet, but the other fact that they had welcomed you with open arms, safe from the Falcon so far though, and already saw you as one of them, warmed your heart.

Even though the money had sounded very tempting as well and you surely always got your fair share of the work that paid more than a few bills, you were surprised how little it meant to you in the end. You couldn’t really pinpoint it. The races with the team… the preparation, the process, the talks in between, the shared laughter, the banter… you enjoyed this way much more than holding the money in your hands by the next day. It meant so less when everything else hoarded a much bigger feeling that was still so unfamiliar to you, but very overwhelming.

“Ah, there he is,” Johnny whispered to you and pointed at a tall guy, surrounded by other young men and a woman. “The Cheetah and his team.”

“That’s the Cheetah?” you asked. “The one he’s challenged?”

“The best racer out there and someone Jaehyun could never beat, someone no one usually challenges and beats.” There it was. Now, you didn’t need to feign lack of knowledge anymore. “Hopefully, until now. It’s about a lot of money and the people are already anticipating it. It’s gonna be the race of the year. Maybe, Jaehyun will take his crown.”

You hadn’t known it was going to be this big and anticipated. Now, you also understood why people had welcomed the Falcon back despite whatever everyone imagined the accident to have involved. The best and most popular racer against the underdog who had fallen deep, wanting to rise again? That surely made a headline.

“The woman in that team, is she also a navigator?”

“Yes.” Taeyong nodded. “Women are mostly navigators, there rarely are female racers. As of today, I only know of two who are still active. But it’s really hard to recruit women for your team, no matter which position.”

“Because the job is illegal and hard?”

He nodded again. “Women usually don’t want to be involved in illegal activities.”

“... I can relate.”

All eyes now landed on you and you shrugged. “I just really need this promotion, you know that, guys. Just once in life, I want to be fortunate and successful.”

You were glad you could be totally open with them and not get judged, because you all were here for the same reason. This illegal sport benefitted all of you in some way.

“Just like I need money to finance my studies,” Taeyong said.

And Yuta added, “I really want to found my own company in the future.”

“And one day, I really want to move back to the US,” Johnny finished.

You were only people with dreams and ambitions. If you did things like these with all the precautions and didn’t hurt anyone, no matter how selfish or selfless, then was it really wrong to chase after your longings? You still gave the Falcon the benefit of doubt over the incident. Your team was fair and good, you wanted to believe so hard in every single one of them.

Knowing his friends and what they did for each other, you now were a hundred percent sure that there was a deep reason the Falcon always put his life on line too, and that he wasn’t as reckless and as money-hungry as he had first made himself out to be. None of them were.

Taeyong studied to help out his family, because his father couldn’t work anymore. Yuta wanted to open up a company, because his family got robbed of theirs. Johnny wanted to go back to the US to take care of his mom.

“I first thought it all boiled down to money, that glued you together,” you thought out loud. “But I was so wrong.”

It was way more than about money. It was about friendship, family and dreams. Of some things, you had only ever heard of and never experienced yourself - and most likely never would. And as this thought settled, you realized that you were the one doing all this solely for fame. You were the selfish, money-fixated person in this group. You were the one wrong here.

“It all comes down to trust in the end,” Johnny complemented. “Without a tight-knit team that doesn’t trust each other, you cannot make it.”

“But why me?” You frowned. “I didn’t do anything to earn your trust. I’m just here, because you caught me.”

“Oh, but you did win our trust!” Taeyong then objected and Johnny and Yuta nodded along. “With the way you helped Jaehyun when you were stuck in his car, that was the first race he had won after a long while and which has restored his reputation. You didn’t help him because of the money, I heard the entire thing.”

They trusted you? Why was your chest grabbed by a feeling so overwhelming like it was going to explode at any moment? Perhaps, at this point, you could imagine being friends with them too eventually… if they wanted to still have someone as selfish as you around.

“I didn’t want to see him lose,” you reluctantly answered. “At that moment, I didn’t think about a story. I just cared for his sister… and for him.”

Because you never had had the experience of being in a real family, you wanted to protect everyone that still had one. You remembered the phone call the Falcon had made, that he had promised to always come back to her. Basically, you still knew nothing about him, but what you knew was that he was way more than he made himself out to be.

You didn’t need to invent a story about him to fit your narrative. He had fitted it all along. You saw it clearly now.

“Okay, enough with the long faces, guys!”

Johnny threw his arms around all of you and huddled you all together.

“You’re suffocating me,” Yuta complained, though the playfulness clearly stood out in his voice.

“People are looking,” Taeyong worried, but you couldn’t help but to chuckle.

“So what?” Johnny let you all go again and shrugged. “How about a round of drinks for us? I think we all need it now.”

“I’ll get the drinks.”

You all shifted your head in unison and saw the Falcon having moved to your group, no sign of other people anymore, although you could have sworn he was swarmed by them only a few minutes ago.

“What about your fans?” you wanted to know from him and joked, “They all got an autograph already?”

His reply was dry with a gaze just as similar, “I told them to leave me alone.”

“Jeez, Jaehyun,” Taeyong complained, “with a behavior like this, no one is going to bet on you in the future.”

“They shouldn’t bet on who’s the nicest anyway.”

Yes, the Falcon wouldn’t be the winner of a be-nice-award. But when he volunteered to get the drinks and naturally included you, you figured that he didn’t need to voice his kindness. He rather showed it.

____

“Why will you drive me home? Didn’t you drink?”

“Because it’s late and dark, and I need to go home too. And of course I didn’t drink alcoholic beverages this entire time, are you nuts? Now, get in.”

You looked out of the passenger’s seat’s window when the car started rolling, lights flashing by in a blur as you drove through the streets at a normal speed, and yawned. “The party was just getting to be fun, you didn’t have to leave with me.”

“Just take this free ride, will you?”

“Okay.”

You listened to the Falcon’s lollipop clicking against his teeth when he moved it in his mouth and you yawned again.

“I spotted the Cheetah earlier tonight,” you said. “What’s the deal with this big race that’s coming up?”

“So the guys told you, hm.” The movements of the lollipop stick stopped. “Our history runs deep. To sum it up quickly: I can win against anyone, but never against him. I need to break this curse.”

“I get it,” you declared and leaned back in your seat. “You never beat him, so the rage waves just get stacked on top of each other, and the more races you lose, the more you want to win. Just like we journalists fight to have our stories be headliners every month and there is always this one person who snatches them the majority of the time.”

The Falcon sighed. “A weird and out of place comparison, but I guess you’re not entirely wrong.”

You seamlessly continued, “When was your first race against him?”

“I guess when I turned 21. That’s when I started racing.”

“Wow, so many years and no win against him? It must be frustrating.”

“Yeah, just rub more salt into the wound,” he muttered, a bit offended, “but as I said, this is going to end in a few weeks. He won’t be Kind of the Streets anymore. It will be me who will take the crown.”

“King of the Streets?” You asked. “Is that the official title?”

“Just a label we throw around in the community every now and then, but nobody gets literally crowned, if you know what I mean. He’s just been inheriting this title forever, and I’m sick of it.”

“Did you only start because you wanted to win the title?”

“What? Of course not! I started because my fa-” He stopped. “Hey, I know what you’re doing!”

You giggled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ask you as a journalist, I ask you as your teammate, your navigator. We have made rules and I will stick to them. Is it too much to ask for, getting to know you? We spend so much time with each other, we trust each other, don’t we?”

He became silent. You got him. “I guess so.”

This reply surprised you very much as you hadn’t expected it. But you regained your composure very quickly despite the feeling still lingering in your chest. “How many siblings do you have... Jaehyun?”

It was the first time that you vocally said and thought about his real name. You had been avoiding it, but you couldn’t keep calling him the Falcon. He was human too, although he would remain anonymous in your story.

Jeahyun paused, but eventually replied, “You already know of my younger sister. She’s the only one. I live with her and my mom.”

“How old is your sister?”

“She’s fourteen.”

“So, in middle school.”

“Exactly.”

Where was his father that he had nearly mentioned? You wanted to ask this and much more, but the way his voice had changed by the end, you knew that this was it for today. And it was okay. He should only share what he felt like sharing. Instead, you decided to tell him more about yourself.

“I live alone. My parents divorced when I was a little child, and since my mom moved abroad with a new man directly after, I stayed with my dad. But he was addicted to booze. I had to grow up fast, because whatever role a parent usually played, he wasn’t in the position to take over it. One day, when I was the same age as your sister, he didn’t come home.”

Jaehyun breathed in deeply, and you sensed that he was about to drop a comment, but held himself back from doing so at the last second. You were unsure whether this was a sign to continue or not, but you did anyway.

“He got caught in a hit and run accident. He was the driver. Despite me telling him every day to cut out on the booze or at least never get into the car with alcohol in his system, he always did. And on that fateful day, he took an entire family with him.”

Having this story sealed in your heart for such a long time, you didn’t expect the syllables to fall from your lips so smoothly as though you were retelling someone else’s past and not your personal one. After all these years, you felt nothing anymore.

“Your question from before we got into the car…” Jaehyun started, but refrained himself from ending the sentence.

“If you had drunk something, I wouldn’t have gotten in the car with you. And If you had drunk something during a race, I would have quit right away.” You smiled mildly. “I’m relieved your addiction is lollipops.”

“Why had you agreed on being my navigator?” was Jaehyun’s next question. “You should resent people like me.”

“I can’t resent the world just because I resent my father. I want you to always come home to your sister like you promised her.”

He fell into silence. Perhaps, you had crossed a line, perhaps not. But you wanted him to know that you cared. You collected stories every day from different people and they all affected you, every single fate, more or less. But for him, you didn't care like a journalist for a subject. You cared like a friend.

“I want that too,” Jaehyun eventually responded. “Always coming back home to her.”

You smiled. “Then let’s work together well.”

____

With every race, you got calmer and more professional, and even though you had lost two races so far - as constant wins were an exception anyway except for when you were called the Cheetah - Jaehyun won with you, his team, almost all races, and he rose to the top again, shining as the Falcon in all his glory.

You still weren’t able to shake off your nervousness and slight panic entirely, but you got better in managing those feelings and most importantly, you didn't let it seep through the headset for Jaehyun to feel.

Through the next races, your connection only got stronger as you figured out a way to work silently and peacefully with each other. You even bonded over unfunny jokes and small conversations you held in the car when he drove you home, which he always insisted on - most likely because you were a woman and it was usually the middle of the night.

Jaehyun’s car was his safe space, because he knew whatever you talked about, even though most of the time it wasn’t even something important, it would never leave his vehicle without his permission.

“I never drink alcohol,” he suddenly told you on one of these rides home when you both got out of the car as you had decided to make a short stopover. “I never know when my sister or mom will need me since my father is not here anymore.”

It was the first time in a long while you talked about something other than the races, teams, your job and other trivial things. You had rarely talked about his personal topics ever since that one time. You were happy to hear that you finally reached this point again, and the conversation was even opened up by him.

Jaehyun seated himself on the car’s hood and you carefully crawled up to him. He made space for you and reached out his hand when you teetered, securing you while you settled right next to him. After having taken your place, you followed his gaze and encountered a view that you hadn’t seen before.

He had wanted to drive out of the city after this race just to clear his head, and you had complied despite this late hour. Now, you were watching the sunrise from the top of a hill on an early summer morning, wondering how a moment like this, that you had never dreamed of before, was suddenly making you so happy.

“Where is your father?” you finally dared to ask, because the moment felt right.

“In prison for fraud,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “He committed a huge tax evasion crime with his own company, not only taking the business down, but all of our savings as well along with the family’s reputation.”

You were shocked. “I don’t know what to say… I’m so sorry, that’s horrible.”

“He consciously did that, knowing exactly the outcome of his actions, what it’d cause us, what it would make of us.” His blood was boiling, it was palpable. “And now, my mother is working two jobs just to make the ends meet and pay off the debt because of this selfish, money-hungry bastard.”

Jaehyun… was he racing to support his family too, just like his friends? Because a son who described his father as a selfish, money-hungry bastard couldn’t be one himself.

“I guess we both grew up with father figures we couldn’t really rely on.”

On top of the car were sitting two people with inner children that had been abandoned by their parents at some point. But you both had learned to make it through life without them. Screw them, you were going to make it better than your parents.

“I don’t want my sister to grow up thinking all men are like our father. I’m not the perfect example for an older brother, but I would do everything to give her the life she wants, such as illegal car racing just to open up the possibility to her of enrolling into her preferred university.”

So that was why and always, it was about winning races for him. Even though he had claimed otherwise in the beginning, he was not someone superficial who only cared about fame, you had always known. He cared about his family, and friends. And, as someone who hadn’t grown up with the first, it was pretty touching that a brother would do that for his sister. Nobody had ever done that for you and you didn’t have someone who would even consider doing this for you, too.

“You sister must be really proud of you.” You smiled. “You’re a good person, Jaehyun.”

Suddenly, he turned cold. “Easy for you to say, knowing only this side of me.”

These words hurt you after spending quite a lot of time with each other.

You had gotten to know his friends and now some of his backstory. You knew you were in no position to feel this way considering that he didn’t see you as his friend yet apparently. Still, it stung somehow.

“When I was your sister’s age, I would have loved to have an older brother by my side who cares so much about me. I was all alone, but your sister has you. Whether you see yourself as a good person or not, Jaehyun, it doesn’t matter to your sister at all. You’re good in her book, that’s enough.”

“I appreciate you saying that.” He was being sincere, judging by his voice. “My sister doesn’t endorse my… side hustle. But she accepts it without a complaint, because she knows that’s what gets us through. My mom on the other hand… You know how moms are. So we keep it a secret from .”

No, you actually didn’t. And Jaehyun only realized that when he saw how your face fell. “I shouldn’t h-”

Yet, you tried to overplay it with a shrug and a wave. “It’s okay. It slips off most people’s mind, because having a family is something we suggest everyone has. I don’t blame anyone for thinking the same about me.”

“It’s not okay, I’m sorry for speaking so nonchalantly,” Jaehyun replied determinedly, taking you aback. “I will pay more attention to what I’m saying from now on.”

Nobody had ever reacted that way to such a sand trap. You were really surprised how understanding he actually was. “It’s not like I grew up not knowing what a family should be like,” you continued. “I saw it in the foster family that took me in until I left high school. I saw it in my friend’s family who I spent most days with. I saw it walking through the mall passing by parents with their happy children. I know exactly what it should be like having a family, I just never had one of my own.” You dropped your head, tilting the corners of your lips slightly upwards. “But one day, I dream of having one and do it all better.”

The silence that followed made you realize how bright outside it had already gotten, and also that you had just confessed your deepest wish to someone who didn’t even consider you his friend. It had something slightly embarrassing, but also comforting, because you knew he would understand you nonetheless.

But Jaehyun didn’t say anything back directly, and you felt a bit lost. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel validated or overlooked, the gaze in his eyes reflected nothing but understanding after all. Perhaps, he just wasn’t as good at expressing his thoughts as you. And that was fine as you were a writer after all. As long as you could comprehend what seemed to go on his head, you were fine with the way you communicated. It was this fine bond between the racer and the navigator.

“Get up, we’re getting breakfast,” Jaehyun eventually prompted.

It sounded great after a good race so you didn’t complain. “Okay!”

Jaehyun was already back on the ground while you still struggled getting off the hood without slipping. That was until you felt two strong hands gripping onto your sides and heaving you up as though you were as light as a feather. You could have sworn when you got inside the car, his hand lingered on your waist a bit longer than it needed to. But it could all have been in your tired mind as well.

____

You hadn’t known breakfast would be taken in Jaehyun’s house.

“Please come in and eat, dear, we have enough!”

His mother was a cordial person whose smile brightened up the entire home upon entering. You instantly felt welcomed by her cheerful personality.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you greeted her back and kind of awkwardly followed her into the kitchen where she had already set up the entire breakfast table for four people after Jaehyun had called her from the car to inform them they would have a guest over.

Different main and side dishes were presented, and you didn’t know where to look let alone what to eat first. You could tell Jaehyun’s mother had gone beyond and above to prepare this breakfast as he had given you a heads up that she usually left very early and came home late just to sleep the little time she had remaining. Yet, she never failed to eat breakfast with her children or at least make food for them every single day. That was motherly love.

You suddenly felt a wave of warmth spreading through your body. She wasn’t your own mother, but right now, you felt very much like part of a family you had never gotten to experience yourself. And Jaehyun had wanted to show you.

Tears welled up behind your eyes as you took a seat at the opposite of him, and you tried to hide your sentiment, yet still sneaked a look at him. His soft gaze, he hid behind his long fringe. His caring demeanor, he hid behind his rough words. His apparent worries, he hid behind a long scowl. But this was all a facade for what he truly was: a loving son and brother and so much more than a money-hungry, selfish racer.

“Did you guys study hard for the exams the entire night?” Jaehyun’s mom asked and you tilted your head in confusion.

“Yes, mom,” Jaehyun replied. “But she’s not a student anymore, I just picked her up on her way to work.”

She turned to you. “Really? What occupation do you inherit, dear?”

You looked into Jaehyun’s direction for approval, but he remained silent and nodded, so you told the truth, “I’m a journalist.”

“Really?” She clapped into her hands and laughed. “Jiyeong wants to become a journalist too!”

Before you could ask who Jiyeong was, a female voice already asked, “What’s with me?”

She didn’t look much like her brother. In fact, from the moment you saw her, you thought she was the spitting image of her mother, both very beautiful.

“Jaehyun’s friend here is a journalist, Jiyeong. Isn’t that amazing?”

“Really?” Jiyeong’s eyes started to sparkle and she approached you, seating herself right next to you. “I’m editor-in-chief at our school’s newspaper! Where do you work? I read almost all newspapers and magazines on a daily basis.”

While you were explaining to Jiyoung what articles were written by you of which she indeed remembered one or two, their mother placed rice in each of your bowls along with Jaehyun’s help.

You now knew why he had wanted specifically you and came back to recruit you not only once, but twice. The first time, he had most likely not thought about involving you yet. With his sister being into journalism, he knew how important your notebook was to you and genuinely only wanted to return it. The second time, he actually came around and wondered why not combine your talent for navigation with your occupation and get at least something out of your deal, not only for you, but for him - and his little sister - too.

“My dream is to attend Ehwa Woman’s university,” Jiyoung told you when you all started eating. “Where did you study?”

You smiled. It had been your dream to go to Ehwa too. But you didn't have money or relatives who could have supported you, so you attended a university far away from Seoul that was cheap in comparison. “I went to Chonnam University in Gwangju.”

“And you came back here and made it so far! I really look up to you!”

You flushed as you had always felt inferior to your colleagues who had attended the big and popular universities in Seoul, but Jaehyun’s sister not judging you by that but complimenting your actual skills touched you very much.

“Now, let her eat, Jiyeong! She hasn’t even come to touch her food yet! Please dig in, dear before it gets cold!”

It was your first breakfast together with loving people in many, many years.

When you stood outside with Jaehyun, waiting for his sister to get her backpack for school so that he could drive her there, you told him, “Thank you for introducing me to your mom and sister. I know why you did that.”

Because he wanted to show you what it felt like to have an actual, loving family. Because he wanted to show you that your work was never for vain. He had eventually become your friend, and you his. Yes, friend. But you didn’t speak it out.

“When I found out that you were a journalist, I immediately thought great, I need to introduce you to my sister!... But journalists also destroyed my life by writing articles not only about my dad’s crimes, but also about me,” Jaehyun explained, and you nodded, knowing it was about the mystery incident he had yet to tell you. “My sister never lost focus of her dream though. She told me she wanted to be one of the good ones, no defamation, always after the truth. So when you told me you were one of these people too, I thought that maybe, I can trust you after all, even with my life.”

“And you can!” You touched his arm in a gesture of comfort, and although his eyes widened, he didn’t pull away. “I stand by what we’ve promised to each other. I won’t publish anything without your consent. And if there is anything in the past that I have to clear up for you and your family, I will do so too.”

“Mhmm.” You saw him struggling through his mien, but he didn’t respond, apparently still needing to make his mind up. If so, you let him.

“So, what do you study? You never told me.”

“Nothing.” He heaved his shoulders and slowly dropped them again.

You frowned. “But didn’t you-”

“I dropped out last semester right after the incident.”

“But your mo-”

“- doesn’t know. Neither does my sister.”

You didn’t want to judge, that was not your job, as a journalist and as a friend. So you asked, “Why?” although you could most likely already make out the answer.

“We can’t afford it as of right now, so I’m postponing my graduation. I definitely want to return, but as always, it boils down to money,” Jaehyun clarified. “I want to do it better than my father. I want to found my own company too and provide to my family the life they deserve. Even if the path to this aim might not be all legal, I promised to myself to leave this part of me behind once I’m there.”

“...And I will do everything in my might to win every race for as long as we’re working together, Jaehyun.”

“For my sister? Or for your story?”

“Not only for me, but also for your sister,” you repeated, “for your mom and for y-”

You swallowed the last part, but the way his features softened suddenly, he might have understood nonetheless, and it made your heart flutter. Perhaps, in his eyes, you were now friends as well.

____

“There is nothing personal in this story.”

You felt defeated. You had hoped, with handing in your first draft, your editor-in-chief would be totally invested in the story as well, encouraging you to continue and maybe even compliment you on the premise. Instead, while reading through all the pages with you sitting anxiously in front of him, his facial expression had fallen more and more.

“What do you mean?”

“The beginning is very intriguing with you sitting in the car, racing with him. It’s perfect, the reader gets thrown right into the story. But after that?” He shrugged and threw the papers back on his desk. “Nothing. No feelings, no emotions, just scenery description and a lot of theoretical stuff. Nobody cares about how the navigation system works or how the cars are tuned.”

“Oh, I thought it might be interesting to read how the team stays connected and what makes the cars so special.”

“Nobody cares,” he retorted dryly. “That’s not the stories people like to read. They can google all that stuff.”

Although it hurt your feelings, you had to silently admit that he was right. You hadn't given much away in the article about how Yuta worked behind the scenes or what the navigation system was really capable of according to Taeyong, but had to google a lot of things yourself too. You had wanted to give as little personal details away as possible, but apparently, it was too less. Your article was just boring.

“There is no common thread,” he criticized sharply. “Do you want to write about yourself being involved, about the sports in common or about the Falcon? Because right now, it’s all of this and nothing at the same time. If you’re that involved, write about what you do, how you learned it, about your feelings during the races. If you write about the sports, interview other teams, the spectators, dive into the history. If you center the plot around the Falcon, what’s his background, what does he race for, what’s his aim?”

You exactly sensed which direction he wanted to push you. “I’ll write abo-”

“I think,” he cut you off, “if you want to make it a headliner, you have to focus on the Falcon.” There it was. “Why did the Falcon really pause for so long? Is it true that he had caused an accident during a race? What really happened back then? How did he regain his fame? What made people change their minds? And most importantly, is he going to win and what will he do with the prize money? These are the questions that intrigues the reader. They want emotions, passion, they need to feel something while reason. Right now, everything I’m feeling is my hunger since it’s almost lunchtime.”

You purposely overheard his subtle taunt. “Those are very personal questions that he doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Well, then make him.”

You kept it to yourself that you already knew most answers. “As journalists, we also have to respect the people’s privacy and opinions.”

“Then make the entire story anonymous with all the personal information gathered,” he proposed. “It’s not less personal, but no names are given away.”

“I already plan on doing that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

”People will still know, that’s how known he is. I cannot reveal things he doesn’t want me to reveal.”

Either way, anonymous, with his alias or even real name written in the article - it would hurt him all the same. It was his personal story, his family, his friends. It made him beautifully human, but also painfully fragile. It was his story to tell when the time was right, when he decided to do so, not you.

“Very well.” Your boss got up from his seat and took his jacket. “You can publish it like this if you want. I guess for a nice closing story at the end of the magazine, it's enough.”

For the first time in your life, you were having a clash of interest. There it was in front of you, your dream job position, so close if you were only selfish enough. And behind you stood the man whose trust you had just gained, begging you to respect his past wounds. What would you do?

____

It wasn’t easy, balancing racing by night and working by day. Oftentimes, you didn’t get more than four hours of sleep, spending time at home after work just to shower, change and then leave for a race again. You didn’t complain. You never did, because you enjoyed it very much. The newly formed friendship between you and Jaehyun’s team was something that brightened up your day as you had never experienced this kind of bond before. But you also didn’t leave your aim out of sight.

With Jaehyun’s rising popularity though also came people who voiced out their doubts about him even louder. You had just finished this night’s race and were waiting for Jaehyun to take you home, already looking forward to a bit of alone time with him, when you overheard a group of young men passing by.

“I don’t care what others think or whether he’s popular,” one of them said. “As long as he’s staying silent, he’s guilty in my book.”

“In mine too,” the second chimed in. “Why has he never said anything on that topic? And now, only because he’s winning so often and challenged the Cheetah, everybody seems to have forgotten about it? Bullshit.”

Your fingers clenched by the time the third one commented, “Don’t worry guys, he’ll fall out of grace as far as he has fallen. It’s always like this.”

“Hey!” Now, you couldn’t listen to this conversation any longer and stepped out of your dark corner. “Do you feel proud, talking like this about a person you don’t know?”

They stopped in their tracks and turned around to you. “And who are you?”

“Oh, I think she’s their navigator!”

One of them stepped in front of you and grinned. “Then, you must know the truth if you’re in the team and fight for him so desperately, right?”

The other two followed suit and laughed in unison. “Or are you in love with him and would defend him even though he’s guilty?”

You realized that you actually didn’t care about the truth anymore. You didn’t care when or whether Jaehyun would tell you one day at all. But that didn’t withhold you from defending him like your life depended on it. Someone who loved his family and friends so dearly, who always paid much attention to the street and passerbyers, who had to talk you into taking a detour just because there was a crowd of people he had to race by… you would always defend your racer.

“The truth is none of your business,” you said confidently. “Do I ask about what mistakes you’ve made? A person I do not know personally? What has this got anything to do with his performance anyway? Either you bet on him or you don’t, but nobody forces you. He doesn’t need your dumbass opinions to win, he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Hey…”

You couldn’t tell who had spoken up, but you didn’t care much as you just hit your stride. “How about you get in the car and try to do the things these racers do? I bet you wouldn’t even last a few minutes on these streets. It must be so peaceful, watching from the sidelines with your big mouths as long as you’re not the ones in action, am I right?”

“Hey!”

Little did you know that the voice had come from behind you. Only when you felt an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to a chest whose scent smelled very familiar, it dawned on you that no one in the group had tried to speak up, but it had been Jaehyun who was standing behind you, most likely all this time already.

But he wasn’t mad, even though your cheeks were burning. “Listen to my girl. If you dare to raise your voice against her again, you’ll be the ones the newspapers will be writing about the next day. Understood? Now, good riddance.” One opened their mouth to retort, but Jaehyun didn’t let him. “I SAID GOOD RIDDANCE!”

They were out of your sight quicker than you could process, and Jaehyun let go of your shoulder the same moment.

“Come,” he urged you, and you silently followed him to the car. “I have to show you something.”

After you were driving for a little while all in awkward silence, you finally dared to ask, “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you the truth.”

From the way his lollipop clicked against his teeth, you could only sense Jaehyun’s anxiety, and you wondered what got him so worked up even though he had won the race. You could only think of one reason. Perhaps, today was the day.

“Does it have something to do with what happened back then?”

“Yes.”

“Did I say something wrong earlier?”

Immediately, the clicking noises stopped, but he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “You’ve gotten everything wrong.”

Your stomach dropped and you suddenly felt so nauseous. “Jaehyun… what was wrong about it?”

He was visibly upset now. “How can you say all these things about me?”

“These.. things? What did I say that was wrong? I don’t understand. I meant every word and I don’t care whether you heard them or not, because they are the truth.”

“You don’t know the truth.” He added, “Yet.”

“Even if… There was nothing wrong with what I said. You don’t need them to win, you don’t need spectators and betters. You only need yourself and your team. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

He didn’t reply, but kept his eyes fixated on the street in front of him. Not much talking, but many kilometers later, you suddenly came to a halt in a narrow street under a light post in a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. To your left and right were single family houses and nobody was in your field of vision at this ungodly hour.

“Is this…?”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth and inhaled deeply. “This is where it happened.”

“Oh. Jaehyun…” You had been prepared to be taken here, but now that you were actually at the location, you didn’t know what to say.

“This is the spot where I collided with a pedestrian.” Even though he didn’t stutter or pause, you still realized how much mental strength it had taken him to not only bring you here, but to also speak about the incident - probably for the first time ever since it had happened. “He didn’t die on the spot. He survived, actually. That much, I know after I asked around in the hospital. I don’t know who he was, where he was going, whether he had family or other people who cared. I just called for an ambulance, drove my car away and remained hidden until they arrived. Then, I fled. This is the truth.”

You couldn’t deny that you were relieved he didn’t do a hit and run. You were also relieved that nobody had died and that the truth behind the accident was something that wouldn’t shake your friendship to the core. Of course it was bad, and he knew it himself. He’d always known and deeply regretted it, every single day. You saw it clearly now.

“I believe you.”

In moments of panic, humans were indeed most likely to do things they were not proud of, things totally wrong they wished to change later if only they could travel back in time. Things, they would have handled differently if they hadn’t panicked or were too scared. Jaehyun wasn’t an exception, although the baggage he had to carry was heavier than most else’s.

Humans were not perfect. For him, it all started with his not so perfect father and the not so perfect life he was living, leading him to do not so perfect things to save what was still salvageable.

“For one hot minute,” Jaehyun continued, “I really thought about leaving him there and fleeing as fast as possible. I couldn’t go to jail like my father and leave my mom and sister all to themselves, dropping them entirely too. I couldn’t get caught, so I did my best to prevent this.” He laughed, bitterly. “After all, I am what people think of me. So your words mean nothing.”

“My words mean nothing?” It hurt. “It’s easy to tell someone how to behave when the incident has already taken place. But at the end of the day, we can never be sure how we, ourselves, would have reacted or what we would have thought at that moment. You thought about your mom and sister, but you thought about the accident victim too. You wanted to do the best for both. So you reacted accordingly to what was best in your mind.”

“Still, I’m not the person you painted me to be. I nearly killed someone in a race. And you know why? Because I thought taking a shortcut through a neighborhood would make me win the race back then. It’s not forbidden, but this is the reason we racers usually never do that.”

That was why he had been so reluctant to go through your neighborhood at your very first accidental race together. And he still wouldn’t, no matter how much he trusted you. What had happened back then was still sitting deep within him - justifiably.

“I am running illegal races with you,” you started. “I have always known that you wouldn’t work with the law. And I am neither! So what does that make us?”

He sank his head and placed his hands on his lap. “You speak so highly of me, but in reality, I am a very bad person.”

“You’ve introduced me to your sister and mother, Jaehyun. If this is where a bad person grows up, then the entire world is rotten and beyond the point of saving. But people like you give me hope.”

“Why would a person like me give you hope?”

“Because, despite your situation, you still have so much love inside of you that expresses itself in so many forms. That’s why you’re loved too, by many people.”

Silence engulfed you, and you thought that Jaehyun would drive away after sometime again, but he didn’t, so you accompanied him in this quietness as long as it helped him process the past.

“You know why I wanted to take this shortcut?” he eventually spoke up quietly, and you shook your head. “Because I wanted to end the race abruptly and rush home… That night, my sister got very sick and my mom wasn’t home. I already announced that I would drop out before it happened.”

That was something the newspapers and no one else had ever mentioned. Of course, people always focus on sensational facts. It was easier to tell a story and transfer emotions when the main feeling an article would lure out was hate against someone.

It still had been a crime, this was a fact. And he could still go to jail for that. But you believed that the man who cared about his family so much and who was able to care about strangers too, was still very much haunted by his past, far more than he wanted to let slip through his facade.

If he hadn’t had a family to take care of, things would be entirely different. But he trusted you enough now to tell you all this and not fear that you would go behind his back.

My girl… you remembered. Had he truly meant it? Had you proven to him your undeniable loyalty just earlier?

“Jaehyun…”

Slowly, your hand wandered to his lap on top of his. Against your expectations, he grabbed yours and squeezed it tightly.

____

When Jaehyun wanted to drop you off at your building much later, the tension between you was still palpable, and you didn’t know how to make it vanish.

Perhaps, only time was needed - for him to believe that nothing had changed between you, and for you to settle with the fact that the guy who caused your heart to jump, just only a little bit, had done something grave in the past that you had to work through as well. After all, it still had been a crime.

“Jaehyun…” You wanted to end the night on a positive note, but he didn’t let you finish the sentence.

“Our ways will part here and now.”

You thought you had misheard. “Pardon?”

“I can’t demand a goody two-shoes like you to help a criminal like me,” he said coldly and stiffened in his seat. “And I surely won’t help a goody two-shoes like you write about my criminal record anymore now that the truth was inevitable to come forward with. So it ends here. Now.”

You knew where this rooted from: doubt and guilt. But during your entire career path, you had dealt with a lot of people who suddenly changed their minds on a topic or got cold feet.

“That won’t happen, Jaehyun,” you claimed. “You don’t have another navigator as good as me, no one and nothing can come close to the connection that you and I have.”

“It’ll be fine,” he obliged. “Now, go.”

“No,” you refused. “I will stay.”

“I SAID GO!”

“AND I SAID I WILL STAY!”

“Gosh!” he yelled. “Why can’t you be obedient for once towards me and leave before I hurt you too?!”

You both froze when it dawned on you what he had just said. You almost didn’t dare, yet you had to make sure that what he had said was indeed real.

“You’re afraid to hurt me?”

“I deceive my mom when it comes down to my activities and my studies. If she ever finds out, she’ll be hurt. I hurt my sister by not always being there for her whenever she needs me. I hurt my team for expecting them to be there for me although they have their own struggles. And I hurt you, because I cannot be the person you expect me to be. I only hurt the people I love.”

You took a deep breather and waited a few heartbeats in case Jaehyun wanted to chase you away again. But he didn’t. He just sat there in the driver’s seat, shoulders slumped, bangs messily falling into his eyes and the lollipop stick not moving a bit.

“You want to protect your overworked mom from more worries, you want to provide a good future for your sister, and you split the win evenly among the team for them to help their families too. If I don’t expect a friend to be exactly like this, then what else?” you confessed.

But Jaehyun didn’t like this answer, it was written all over his face. You were scared that you had said something wrong.

“Friends?” he suddenly croaked.

“Yeah, friends,” you repeated slowly. “Aren’t we… friends?”

You had seen him as your friend all along, though one who made your cheeks warm when he called you “my girl” and your heart swell when he touched you. But now, it hurt you that he had never felt even the slightest of the same connection. Fair enough, everyone needed their own space, and with Jaehyun’s past, it was his own right to decide whether to ever make friends again.

You had just hoped…

Cherry.

That was the taste of Jaehyun’s lollipop, he never chose another flavor.

Though, it tasted different from his own lips than from the candy directly.

You were asking yourself how this sweet taste could calm him down when all it did to you at this moment was making your heart race and nearly jump out of your chest. Perhaps, because this time, you tasted the lollipop’s sweetness on his tongue rather than in your own mouth, and he made sure that you experienced every taste bud this flavor had to offer.

Lollipops were very sweet already, and although Jaehyun was a fast and restless street racer, his kisses were much sweeter than candy. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected him to possess this side, but now that you thought about it, the signs had already been there whenever you observed him eating the candy.

Jaehyun’s fingers curled on your back when you motioned forward, away from your seat and more into his welcoming hug. The dashboard between you hindered you from embracing fully, causing you both to giggle at some point, but you continued kissing with your arms slung around his neck, for very long even after the cherry taste had vanished.

You weren’t hurt anymore over the fact that Jaehyun didn’t see you as his friend. You had never been friends. You had always been more than that.

____

Jaehyun’s victim had been a 45-year-old party chairman - that much you had found out through your connection to different journalists and a few demanding calls. The fact that after the incident, only silence followed and no details were revealed, not even about the gender and the age of the victim, had gotten your alarm bells ringing. And now you knew why.

A famous politician involved in a street racing accident, but no one had mentioned his name? Something was not right with this story, you didn’t need to be a professional to recognize this.

“I need his record,” you then said at the hospital’s reception.

Your editor-in-chief had given you this employee’s contact, assuring you she was more lenient in data protection when she saw the right amount of money. And your boss had been very happy to pay her the requested amount the moment you told him what you were after.

“This is exactly the kind of story I was looking for,” he had complimented you. “Good job. Now, go after it.”

You had left the building right away, making your way to the hospital the chairman had been admitted to after the accident.

“Here is a copy of his record,” the woman at the reception whispered to you. “All is well, he got out after two weeks. There is one interesting thing though… but look for yourself.”

“Thank you.”

You took the papers, and too excited to drive all the way back to the office, you looked through them right then and there after having found a quiet spot in the waiting room.

There was nothing abnormal at first for a car accident. It had left him with deep grazes, a dislocated arm, two broken ribs and a concussion. It sounded quite bad, but very mild for the fact that a car had hit him, and not at all life-threatening. So the accident had not been that severe as Jaehyun had made out to be in his panic.

Perhaps, that was the reason the party chairman had never been named in the news. But on the other hand… newspapers got to write articles about important politicians all the time, and just this once, his name had been left out? This didn’t sound like something a newspaper would do under these circumstances.

The more important the name, the more clicks and sales the news generated. They must have been bribed to keep his name entirely out of all news revolving around this incident. You were wondering yourself why. Given all facts, no matter how macabre it sounded, this kind of accident would even play into the party’s hands.

A very important politician who got hit by a street racer and admitted to the hospital with fractures? It would even be a headliner with the conclusion to go harder after such illegal activities.

Everything just doesn’t sound right. Something was being kept buried that no one should know about and could possibly threaten the party’s reputation. That much, you were already sure of.

… but what could it be?

You gasped when your eyes passed the passage that gave you a single answer to all your questions.

Patient was heavily intoxicated.

Whether it were drugs or alcohol, you didn’t know. But you were going to find out soon as you returned back to the office and made a call to the police.

____

“How high is the possibility that this program is actually a virus?” you asked and looked over Yuta’s shoulder who was currently typing something into his laptop.

“Very low, but it’s still new, so we never know what will happen anyway,” Taeyong answered on his friend’s behalf and stretched out on Yuta’s bed in whose home you had all gathered today. “Can’t you detect it if it’s one?”

“What do you think I’m currently trying to do here?” Yuta rolled his eyes. “I’m a programming student, not a wizard.”

“Okay, sorry? Jeez.”

“Doyoung said that with this program, you will also get the coordinates of all cars in your ten kilometer radius that use a GPS, so you can plan the route and the car’s speed even more predictively,” Yuta explained instead. “I’m still trying to figure out how.”

“The race is in two weeks. You should hurry.”

“I know, Taeyong. You think these last weeks I’ve only been sitting around?” Yuta gave his friend a scowl. “If it’s a new program, even used before its beta phase, it’s not so easy.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Okay, enough guys!” you interrupted their bickering. “Taeyong let Yuta work and peace and rather go through the city's plan for next week with me to mark all new construction sites, okay?”

In unison, they both said, “Fine.”

Taeyong turned to you while you started your own laptop to leave Yuta alone, and Jaehyun and Johnny were currently outside to maintain his car. You felt so included like never before in your life.

You’ve always said you didn’t grow up with a family. But sometimes, a family wasn’t something that you necessarily grew up with. Family also didn’t need to be bonded by blood. Sometimes, you lost family along the way, sometimes you gained one. And everyone would always welcome you into their family.

In your case, you gained a family in the form of a strong friendship that you had never experienced before in your life. Sitting here, analyzing maps with Taeyong while Yuta was silently typing away and Johnny and Jaehyun would soon come upstairs to talk about the next race after which you would all order food and then watch a movie together…

This was your own definition of family. This feeling of being cared for, trusted and loved without expecting anything in return, so much that it almost felt like your heart was going to burst. Your team was your family.

“I want to show you a place,” Jaehyun said when you were sitting in his car when all the work was done later that evening.

“Don’t you need to go home as usual?”

“My sister is having a sleepover at a friend’s house.” He smiled. “So I think my mom will enjoy a little more alone time to rest better.”

“Okay, then let’s go!”

Jaehyun stopped the car only much later after you had driven up a mound with a path so narrow, you feared the vehicle wouldn’t make it despite all its tuning. But against your expectations, you arrived at the top in that very same car, and the view over the entire city was splendid.

“I didn’t know such a place existed!” you called out and ran around the viewing place. “Jaehyun, I can see the entire city, and we’re not even on a mountain!”

“Do you like it?” he asked, following suit.

“I love it!”

“And I-”

“Hm?” You turned around to him with the biggest smile on your face. “What is it?”

He shook his head with a soft look on his face. “Nothing.” Then, he stepped close to you and hugged you from behind. “I’m happy you love it. It’s my favorite place. After the incident with my father happened, my sister and I came here a lot, because it made us forget reality for quite a while.”

“Thank you for sharing this special place with me.” You felt him kissing the nape of your neck and you shuddered pleasantly. “It really means a lot.”

The true meaning of it was revealed to you by him right after, “I spent most of the time here before my comeback. I wanted to give up on racing entirely. One night, I didn’t come home and my sister went to look for me which took her all night. I lost track of time, and I probably felt so ashamed returning to my family. When My sister found me here at the early hours of dawn, looking like a ghost and having cried all the way to this place, I knew that I had to do everything to protect my family. That’s when I dropped out of university and decided to race again. One day, I don’t want to do this anymore. One day, I’ll be free.”

You loosened yourself from his hug, shifted around and embraced him now from the front, body to body. “You’ll be one day, Jaehyun.” He gently brushed his fingers through your hair. “One day, you can provide your family the life they deserve and can finally live the one you have dreamed about as well.”

“But do I deserve it after everything that I’ve done?” He sounded full of doubts. “I’m not sure.”

You responded, quite confidently, “You do.”

“Actually,” Jaehyun changed the topic, “This car was my dad’s. He owned two, a big, elegant one to show off at work, and this one for his free time. It’s the only thing that was left, because it was registered to my mom’s name before I changed it to mine.”

You were curious about one topic. “Why did you never sell it? You only started racing after his arrest, right? Why have you never exchanged it for money?”

“I thought about it, a lot, in fact,” he clarified. “Maintaining a car is a very expensive hobby, after all. Apart from the fact that races became my source of income as it makes money fast and much, I think a part of me can’t also fully let go of my father.” He chuckled, but rather bitter and full of regret. “Isn’t it ironic? I think of it like my father repaying the debts he caused. It's satisfying.”

A wicked thought, but you liked the way he thought about it.

“Hey,” you then said, grinning, “do you want to get back at him once more?”

____

“Close your mouth and suck.”

This time, Jaehyun didn’t mean the lollipop he had put into your mouth, but something entirely else.

Luckily, the front seats of his car were able to be raised back all the way, so he was now lying almost flat on his back, his hands gently but determinedly having guided your head to his loin while you were sitting between his angled legs. You did as you had been told and sucked him off like a lollipop.

Your arms were propped up against the edges of the seat with your head bobbing up and down in a regular rhythm, but your tongue did the most work whenever you paused your neck movements just to indulge him with your proficiency.

“Jesus Christ,” Jaehyun cursed and put his forearm over his face so that his facial expressions would be hidden from you. It was like he didn’t want you to know how much control you had over him, but this was for no avail anyway as his swearing gave it all away, “No fucking way…”

It was certainly not your first time sucking him off, so it wasn’t like you didn’t know what he looked like enjoying this kind of pleasure. You found it rather cute how he still thought he could hide this side of him from you.

Your tongue rolled over the tip of his dick, leaving a trace of saliva where it passed. Making sure you covered every angle with your motions, you halted them when you opened your mouth entirely and slowly took in the majority of his length until you felt like you couldn’t do more.

Jaehyun let out a groan that made you smile inwardly, and it only got louder when you let him pass by your lips, but didn’t let him slip out entirely. Instead, you sucked on the tip like the cherry lollipop he often offered you.

You made sure to alternate between sucking and taking him into your mouth almost entirely, and when your left hand wandered to his warm thigh, you felt how tense he had become due to the arousal you made him feel. Instead of letting your hand go back though, Jaehyun stretched out his own to grab your fingers and intertwined them.

His nails dug into your skin and his thighs became very tense, closing around the sides of your face when his release was near. He came in a long spur directly into your mouth, and you swallowed it all down, including cleaning him up - with your tongue of course.

Jaehyun reached out to your face while you were licking over your lips, and you smiled at each other before his own gradually grew more wicked.

“You know what?”

“What?” You wiped with the back of your hand over your lips.

“I also never had sex in this car. Wanna change that?”

He didn’t need to ask twice.

Although it was still very narrow in the vehicle, Jaehyun had swiftly managed to change your positions so that you were now lying underneath him and he was kneeling in front of you in a crouched position. You giggled amusedly when you watched him taking off his shirt as he tried to do so without bumping into anything, but this had been an impossible task from the very beginning. Luckily, you had undressed yourself before already, so that he didn’t need to take care of that part too.

You assumed Jaehyun still needed a bit of time until he could go in fully again, but what would come before that, you had never expected. Your fingers were desperately gripping onto the door handle while your other hand was holding onto the seat belt that slowly dug into your flesh. But this slight pain passed by you almost unnoticeably when another feeling had taken control over your entire body and mind already.

You had already experienced how skillful Jaehyun was with his tongue whenever you kissed, which was long before indicated by the way he played with lollipops in his mouth. Of course he would put this skill into use elsewhere too.

But that he would be this good… You shuddered again when you came the second time in the span of a few minutes after Jaehyun had draped his hot, wet tongue all along your folds, causing your back to lift off from the seat and moaning his name over and over again.

And even then, he didn’t stop. He came to face you after cleaning off his mouth, and kissed you for a long time until you had entirely calmed down before he crawled back to his original position and squeezed his fingers into your bum again to bring it closer to his face.

With the tip of his tongue, he searched for the sensitive bundle of nerves, and you indicated that he had found it when you let out a light squeal. His lips enclosed the bud and you felt all your blood vanishing from your face when he started sucking on it. Oh god, you thought to yourself, you were surely going to pass out.

But he didn’t let you cum this time. Before you released, Jaehyun stopped and flipped you onto your stomach as swiftly as the narrow space allowed him to. Instinctively, you had already brought your bum up to give him better access, and you bit down into the flesh of your arm on which you had your chin rested when you felt him sliding into you from behind in one long motion.

The sound of his groin slapping against your cheeks mixed with your moans filled the car, and luckily, you had been the only ones on this view point at such a later hour. You had only had sex with Jaehyun once in your home, and you had never defined what that was between you. Maybe, you were too dense to speak it out and too naive to actually believe it, but you loved him.

Ironically, you only realized that when you decided to change positions and Jaehyun was constantly bumping his head on the ceiling and you got on top. You were settled on his hips, his length buried deep inside you, but you didn’t move yet.

You let your fingertips wander over his chest, taking your time, and he suddenly grabbed them, led them to his mouth and kissed the tips. When you gazes locked, you were sure.

Yes, you loved him. With all his flaws, his burdens and his past. Perhaps, you had never experienced this kind of love, which was why you had always been reluctant and unsure, but if this wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. You just hoped that at one point, he would come to feel this way about you too.

“What is it?” he asked with worry when you made no intention of continuing. “Is something wrong? You want to stop?”

But you shook your head. “It’s just… I don’t want this moment to pass.”

Even in the semi-darkness, you encountered Jaehyun’s smile. “I feel the same way.”

Slowly, you raised your hips and slowly came back down to his groin. Jaehyun tried very hard to remain in eye contact with you, but when you did that several times more, he lost his composure again. You propped your hands up against his hard chest and picked up your pace, slamming onto him over and over again in a fast pace.

When you ran out of breath, you alternated the fast motions with sitting on his lap and just letting your hips rotate in different directions and forms, which very much pleased Jaehyun as well by the way he didn’t stop moaning at this part as well.

With time though, your stamina gave in, you slumped over him, eventually let yourself fall onto his chest, because you were too exhausted to go on anymore.

“Want me to finish?” he asked and stroked your shoulder to which you could only give a slight nod.

He kept you locked to his hips with his hands holding onto your sides very tightly and started thrusting upwards. You felt like he had knocked all the air out of your lungs, that was much much power he still possessed. Luckily, for you, you didn’t need to do anything anymore.

He was holding you as you laid on top of him, biting into his shoulder as he thrusted in and out of you with much force, which you really liked. Your thighs tensed around his sides and you whimpered gibberish into his ear, so close to cumming again.

Jaehyun let you release yourself first with a suppressed scream that partly still found a way to escape your lips, and your entire body shook as you felt your high flooding to every fiber of your body. He himself didn’t take much longer and you held him while he experienced his own orgasm, pressing you so close to him as though he was afraid of being parted from you ever again.

When you were getting dressed, he suddenly dropped, “I could get used to it.”

“Doing nasty things in your dad’s old car?” you joked.

But his expression remained serious. “No.”

You didn’t know what he meant.

____

You had written two different versions of Jaehyun’s story.

The first was the one he had read himself and approved of. There were only a few details and personal information sprinkled in here and there about the Falcon while you were trying to fill the emotional gaps with anecdotes and quotes from the other team members under an alias that they were willing to share. You were even successful in interviewing a few spectators and it would include the outcome of the race.

Overall, the less personal and official version gave a good overview over this illegal sport, and you were truly satisfied with this tame version. It was sufficient enough, intriguing enough and informative as well as emotional enough. At other magazines, the story would have made the headlines, you were sure of that. But for the magazine you worked for, enough was only good enough. You had to be better than enough, you had to exceed.

With this version of the Falcon’s story, you certainly weren’t. It wasn’t headline-material like your editor-in-chief expected after all the work you had put into it.

So you had written another version of this story.

One in which you talked about the Falcon’s past, his family, what had really happened back then before his career arose again and the relationships between you all. Yes, even between the two of you. And you had even come forward with the truth about the politician after hard research. This version of the story was personal and vulnerable, and it was the truth.

Jaehyun had gotten to read it as the first and only one.

“It wasn’t.. entirely my fault?” he had asked in disbelief when you gave him the story to read.

You had wanted to wait until you had gotten your facts straight, had enough proof, and then came over to his house to lay it out all in front of him. First, you were unsure whether he would like it, to have had you dig deep into his past.

But if he came to hate you and started to hate himself less instead, then it would have been worth it nonetheless. From one moment to the other though, you clearly saw in his eyes how much of a burden got lifted off his shoulder. Sure, the fact that the politician had been intoxicated didn’t change the fact that Jaehyun was way over the tempo limit, but he hadn’t been the only one at fault.

The politician had been intoxicated with drugs to the point of not being able to walk properly and had remained in the middle of the street, too far gone to think and speak straightly when Jaehyun had passed by.

“No, it wasn’t entirely your fault,” you assured him.

And with that certainty, you both decided to move past this as this case - to both parties luck, fortunately - had long been decided to be buried under the rug anyway.

Jaehyun didn’t come to hate you, you felt it in the way he hugged you close and never seemed to let you go after this revelation. He was, in fact, utterly grateful that you had never let go of this topic.

It was a step closer to him being free. From the very beginning, you knew which version you would publish after the race against the Cheetah. You had begged your boss to postpone the release for another month for you to include this race, and he had happily agreed - even to hold off the senior editor position.

____

“Are you nervous?”

You looked at Taeyong who took the seat next to you. Somehow, you weren’t nervous at all, even though tonight was Jaehyun’s big race against the Cheetah with so much money involved unlike ever before.

Later, you would also finish up the story with the outcome of the race and send it over still this night for the entire country to read. Perhaps, you were more nervous about this than the competition itself since you fully trusted your gained skills and Jaehyun himself. You wouldn’t treat this other than all the races before.

“I’m cool so far,” you said. “I just don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

“I hope it’s good. Jaehyun is probably more nervous than he lets slip.”

“I can hear you.” It was Jaehyun’s voice through your headsets.

“Good!” Taeyong exclaimed. “This wasn’t supposed to be a secret.”

You giggled just in the moment Yuta came over to you and put a usb on your desk. Just a few days before, you both had figured out how the new navigation system worked.

“Just plug it in and do as I told you.”

You nodded and reached for the stick. There were only ten minutes remaining. You had never seen this many people wanting to watch a race before and the tension was sizzling, not only between the teams, but between the spectators too. As far as you had heard, the bets were almost equally split as though no one could decide who would win in their eyes. The Cheetah’s team was in another building, and you wondered whether they were still nervous with the amount of times they had already won so war.

“Hey,” you suddenly heard Jaehyun through the headphones.

“Yes?”

Apparently, he had muted himself for Taeyong since he didn’t respond, but typed something into the computer and then turned around to talk to Johnny and Yuta.

“If something happens,” Jaehyun spoke, “no matter what, will you be with me until the end?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean it.”

You frowned. “Mean what?”

He sighed deeply as if he was struggling inwardly trying to find the right words. “Will you be with me… until the end?”

“Of course!” you replied happily.

“No! I mean... shit.”

What did he want? “I don’t get it.”

“I love you.”

You were stunned.

It was the first time he had said this to you. The first time someone had said this to you. For how long had he been feeling this way already? Was there a chance he’d been in love with you for as long as you loved him too? You were long lost for words and before you could even inhale to say something back, Taeyong was by your side again.

“You guys ready?”

“Yes,” Jaehyun answered quickly as though nothing had ever happened.

“Then get ready.”

____

The moment the race started, you got to witness with your own eyes why the Cheetah was called the Cheetah. Jaehyun was already a remarkable racer, but his rival was immaculate.

You wouldn’t be Jaehyun’s navigator though if you hadn’t grown together throughout the past weeks. You were his additional eyes, ears and mind. Whatever he lacked or hadn't perfected, you carried out together, making him even stronger so that as of right now, he could easily take it on the Cheetah. You were going to win, that was how much trust you had in you both.

Midway through the race though, which was a real head-to-head contest that had eventually shaken off a part of your tranquility and replaced it with a bit of nervousness because of a few instances from which you quickly recovered nonetheless, Jaehyun started to panic.

“Shit, we didn’t see this coming!”

He complained about a construction site that had not been on your screen, but only popped up now. As of this instance, he was in advance, being in front of the Cheetah. Now, it was on you for how long he could hold that position.

“Don’t worry,” you tried to calm Jaehyun down while your heart raced almost as fast as the car itself right now. “I got you.”

“Why didn’t the new navigation system that Yuta gave you see it coming?” It sounded almost like an accusation and Taeyong shot a meaningful look at you from the side. “There are construction vehicles all around it!”

“Hey.” You didn’t raise your voice, you just wanted Jaehyun to snap out of his mental deadlock since he was too into it. “Stay calm.”

Sometimes, this happened. And if he was too panicked, he’d lose focus and make mistakes. That was why you were here. By now, you knew how to handle them and not let him irritate you or vice versa.

“I’m sorry.” Jaehyun had instant regrets. “I just want to win, I need to win.”

“I know. But to win, you have to trust me.”

You could only imagine his fingers gripping onto the steering wheel like his life depended on it, the knuckles first turning red, then white.

“I can’t lose,” he breathed and repeated like a mantra, “I can’t lose.”

On the screen, you perceived that he wasn’t as fast and sharp with his driving anymore, the Cheetah drawing closer to erase the remaining meters between the two cars. The vehicles appeared on the screen as dots on a map, the two that represented the racing cars now almost melting into one. Your entire team had gathered around you and were listening to you speak, only you and Taeyong knowing the details of your driver’s panic so far.

“You won’t lose, because I’m here with you, Jaehyun,” you assured him slowly, aware that in such kind of situations, you had to pretend to be calm to keep the driver at peace, even though you were tense as hell too. “It’s me, okay? I love you too, and I will be with you until the end. I know the meaning of this now, and of course I will.”

Silence - not only on the other side of the headset, but also in the hall among your team.

“Please say something,” you addressed to Jaehyun while ignoring all the other members’ grins. “This is kind of really embarrassing now.”

“I-I… I can’t,” he stuttered. “I’m… too happy.”

You smiled. Even though you were only connected via voice and there were other people standing behind you, you felt more connected to Jaehyun like never before.

“Are you ready to win this game with me now?” you asked him.

You felt his confident grin in every fiber of your body, it had given him the boost he needed. "Absolutely."

“Hey, we’re here too!” Johnny interrupted you. “What about us?”

“Get lost.” Jaehyun returned back to his grumble, but everyone knew that he didn’t mean it this way.

When you all broke out into a laughter together that lifted off the tension, even just a little bit, you finally felt like you had long reached the finish line. Not in terms of the race, but in terms of other things.

Trust, friendship and even love.

Because even if you had been among them only for a few weeks, you couldn’t imagine a better feeling than the warmth they caused you to experience right now with Johnny putting his hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture, Taeyong smiling at you as he pointed at something on the screen, and Yuta rolling his eyes, seemingly not minding, but silently enjoying the entire situation.

This was it. This was your family. There was no deeper connection than you had with your team. You were going to win.

____

And you did.

Jaehyun crossed the finish line first.

Jaehyun won against the Cheetah.

Jaehyun was crowned King of the Streets.

…

But he didn’t last on the throne for long.

Only eight hours.

____

“King of the Streets”

… was the headline of your story that you finished late at night and sent over to your editor-in-chief so that it could still be printed for next month’s issue with the intention to be published the morning after.

____

“Congratulations.”

“Pardon?”

You were sitting in your boss’ office, the same chair, the same desk, the same window and the same view in sight. A few weeks ago, this had meant everything to you. You had wanted this, so badly, and you would have done everything for it. Now, it meant nothing anymore.

You hadn’t seen the new issue yet, that was not why you had come here. In your hands, you were holding a notice, but it had got nothing to do with what you had handed in the night before.

“‘King of the Streets’? I couldn’t have thought of a better title.” Your boss the issue in front of your eyes, but you rarely paid attention to it. “It’s great that you went with the way of leaving out the guy’s real name and even the politician’s name. Honestly, if I didn’t know who it was myself, I wouldn’t be able to guess. Now, people will get invested and do some digging. Congratulations on your promotion to senior editor!”

“Pardon?” you repeated.

You hadn’t written about the politician as agreed on. In fact, you had left out the entire storyline about the incident. That was why you had been so sure the story wouldn’t make headlines, and in your hands you were actually holding your resignation notice. You didn’t want to become senior editor. You wanted to quit.

With trembling hands, you reached out to the newest issue and looked at the headline. Indeed, this was your title “King of the Streets” with a stock photo that showed cars by night in front of a skyline. Your breath shortened when you searched for the right page and you felt like the air was being cut in your lungs when you stumbled over the story and started reading.

This was not your article. At least not the one that had been supposed to get published. It was the one only Jaehyun had gotten to read earlier, his very own, personal version. You felt sick in your stomach. How was this possible? Had you been hacked? Had someone secretly gotten access to your laptop?

“I… I sent you this?” Your voice shook with each syllable.

The editor-in-chief nodded. “Only a few minutes before the boring, second one. Of course I went with the first one. Who wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t send you this!” you nearly screamed. “How could you have published this?!”’

“Please calm down, Miss. This was sent from your very own email.”

“Show me,” you demanded and smacked the issue back on the desk. “Show me the mail!”

He sighed deeply and murmured something about short term memory, but you didn’t care much about his shenanigans anymore. Either way, today was the last day you’d ever interact. You’d just leave, what could he possibly do about it?

When your ex-boss shifted the desktop into your direction, you directly noticed, “This is not my work mail.”

It was your usual mailing name from a random provider, but neither your work mail address or your private one. Everything was similar except for the domain, indicating that someone had made this up on purpose.

“Yes, but I figured you might be using another mail, because you weren’t at home or didn’t have access. It was the big competition, so it was possible, right? Aside from that, this is your topic and writing style, even signed with your name. How could I have doubted it? I mean… this is your story after all, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

There was nothing you could say to defend yourself in front of him. You had written this all yourself, and the fact that it had gotten leaked wasn’t his problem. But someone else’s…

“I have to go,” you said.

“Well, when will you come back? We have to talk about your new position’s details.”

You laughed bitterly and didn’t forget to drop the letter on his desk. “I won’t come back.”

You didn’t care about your belongings. You just grabbed your bag, jacket and laptop and left the office without saying goodbye to anyone. The only thing on your mind right now was that you had to talk to Jaehyun and explain everything to him.

The more surprised you were to find him already sitting in the lobby. You were stunned, but as you continued your movements towards him, Jaehyun looked up, and your blood froze. He wore the biggest scowl on his face, and hidden behind it was the one emotion that hurt you the most: disappointment.

“Jaeh-”

“How could you?!” he yelled and arose from the coach, but he didn’t approach you. “I trusted you!”

You were assured it wasn’t because he was afraid he'd lose himself. He just couldn’t look you in the eyes as disappointment came forward more and more, revealing his true feelings. He couldn’t keep the angry facade up for much longer upon meeting you, the person he loved. But you still saw. Jaehyun was utterly hurt, and it was caused by this very same person.

You didn’t need to explain yourself, it wouldn’t change anything. You had betrayed and disappointed him like his father had, and there was no excuse for it. His entire past and deepest conflits had just been revealed to the country, and even though it wasn’t you who had published the story, you were the one who had written it.

Telling Jaehyun that it hadn’t been sent in by you wouldn’t change a single thing. The deed had already been done and there was no going back. You were just another person he had entirely lost faith and trust in, and there was no way for it to be restored. At least not right now, not immediately.

Jaehyun clenched his fists and pressed through gritted teeth, “You promised to me, I trusted you.”

Every syllable he directed at you pierced directly through your heart. You shouldn’t have written anything in the first place, it should have just stayed between the two of you. What had you thought while writing all of this? That you were doing him a favor? For what? No, it wouldn’t change anything, and it wouldn’t make him less sad and disappointed if he knew that you weren’t the person who had published it.

So you simply said, “I’m sorry, I should have never written this story.”

“I’ve always known you journalists were selfish bastards after all,” he hissed.

No heartbreak that you had ever experienced before came close to what you were feeling right now. At this point, you thought that you had been left by so many people in your life that you would need to entirely shut down.

Jaehyun didn’t speak it out, but you certainly sensed that he was going to leave you now, too. This was what you got for always being so nosy, for wanting so much and giving everything for it. In the end, when you reached your aim, everything didn’t matter when you lost every person that meant the world to you along the way.

“Get lost! Keep out of my sight and don’t ever dare talking to me again!”

When Jaehyun turned around without looking at you one more time, it felt like you were dying. So many people had walked out of your life already, and the man you loved the most being one of them hadn’t been in your book before. But now, it was very much real. It felt hurtfully real.

“Miss, are you okay?” the receptionist asked when she was approaching you.

You hadn’t noticed how your notebook had fallen on the floor, paper flying around everywhere. You were still looking after Jaehyun, petrified, while the young woman started to collect the sheets by your feet, but you barely noticed her. How was one to function, when they had lost what they loved the most?

Not much later, the receptionist was holding your arm after you had broken down crying in the middle of all your belongings. There was no one else anymore who could have emotionally supported you anyway, so who did it now was irrelevant to you.It didn’t help one bit though.

____

“Jiyeong?”

“Can I come in?”

It had been two weeks since Jaehyun had walked out of your life and you quit your job. Every minute of the day, you were hoping that he would come by to talk it all out. Not once had you hoped that his sister would do so instead of him.

“Sure.”

When she took off her shoes, walked past your small entrance and into your room, her eyes widened. “Why the many moving boxes? Are you…”

“I’ll be going away.”

“Where to?”

You smiled, but remained quiet, and Jiyeong immediately understood.

You didn’t want her to know and no one else either. Not because you were afraid that she or someone else would tell anyone, but because telling anyone at all would open the possibility of getting haunted by your past again. And this time, you just really wanted a clean cut.

“When are you leaving?” she asked instead, not even mildly offended to your relief.

“Next week.”

“I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you, Jiyeong. I really appreciate that.”

“Please don’t say this so easily.” Her expression changed into a pained one. “You’ll hate me from now on.”

“Why would I possibly hate you?”

She didn’t reply immediately, but nervously stepped from one foot on the other. She barely dared to look into your eyes, kneading her fingers nervously. “Because it was me.”

You were confused. “What?”

Even a bit quieter, she confessed, “It was me who sent the story to your boss.”

You were lost for words and still in hope you had heard wrong. “You sent the published story to my magazine that night?”

Slowly, Jiyeong nodded. “Yes. I found the story still open on my brother’s laptop when I went into his room to look for a charger. I couldn’t look past it, I really needed to read it. And it was so beautiful. My brother is just so deeply misunderstood, I was so relieved someone else saw it. So I wanted the entire country to know too.”

It was a lot for you to take in, and you still couldn’t believe this was real. “Did you create a fake mail account in my name and send it to my boss this way?”

“Yes. The mail from you with the article was still open, so it was easy to secure a similar address. I just acted on my personal intentions and disregarded your and my family’s feelings. I didn’t know what I would cause by doing that. I didn’t know I would not only get our mother worried, but hurt my brother and you too. I deeply apologize.”

“Jiyeong…”

“I thought,” she interrupted you, “I thought everyone would finally see my brother the way my mom, I, his friends and you see him. That he’s more than all that people paint him to be, and that the incident back then was different from everyone’s make up story. Never have I thought that I would not only ruin the lives of the people involved too, the least his or yours. I tried to change it up and make it as anonymous as possible, but I’m only writing in school, I don't have any real life experience, I’m still a child. I didn’t want all that, that was not supposed to happen! What was I thinking?!”

Her voice gradually grew louder and more upset, and when she hit the last sentence, she was close to tears.

You remembered the time when you were a teenager. There had been some grave mistakes you had made and many words you had said that you would want to have taken back immediately, but the deed had already been done and feelings had been hurt, including yours. Sometimes, the guilt gnawed on you like a parasite that never stopped being hungry.

You had never wanted to become a person who made someone else live with that feeling forever. In front of you just stood a teenage girl who had wanted to do the right thing and who just didn’t know what the right thing was. So you stretched out your arms and pulled her into an embrace. Jiyeon begged you over and over again to not hate her or her brother. You loved both of them dearly, how could you?

When she left after sharing a bottle of ice cream with you to soothe your both shaken up feelings, you also learned that Jaehyun had been informed about Jiyeong’s misconduct directly after he had come home the day the story was published - so two weeks ago.

This entire time, he knew. He had known all along and he never contacted you.

You hoped so badly that Jaehyun would still come. You were even still holding onto the slightest sliver of hope the day you moved away from Seoul, until the moment you closed your empty apartment door behind you.

But he never came.

It was just as you thought: It didn’t change anything, whether you or anyone else had sent in the story. The outcome would have always been the same.

So, if Jaehyun had decided to move on, then you would too.

Even though you had lived one of the best times of your life in that city, now it bearded nothing but a sorrowful past and broken dreams.

You wanted to move on, too.

____

2 years later

Moving out of a city didn’t simultaneously mean continuing on.

You had first needed to learn how to start life all over again.

It hadn’t been easy to begin again in Daejeon. It had taken quite a bit of time to find an affordable apartment, although the city was much less populated than the capital. It had even taken you much longer to find a job that fitted you more than the last one, and only recently had you settled with a new friend group.

Overall, life was going pretty well for you now.

Were it not for the fact that you still missed Jaehyun with every fiber of your heart.

After your published story, many newspapers had made follow up articles, even leaking the party chairman’s name. Of course he had then been fired from his position and the party would not make it to be one of those with the highest votes anymore.

Not a word was lost about the Falcon though. It was like he had never existed.

But you knew better.

Jaehyun had stopped street racing entirely and had enrolled back into university for his last year. He had taken the last race’s prize money to pay off the family’s debt - his entire team had left their amount to help him out this time, including you. This had allowed him to sell his car and start working part time in an electric shop.

It hadn’t been by far as much as he had earned as a racer, but they had made ends meet with honest work.

You were wholeheartedly happy for him when Taeyong had told you all this one day when you had met in Daejong a year ago.

“He misses you very much too,” he had said, and you had smiled lightly.

“I thought he hated me.”

“Did you forget what he said during his last race?”

That he loved you.

“I will never forget.”

Jaehyun had won the biggest race in his whole career, but he still wasn’t entirely free. Being crowned King of the Streets, having won a lot of money and becoming popular as well as getting your love - all that hadn’t set him free from his past.

“But now, it doesn’t matter anymore,” you had added, speaking to Taeyong.

He had wanted more time not only for, but also with his mom and sister. Being a good son and brother like his father could have never been.

Jaehyun couldn't put his life on hold to leave his family eventually, too. You had understood, so you had quietly accepted all this, letting him go and focus on the things he saw as important now. Where it had been racing and winning before, his priorities had entirely shifted.

If your love wasn’t part of this anymore but had made him realize this, then what more could you ask for?

By now, another year later, Jaehyun must have graduated from university already and his sister must be a sophomore in high school. Every now and then, you thought about them and prayed for their safety, but your life wasn’t on hold anymore.

“Miss, your interview partner is waiting in the lobby.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You took your notebook from your desk and walked out of your office. The room wasn’t as big as the one in your old company and the view was not as splendid, but you were editor-in-chief for the city's biggest magazine. You could write about things you really cared about like politics and things going on in town, nobody pressured you to cover topics that required you to do criminal things.

The company fitted your personality, your morals. It was perfect for you.

A week ago, you had gotten a request from someone who claimed to have a really good story for you. Even after telling the person via mail that your magazine didn’t take on this kind of sensational story, the person was being persistent, so you gave in and were open to hear what they had to say.

“Good morning, I-”

The last words got stuck in your throat and your breath caught simultaneously. You let your notebook nearly slip from your hands upon encountering your today’s interview partner.

“Good morning.”

He smiled the smile you had lured out of him only after a few weeks of knowing each other. In these two years, he hadn’t changed one bit. He looked more mature and admittedly also more relaxed, the scowl entirely gone. His clothes had changed into more sophisticated ones as he wore black dress pants and a white button up.

“Life’s been treating you well,” he added. “I’m happy for you.”

His deep, soft voice let you nearly melt again, but you were a professional, so you regained your composure real quick.

“I heard you have a really good story for me Mr. Jeong,” you smiled. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

____

Jaehyun wanted you to publish a story.

This time, with him and with his name written all over it.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, I don’t want to have secrets. I want to come clear, not only with myself, my family and friends, but also with everyone involved. I’ve already gathered permission from everyone, and even though it admittedly took me very long to reach this conclusion, I’m a hundred percent sure I want to do it. And most importantly, I want you to do it.”

It would be his personal story, from his own point of view where he would talk about his past, his father’s wrongdoings, his struggles and what he had been up to since his final race. He asked you to sell this story to your old company for a wider audience and for a follow up.

Legally, he weighed himself secure since he had talked to a few layers before making this decision. It was all for his conscience. If this helped Jaehyun finally move on entirely, then you would happily do it for him.

“Back then, during my last race, my navigator had never used the new system. I only found out much later.”

You paused your writing and looked up. You had settled yourselves in a conference room to work on this story without any interruptions. “Why did she never use it, Mr. Jeong?”

“She had so much faith and trust in our connection, she was sure she could do it without, that was how much she believed in me.”

You lowered your head and pretended to write, but out came only gibberish. Your heart was racing. You always fondly thought back to that time. “She must have been a real baddie,” you joked.

“She was.” The corners of Jaehyun’s lips curled upwards. “I don’t regret anything except for one thing.”

“Which is…?”

“Letting her go.”

You were asking yourself why you suddenly couldn’t see anymore as your vision was very blurry. When you wiped the back of your hand over your eyes, you realized that you had started crying, and the tears had stained the writing on your paper.

“I have one more question for you,” you only brought out.

“Yes?”

“Have you married yet, Mr. Jeong?”

The pause that followed almost tore you apart as you closed your eyes and prayed inwardly.

“I’ve been waiting for a special person to return to Seoul,” he nearly whispered. “When she didn’t, I went to search for her.”

You looked up to him, tears still burning on the brim, but somehow, you didn’t feel sad anymore. You felt more overwhelmed with this entire revelation that caused your heart to finally flutter again.

You had never stopped loving Jaehyun.

“And… what if that person doesn’t want to go back to Seoul?”

Jaehyun stretched out his hand and laid his palm against your cheek, wiping away your tears. It felt so familiar and warm, a feeling you had deeply missed. Even though there was still a respectful distance between you that had built up in the past two years, the connection was as deep and intense as ever.

It was at this moment that you realized Jaehyun had never stopped loving you too.

“Then, I’ll go wherever she goes.”

2K notes · View notes

dr-qian · 3 months

Text

break in pt.3 // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.1 , pt.2

mark didn't expect himself to be back again in this familiar mansion, in the middle of the night.

he promised himself to never return there ever since that "accidental" kiss you both shared, but oh well, you found a way on how to make him close to you by taking his favorite wallet.

his wallet literally has his money in it, his old school ID and the family photo he only has that he cherishes the most after leaving their home.

he actually never told anyone why he left his own home though, not even haechan. all that haechan knows was that mark has good pickpocketing skills, that's why they became best friends.

mark, with his burglar skills, entered the mansion through the window without even breaking stuff.

all he needs to do is to locate his wallet and then escape immediately, and maybe steal a few jewelries he could find there.

mark opened all the drawers and cabinets inside the kitchen, thinking that maybe you hid his wallet somewhere around there.

"shit, where is it..." mark cursed as he failed to find it after all the scavenging.

"where did she even put it?" he asked himself, thinking while scratching his temple as he slowly looked up the stairs.

right, her bedroom.

mark palmed his face, before he climbs up the stairs to locate your room.

he first went to the door of your parents' bedroom to check it if it was yours, he turned the knob slowly and quietly to peek.

he saw two people on the bed sleeping peacefully, it must be your parents. he moved his head back and closed the door slowly.

somehow, the door made some noise as it clicked when he closed it.

"huh? what was that?" your father's groggy voice was heard by mark, so he quickly moved away from the door.

"oh just go to sleep honey, it's probably just a squirrel outside" your mother sleepily said to your father before they went back to sleep.

mark let out a sigh of relief, happy that they did not bother to come out of their bedroom.

after a short rest, mark is on his way to find your room again. and he's glad it didn't take hours for him to find it.

like he did with your parent's bedroom, he turned the knob slowly and opened it to peek inside. and he saw you.

you looked like you were having a great sleep due to the random position you were in.

he also can't ignore the fact that your shorts was riding up your thighs and your stomach is peeking under your oversized shirt, but that's not important right now.

mark entered quietly, focusing on the cabinets and drawers inside your bedroom, pulling them quietly and moving your stuff around to find his wallet.

but he still couldn't find it.

"what? it's not even in here?" mark said as he became frustrated for not finding his wallet immediately.

mark turned to look at your sleeping figure, still sleeping heavily.

mark started to wonder where you placed or what you even done to his wallet, he maybe thought you destroyed it or threw it away.

or maybe, you didn't actually steal it.

mark was about to leave your room until he noticed you moving. he turned to look at you again, your arms unconsciously wrapping around the pillow underneath your head.

wait...

mark came close to your bed, walking over to the left side where your face is looking.

mark then quietly reaches his hand under your head to lift it, and tried to lift the pillow up but oh boy, you grumbled in your sleep as you felt some movement.

he quickly withdraw his hands away from you.

your face turned to the other direction and your body changes its position.

he waited for a minute to make sure you were sleeping heavily again like a baby before he continues what he's doing.

and when that happened, it was now his time to make a move. he moved one of his hands to carefully lift up your pillow instead before dragging his other hand under it.

mark had his eyes furrowed when he still couldn't feel it.

maybe it's hidden on the other side of the pillow?

mark switched his hands to the other side of your pillow instead of walking over to the side of the bed, unconsciously getting his knees up there as he reached his hand further underneath it.

then mark knew he made the biggest mistake when his left arm accidentally brushed your nose.

your brows furrowed from that action, but you still have your eyes closed. mark thought he was gonna get caught in that moment until you wrapped your arms around his left arm.

"mmh mark..." you sighed dreamily, smiling in your sleep.

what?

mark froze when he heard you sighed his name.

he watched your eyes flutter open, still frozen on top of you as you process what's happening right now.

"what the? AH-- hmmph!" mark is too damn quick to shut you up again.

"no no no, be quiet, it's just me, mark" mark said to you, his hand covering your mouth as he begs you to be quiet.

you followed what mark said and signalled him to put his hand away now.

you immediately backed away from mark and lifted your blanket up closer to your body.

he lets you back away from him, but he was still kneeling on the bed.

"look, i didn't mean to break in your bedroom, i'm just-"

"are you taking advantage of me?" you cut him off his words, which made mark stood up from your bed immediately.

"what? no! i'm not- i'm not that kind of person you think i am!" mark says, almost on the verge of yelling. you let go of your blanket as you could tell that he is not really doing that to you.

"i'm here to look for my wallet, and i think you took it" mark said straightforwardly.

you, on the other hand stayed quiet, as you suddenly turned to your bedside table and pulled out mark's brown wallet from its drawers.

how come he did not see that when he was searching in all your drawers?

"you're looking for this?" you asked as you showed him it.

"yes! thank you, now give it to me" mark stepped closer to you to claim it but you backed your hand away from him.

"hey, what are you doing? give it to me" mark said, attempting to grab it again but you hid his wallet behind your back, still remaining quiet before you spoke.

"but mark, if i gave you this wallet, there's a chance i won't see you ever again..." you reasoned to him.

mark sighed, looking around the bedroom as he tries to find the words to say.

"uhh look, that kiss we had before, it was an accident, i didn't mean to do that"

"that was my first kiss" you quickly rebutted.

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't know"

"so now you pay the consequence of staying here with me" you said to him, with your arms crossed on your chest. keeping the wallet behind your back.

what the hell is up with this girl?

"uhh look, uhm..." mark trailed off, realizing he doesn't even know your name yet.

"y/n" you said blatantly.

"y/n, uhmm i know that we shared your first kiss together in an accidental way but, i know there are some other guys better than me out there that could be giving you everything you want in a way that i couldn't. i'm sorry that i couldn't be that guy for you..." mark said to you in the most sincere way he could ever do. so poetic.

...

"okay" you shrugged while staring at him.

"can i have my wallet back now?" he asked.

"nope"

"what? dude, i just told you that-"

"and? you're still not gonna have your wallet back..." you told him.

"okay, what do you want me to do?" mark asked, repeating back the words he asked again before the accident.

"hmmm..." you looked around the room to think of what he could do for you.

i know!

"how about...you, take me out on a date on saturday?" you asked him.

"i can't do that, i'm sorry...just give me my wallet back!" mark says before reaching his hands behind your back to get his wallet.

"no! i'm going to scream!" you said, trying to prevent his prying hands from your back but it won't budge him.

"just give me back my wallet" mark said as he continues to get his wallet.

"no!" you quickly hid his wallet underneath your blanket and between your thighs.

"what are you gonna do now?" you taunted him.

"geez fuck! you're so difficult..." mark mumbled underneath his hands that was planted on his face due to the frustration.

on the other hand, you just giggled at his actions.

"okay, you win, i'll take you out on a date tomorrow" mark told you.

you let out a squeak of victory.

"now please, let me have my wallet back?" mark asked you, trying to make himself calm.

"nuh uh, how would i know you're true to your words?" you asked him.

fuck, what a smart girl

"okay, just bring that damn wallet tomorrow on our date" mark said, before backing away from you.

"give me your number so i could text you where we'll meet up" he told you, and so you happily brought out your notepad and scribbled your number on it before ripping it and giving it to mark.

"here you go" mark accepted the note in his hand and looked at it.

"i'm going to leave now, make sure you show up" mark said, heading to your door.

"i will, just also make sure that you show up" you smirked at your words, making mark shake his head out of disbelief.

mark finally exited your bedroom, going back to haechan's basement carrying a piece of paper with your number on it instead of his precious wallet.

mark realized on his way home that he really really messed with the wrong girl.

and now you're one of his problems.

269 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 3 months

Text

break in pt.2 // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.1 , pt.3

he's never coming back...

you already told yourself that multiple times, but you were still standing on front of your dining room's window, looking around for any signs about mark's arrival.

"honey, what are you looking for?" your mom sweetly called out your name, making you halt your actions.

"oh, nothing, just nothing" you shook your head, but it's not convincing enough for your mom to believe you.

'clearly, there's something going on' your mom thought. but she just doesn't want to bother you more.

her and his husband's jewelries went missing a few nights ago, but it didn't bother them that much since those were actually old and boring to wear now.

they also planned on going on a trip to a another jewelry shop someday to buy more.

"well, just sit down for a while and eat 'cause dinner's ready"

you walked over to a chair with a slumped back, sat down with a defeated sigh, and ate.

he's never coming back...

he already got what he wanted...

you told yourself again, just to make you let go of him already.

meanwhile, mark is back on the streets.

stealing phones and wallets as usual, with his best buddy haechan.

"yo dude, you should get that guy" haechan held onto his left shoulder, came close to his ear and pointed at a middle-aged man in a luxurious white suit, busy typing on his phone as he stands in the middle of a sidewalk.

"why can't you?" mark looked at him and asked.

"'cause i'll be handling that poor old lady right there" haechan pointed at the lonely granny on the other side of the street, waiting for the green light turn into red so she could walk, using their walkers.

"and if i helped them cross the street, she would give me lots of money!" haechan smiled at the thought.

"and if she doesn't?"

"i'll steal their purse" haechan said, as mark shakes his head.

"whatever, i'm on that guy.." mark said before walking towards that middle-aged man.

he ignored haechan's "good luck" behind him as he thinks of a way to rob that guy without being caught.

mark then, stands too close to him, but seems to be unnoticed. he looks around the area, pretending to admire it to avoid suspicions from other bystanders.

his hands slowly reach up to the man's left pocket, the fat wallet with credit cards and cash are coming into his view.

holy shit...

mark cautiously dipped his hand into the man's pocket, his fingers finally coming in contact with the leather texture.

'i got it! i got i--' mark slowly lifts up the wallet until

"MARK!"

"huh?" he muttered as he turned his head around quickly to spot a familiar girl running up to him fastly.

"hey wait! no!" he said, but you already hugged him.

it was you.

---------------------------------------------------

you thought that maybe going around the city with your parents can take your mind off him.

and oh boy, it didn't.

you stilk think about the kiss with him, every now and then.

it's driving you insane.

"do you like to buy something, sweetie?" your mom asked, sat beside your father on the driver's seat, looking at you through the rear-view mirror inside the car as she applies her lipstick on.

"yeah i guess so, i'm planning to get new shoes, my classmates already saw my old ones multiple times" you told them, thinking about the time your other rich classmates made fun of you for wearing the same shoes in school thrice.

"okay! me and your father will just be hanging out at the jewelry shop right there" your mom said, pointing at a jewelry shop you didn't even bother to look at.

they dropped you off to the side, as the car you were just in drives away to another direction.

you strolled around the city, finding some nice shops to shop in, and thinking of mark as well...

hmm, i wonder what he's doing right now

you thought to yourself, until you spotted that oh so familiar black beanie.

you couldn't believe it!

"MARK!" you screamed before running up to him. the people passing by suddenly stopped to look at you until continuing to walk again.

the middle-aged man was nudged a little, so he decided to move away from what's happening.

mark frowned at him leaving, and then looked down at you, still hugging him.

"oh my god, i thought i'll never see you again" you said to him, basking in his warmth.

his hands mindlessly went to hold onto your waist and push you gently, hoping you'll get the signal from him to let you go.

"don't you know i've waited for you for so long to come back?!" you looked up at him with some cute puppy eyes. you hope.

"I..." mark clearly doesn't know what to say as he looked to the side and spotted haechan watching them, sporting a beige purse on his arm with a smirk on his face.

"help me" mark mouthed at haechan, but he just laughed at him.

mark looked down on you.

"uhh, okay, it's nice to see you again too, but i have to go" mark said to you, finally making you let go of him.

"huh? where are you going--" you asked as mark quickly leaves the area. you couldn't find him anymore.

he left you confused and dumbfounded.

AGAIN.

---------------------------------------------------

"so you're telling me, you kissed this girl so you won't get snitched out, and now she's in love with you and stalking you around the city?" haechan says to him, his ass sitting on the poor and abused sofa with his feet propped up against a wooden table as he pulls out the contents of the old lady's purse one-by-one.

they're currently at their secret hideout, haechan's basement.

"yeah, I clearly didn't know what to do next, it was so stupid of me. fuck!" mark says back, pacing back and forth on front of haechan, his hands on his hair.

"well, that's good because you will now be able to get closer to her and her family. they will let you in their mansion, and if you got in, you can steal everything you want and just leave immediately like you were never there" haechan reasons, suddenly pulling out an inhaler from the purse, then throwing it aside.

"what? no way, i would never do that!" mark replies to him, stopping to look at haechan's face in a disgusted way.

"geez, it's just an idea" haechan said, putting his hands up to tell mark to calm down and let it go.

"well, whatever, she's your problem anyway and not mine..." haechan chuckled as he pulled out a bundled cash from the purse counting it immediately, ignoring mark.

mark sighed and plopped down beside haechan, watching him count the money.

"yo, you have to give me a share of tha-" mark says as he feels up his now empty pocket.

wait, huh?

mark quickly checked his pockets to make sure he's not crazy, but he's really not and his wallet totally gone!

it only has $16 in it, plus his old school ID and his family picture that he cherishes.

where could he even dropped or misplaced that.

better yet, who even stole it?

"yo dude, did you take my wallet?" mark nudged haechan's shoulder to ask him.

"i would never steal your empty and ugly-ass looking wallet" haechan stated to him, still looking at the huge money he's holding in his hands, counting it over and over again.

"i'm serious dude!"

"i really didn't!"

if it's not haechan, then...

oh no.

---------------------------------------------------

after mark left you alone again in the city, you were not really disappointed with it.

you were on your bed, kicking your feet up in the air as you look at mark's old school ID and family photo.

oh he looks so damn cute.

you really didn't think mark wouldn't feel you taking his wallet while hugging him.

you laughed at the thought, guess he wasn't the only one with robber skills after all.

'i hope he tries to get his wallet back from me'

342 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 3 months

Text

real talk

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

🔮 preview.“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, reader has a hard time cumming, oral (f/m receiving), Mark is a MUNCH, deep throating, fingering, masturbation, use of toys/vibrator, dirty talk, praise, Mark is a simp, sex realism, overthinking during sex, mentions of sexual favours in return for affection, a string of bad ex-lovers, breast worship, creampies, aftercare, finger sucking, drunkenness, etc… I pet names: (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.4k

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, line chef!Mark, slow burn, coworkers to lovers, fuck girl who looks like sunshine meets a serial monogamist who looks like a fuckboy, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I wanted to touch on some realism to kick off the year. Not everything is as easy during sex as it appears in fanfic/p*rn, so I wanted to make something that might be more true to the real experience of afabs who overthink and need extra help to cum- I hope maybe this fic can normalize girls who need some extra machine power to get off ;)

One:

Mark has only been working at his new restaurant for two weeks, but he’s already fallen in love with the place. Morning shifts have been good for him. With the help of his favorite expo girl - who always takes the time to explain small details and things he’s been messing up on - he’s already gotten used to the menu. Every day feels better and better.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” you grin, inspecting the plate.

When he’d first been hired, the fish he’d cut had come out mangled, but after talking him through it, you’d both realized it had been a knife issue. Sharpening his blade had led to Mark perfecting his slices, and now, he eagerly awaits your praises when he puts his food up in the expo window.

Mark’s eyes follow you as you dart off toward the bar, the plate of tuna balanced perfectly in your hand. The new chef can’t help the smile that works its way onto his lips, and he leans forward, hand flat on the cutting board station in front of him.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” Hyuck’s annoying voice snaps him out of his trance, and Mark turns to look at the man next to him. “God, can you two make it any more obvious that you’re into each other?”

“She’s just doing her job,” Mark assures the other line chef, but he can feel his skin heating at the idea.

“Sure she is. But she doesn’t compliment my cooking as much as she does yours.” Hyuck crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh as his gaze shifts to the view through the expo line. You’re at the bar now, chatting with the man who you’ve just served. However, you’re taking longer than normal, and you’re smiling a lot too.

“No fucking way,” Hyuck breathes, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “That guy is hitting on her.”

“Is he?” Mark also dips his head toward the expo window, eager for a look.

“Yeah, mans just slipped her his number,” Hyuck laughs. “That’s our little Sunshine though, isn’t it? This restaurant is her playground.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asks.

“Just that she’s quite popular,” Hyuck brushes it off as you approach the expo line again. “Did you get a number, sweet thing?”

“Why, you jealous?” You grin, holding up the slip of paper with digits on it.

“You wish,” Hyuck scoffs, but Mark gets the feeling there’s something else going on between the two of you, something unspoken. He’s still getting used to the dynamic of the restaurant, and in work spaces like this, relationships aren’t uncommon. He wonders what history you have with Hyuck, wonders what chance he has with you- wonders if it’s even a good idea.

Two

“Luna never runs her own food,” Sumi notes, standing with you by the entrance to the restaurant while you watch the tall waitress lean against the expo window. “I know that our new chef is cute, but, damn.”

“She can do what she wants,” you laugh, wiping down menus. “Makes my job easier.”

“You know, it’s kind of felt like you and Mark have some sort of understanding,” Sumi grins, moving close enough that your hips touch by the host station. “He watches you a lot.”

“Does he?” Your gaze moves back to the expo line.

“Uh huh, almost as much as Hyuck does- which, by the way, you sure did a number on him.”

“Hyuck will get over it, he’s a fuck boy,” you wave your hand. “I’m great at attracting that kind of guy.”

“Do you get fuck boy vibes from Mark?” Sumi wonders, tapping her pen against the top of her Ipad thoughtfully.

“He’s definitely cute enough to be a womanizer, don’t you think?”

“Key word being cute,” Sumi points out. “I don’t know, he doesn't give me fuck boy vibes like the other line chefs do.”

“Well, he’s roommates with Jeno, isn’t he?” Your eyes move to the bar. Jeno’s a night bartender, but his close friend, Renjun is working today. “Jeno’s a fuck boy, he got Hyuck and Jaemin jobs here. They’re both fuck boys. It would make sense if Mark was that kind of guy too.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Sumi states, crossing an arm over her chest. “Speaking of men though- whatever happened to that guy who gave you his number the other day? Are you actually considering a date with him?”

“I already had a date with him,” you admit.

“Yikes, from the way you haven’t mentioned it at all, I’d guess it didn’t go so well?”

“Meh,” you shrug your shoulders. “He won’t be getting a second date.”

“How many first dates have you been on this year?” Sumi asks. “Didn’t you say it was like… a lot?”

“Too many to count,” you giggle.

“So what’s the deal with that? Like- what’s your type? I know you were seeing Hyuck for a little while, how come that didn’t work?”

“It just didn’t,” you say, looking down at the menus you’ve wiped clean. “I try not to think about my failures too much.”

“Really? But you could learn so much from them,” Sumi frowns. “I mean- look at me and Doyoung. I was never into the more serious types, always went for fuck boys and younger guys- but after some soul searching, I realized I needed someone older who had their shit together.”

“You also have a thing for guys in powerful positions, and Doyoung is literally one of our managers,” you point out.

“Well, I’m still a work in progress,” Sumi winks. “Anyways- think about it. If you look at your dating patterns, you might be surprised by what you find.”

Three

There’s nothing like the air outside after being in a hot kitchen for a few hours. The lunch rush is finally over, and after having a 20 top that ordered an insane amount of food with an even crazier amount of modifications and allergies, Mark is ready to take a massive puff from his vape pen.

He stands by the back exit to the restaurant, looking out at the cars on the street as he takes a long drag. As he inhales, the door behind Mark opens, and he turns to come face-to-face with you.

The shock of seeing you makes him choke a little, and he begins to cough out a large puff of smoke. Mark’s lungs burn, and his skin feels even hotter, enflamed by the embarrassment of you seeing him take a crappy hit when in reality, he’s a vaping veteran.

“You good?” you ask, reaching out and gently rubbing his back as you step past him.

“Yeah, I, uh-” Mark’s entire body tingles at the physical contact. “Sorry, you just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you grin, stopping in front of him. He notices the way your eyes go to his vape pen, and he immediately holds it out to you.

“Want some?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.” You reach out and accept the sleek black vape. “What’s the flavor?”

“Uh… cotton candy?” God, Mark feels like a fool, especially when you raise a brow at him. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Didn’t peg you as a sweet tooth type,” you grin, bringing the refillable device to your lips. Mark watches you take a drag, focusing on your mouth and the way you look sucking on something- he starts to imagine what you’d look like sucking on something else, something substantially bigger.

As you exhale, you cough a little, and Mark wonders if you’re doing that to make him feel better about his screw-up a moment ago- or maybe you simply don’t vape often, he’s not too sure.

“Thanks,” you say, still coughing as you hand the vape back to Mark. Your fingers brush gently as he accepts it from you, and as Mark brings the device to his mouth, he’s extremely aware of the fact that your lips had just been where his now are.

He wonders if it means anything that you’d be so willing to swap spit like this, even on something as innocent as a vape pen.

“How long are you here till?” you ask, breaking him from his daze.

“Started at seven am, eight-hour shift, should be off around three when the night cross-over guys come in,” Mark explains.

“Any fun plans for tonight?” you continue to press. “It is a Friday after all.”

“No plans, will probably just go home, make some food, and watch Netflix all night… what about you?”

You sigh. “No hot dates, unfortunately. Will probably do the same as you. Do you have any good show recommendations? I’ve been looking for something new.”

“I mean, it depends, what are you into?” Mark asks, eager to hear more about your tastes, your likes and dislikes- he knows so little about you, mostly things related to work. He’s curious about what you do in your downtime, and he’s grateful he has an opportunity like this to get to know you even a little bit better.

As you part your lips to respond, the back door swings open, and Hyuck steps out, already mid-puff of his neon orange vape.

“Oh,” the line chef grins, exhaling through his nose and flashing a grin, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you respond quickly, and Mark notes the shift in your energy, “I was just leaving actually.”

“See you later,” Mark offers, watching you hurry off.

“Classic her,” Hyuck sighs, coming to stand next to Mark.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a runner, that one,” Hyuck takes another puff from his vape.

“So you two definitely used to date,” Mark states. The interaction he’s just witnessed verifies his suspicion, and since they’re technically outside of work/the kitchen, Mark feels able to actually discuss this now.

“I don’t know if I’d call it dating,” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, eyes still fixed on you where you’re crossing the street a couple hundred feet away. “Look, do you want real talk? You wanna know about your favorite expo girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna know.” Mark lifts his vape to his lips, readying himself for whatever is about to come out of Hyuck’s mouth.

“I know she looks like sugar and sunshine, but I hate to burst your bubble Mark- she’s a bit of a fuck girl, that one.”

“It takes one to know one,” Mark points out.

“Touche, but to be fair, I never claimed to be anything other than a guy who likes pussy, and little miss sunshine knew that when we started hooking up a few months ago.” Hyuck lets out another large puff of smoke into the air. “Look, I said I’d give you real talk so here it is. She’s got a lot of expectations. Girl reads those horny romance books-”

“Erotica.”

“Yeah, that’s it, erotica.” Hyuck nods to himself. “Well, she reads erotica, and her ideas about fucking are kind of hard to make real. She’s too in her head all of the time. Apparently - and don’t repeat this anywhere - but apparently no guy she’s fucked has ever made her actually cum. She has this thing where someone told her that if a guy doesn’t make you cum, he doesn’t add to your body count, so allegedly her body count is zero and she’s a virgin, but we both know it’s a lot higher than that.”

“The whole body count thing doesn’t phase me,” Mark says quietly, although the wheels in his head are spinning.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Hyuck scoffs. “Just listen, if you’re into her, it’s not going to work out. She’s not for beginners like you.”

“Beginners like me?” Mark side eyes the line chef.

“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

Four

“Mark?” you ask, looking at the takeout bowl in front of you.

“Yeah?” he leans forward, lips parting as he waits for your judgment.

“Didn’t they order the spicy yogurt on the side?” You push the rice bowl forward, pointing at the lines of orange tinted cream that cover the veggies.

“Shit,” Mark cusses, grabbing the chit-paper receipt and scanning it. “There were like, three other modifications, I didn’t even see the yogurt on the side.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “It’s takeout, and there’s pretty much no one in the restaurant, so you have time to make another… besides, I’ll just take this one as my lunch.”

One of the perks of the job is getting to take home the food that’s not correct. You’d been dreading going to the grocery store, your fridge empty of easy meals, but now you don’t have to make the trek, and you’re more than happy about it.

“You know, Mark, you’re my favorite new chef.” He’s also the only new chef, and you’ve been reaping the rewards of minor fuck ups the past two weeks.

Mark, however, doesn’t seem to note your teasing, and he offers you a genuine smile. “You’re my favorite expo girl.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why’s that?”

“You’re really nice about things I mess up,” Mark’s eyes shift to the dragon bowl you’re packing up. “Like, you point things out, and you turn them good. As you said, it’s an easy fix, I have the time, and now you get to eat that.”

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s for sure,” you laugh.

“You’re also pretty happy most days, always makes me happy to come in and see our Little Miss Sunshine.”

“Jeeze, not you calling me that pet-name too,” you roll your eyes. Hyuck had taken to calling you that a few months ago, and somehow the title had stuck. Mark was the only chef using your real name, but it looks like those days might already be behind you.

“It fits,” Mark assures you. “I think it’s cute.”

“Does it fit because I’m cute?”

You notice the way Mark immediately swallows thickly, his skin turning a pretty shade of pink. “Uh- I mean, yeah,” his voice cracks, and he fiddles with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows, “you’re cute-”

“Oh my God-” you stare at his forearms, which are usually covered by his chef coat. “Have you always had all those tattoos?!”

“Did you really never notice these?” Mark looks down at his arms, lifting them so you can see the details.

“I have never noticed them,” you confirm, leaning forward. “Damn, how many tattoos do you have?!”

“A lot?” Mark’s tattoos are patchwork style, all black. They litter his forearms, and you wonder how high up the markings go- you wonder if his chest is covered, or his back- what about his legs?

“I need a tattoo tour,” you insist.

“I mean… I can’t show you all of them-” Mark says sheepishly.

“Start with that one,” you point at a tattoo of three letters near his inner elbow, “What’s SSG mean?”

“So uh- the first restaurant I worked in, a few of us dishwashers worked our way into the kitchen with no formal training or anything- just started at the bottom, and went up from there. One of us came up with the idea of being the Soapy Suds Gang, like- dishwashers to chefs. Was at that restaurant from the age of fifteen to twenty, and when it closed down cuz the owners just didn’t wanna be in the business anymore, me and all the others got the matching SSG tattoo.”

Mark is adorable. Like, shockingly so. It’s such a stupid yet endearing story- and for some reason, it feels so on-brand for Mark.

He begins to tell you about a few other tattoos. There’s a shotgun to commemorate his years playing Call of Duty online with friends. A cartoon puppy because apparently his mom never let him get a dog - something about him not being able to handle it if the dog ever died - so when he turned eighteen, he got a dog that could never bite the bullet, etched into his skin with black ink.

All the marks have meaning, stories that make up the groundwork of Mark’s life.

“What about that one?” you ask, noting a King of Hearts tattoo that he’d skipped over.

“Oh, uh…” Mark rubs the back of his neck shyly. “My ex-girlfriend wanted a Queen of Hearts tattoo, so I got this one, and… I mean, I don’t regret it, I was with the girl for three years- but, it’s not a tattoo I talk about too often.”

“Three years?” you ask in shock. “You were with your last girlfriend for three years?”

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“It’s just- I mean,” you lick your lips, leaning in so Mark’s the only one who can hear you, “I hate to say it, Mark, but you look like a total fuck boy.”

“I’m really not,” Mark admits.

“Even before your last ex?”

“Even before,” the line chef confirms. “I’ve got two ex-girlfriends. The last one ended about a year ago, dated her from age twenty-two to twenty-five. Had a girlfriend from when I was sixteen to twenty-one-”

“So a three-year relationship and a five-year relationship?”

This gossip keeps getting juicier and juicier.

“Yeah. The first one moved to another country to teach English, and I’ve never been that into long distance. We tried to make it work, but we agreed the best thing was to let each other go. Then the last girl decided she wanted more from life than some line chef so…” Mark trails off and you feel your heart hurt for him. “Anyways, what about you? How many relationships have you had?”

“A lot more than you,” you answer quickly, although, that’s only if you count one-night stands, flings, and situationships, but you won’t go into those details with Mark right now. “I mean… are you looking for anything right now?”

“What do you mean?” Mark cocks his head to the side.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but… a few of the waitresses are into you,” you whisper.

“Really?” he looks past you at the restaurant, and you see him trail Luna with his eyes. “That’s nice and everything, but waitresses really aren’t my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

“Expo girls.”

His words hit you in your chest, and you can feel your pulse quicken immediately.

“I mean-” Mark’s skin has returned to that pretty pink colour. “My first girlfriend- the five-year one, she was the expo girl when I met her- we got close cuz we spent so much time together. I didn’t mean you- I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything- not that I don’t think you’re cute, cuz you’re definitely cute- fuck.”

You watch him, smiling and completely amused. It appears you’d read the new line chef all wrong. He’s not a fuck boy, he’s a lover boy, and you kind of adore that about him.

“I should uh- I need to remake this dragon bowl-” Mark turns away from you, and you watch him scurry off to the fridge to grab vegetables.

You’re kind of hoping to tease him so more when he returns, but before he does, Doyoung appears from the back, and he waves you over. “It’s been dead for half an hour,” your manager notes, “you’re cut. Head home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Five

Mark hasn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation. All night, he’d had you on his mind- and he’d kind of been hoping to get to talk to you today, but you have the day shift and this is one of his first nights scheduled.

Even so, Mark arrives to work thirty minutes early just on the off chance he’ll catch you, and as he’s waiting outside the backdoor, hitting his vape, his hopes come true.

You step out of the back of the restaurant, looking down at your phone. The jacket you’re wearing today is vibrant in contrast to your all-black uniform, and the comfy sneakers you always put on after your shift in flats are beginning to look a little worn out now that winter is almost over.

“Hi,” Mark says, drawing your attention.

“Oh,” you put your phone into your pocket, offering him a smile. “Hey- you just starting?”

“In ten minutes or so,” the line chef nods. “I uh- I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Apologize for what?” You cock your head to the side.

“All of it?” Mark suggests.

You laugh, and the sound does things to Mark that he’ll never be able to express. “Seriously, we’re all good,” you assure him. “I think you’re pretty cute too, so, don’t worry about any of it.”

Mark’s mouth feels dry, and it’s not just from the vaping. He fiddles with the device in his hand, working up the courage to say what’s on his mind. “I was wondering- I mean, it sounds like you’re still on the market and all- so I was thinking, maybe, if you’d like- maybe we can go out sometime, or something- but no pressure.”

Your smile widens, and you step closer to him. “What would going out with you look like?”

“Honestly…” Mark swallows thickly, “it would look more like staying in. Since we both work in a restaurant- or maybe it’s just a ‘me thing’, but I’m not super into drinks as a first date, or even food- I’m a bit of a homebody. I’d love for you to just come over, watch some netflix, talk- that sort of shit.”

You look him up and down, and Mark’s body tenses as he waits for your response.

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” you admit. “Here, give me your hand.”

Mark holds out his palm, watching you pull out a Sharpie from your pocket. You write your phone number across his skin. “Careful,” you say, as you draw the last digit, “Don’t wash this off or anything.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, already planning on taking a picture of it with his phone just in case.

“I should get going, but yeah- text me when your shift is over and we can figure something out.”

“You got it,” Mark grins, unable to hold in his excitement any longer. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

With one final exchange of eye contact that makes Mark’s heart lurch in his chest, you walk off, the line chef’s eyes following you all the way out of sight.

As he turns to head inside, Mark bumps into Hyuck. “Don’t go in just yet,” Hyuck insists, “stay out here and vape with me for a minute.”

It’s hard for Mark to focus on anything Hyuck is saying about the afternoon rush, but he manages to nod and make sounds of affirmation while his coworker rants about some party of fifteen that walked in and only ordered appetizers.

“Mark, you’re not paying attention,” Hyuck sighs.

“Sorry, I’m just kind of-” Mark swallows the lump in his throat, “yeah, I’m distracted.”

“Got a hot date?”

“What?” Mark looks up.

“Someone wrote their digits on your hand,” Hyuck grabs at Mark’s wrist, “let’s see-”

Mark tries his best to pull away, but Hyuck’s already assessing the phone number. After a moment, the younger man lets go, his mouth forming a firm line. “I warned you about her.”

Mark’s surprised that Hyuck - who has the memory of a goldfish most days - clearly recognizes your phone number.

“I told you she’s not for beginners.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to listen to you,” Mark insists. “And not everything is about fucking. She’s gonna come over, we’re gonna watch movies- nothing has to happen. I just want to know her better.”

“Lover boy,” Hyuck scoffs, “she’s going to eat you up, and spit you back out.”

“And if she does, then that’s my choice,” Mark says firmly. “I know she fucked you over or whatever, but that doesn’t mean anything to me, Hyuck. I’m sorry, but I really don’t care about what happened between the two of you.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“If she’s as bad as you say, then you can say you told me so when this is all over. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Six

“So this is Jeno’s famous fuck pad,” you tease, stepping into Mark’s apartment and looking around.

“Uh, he doesn’t actually bring girls here that often,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “He likes to go to their place, makes it easier to run than kicking a girl out the next morning, you know?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod… you usually fuck guys in their homes for the same reason. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks, my ex had a lot to do with the decor and shit.” Now that Mark mentions it, the vibe definitely doesn’t scream ‘boy’, and it especially doesn't scream ‘home of a line chef and bartender.’

The cream-colored couch in the living room has pretty sage pillows, there’s a tasteful rug under a circular coffee table. On the table are three candles varying in size, as well as a design book that you’d bet has never been opened or looked at in detail by the men who live here.

It’s a comfortable home, but you wonder what it feels like for Mark to live in a space that constantly reminds him of an ex who ditched him for not having his own shit together.

“I didn’t realize Jeno was a tidy guy,” you note, thinking back to the line of dirty cups he always allows to build up in the bar dish area.

“He’s not, but I am.” Mark enters the living room, and he takes a seat on the couch, kicking his legs up onto a small puff stool next to the coffee table. “I guess when you work on the line, you’re used to doing little clean-up jobs to keep everything smooth. I don’t mind moving two or three beer cans to the sink every day if it means there aren’t any piles building.”

So he’s a sexy line chef, with tattoos, who likes long-term relationships, and also cleans up his home? Mark really is a catch amongst flounders.

“Are you going to come sit?” Mark asks, noting the way you stand at the edge of the room. “Or, shit, should I offer you a drink first? We’ve got beer, or I could make you a cocktail or something-”

“I’m good, just… getting used to this.”

It feels kind of odd to be with Mark in a casual setting. You’ve only ever seen him in a professional manner, with an expo station between you both- now, Mark is right in front of you, and as you sit on the couch next to him, you’re hyper-aware of the way your thighs almost touch.

“So… Netflix?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mark grabs the remote, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up so you can see his forearms.

“You still haven’t given me a full tattoo tour,” you tease, reaching out to gently trace the puppy etched against his skin.

“Maybe that’s a date number two sort of thing,” Mark suggests, tugging the fabric down to cover his skin.

Your grin widens. “Do I make you nervous, puppy boy?”

“Definitely,” he lets out a shy laugh, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob with the effort of swallowing. “So uh… what do you wanna watch?”

You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the couch. “Surprise me.”

“Well, there’s this anime I’ve been wanting to get into-” Mark finds the show in his ‘to watch’ list.

“Let's do it.”

“Really? You’re down?”

“Uh huh, I’m not that picky,” you nod, offering him a smile.

“It can be…” he starts the first episode, “like- if you wanna keep doing this sort of thing, it could be our show.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you admit. You suppose it shouldn’t be a shock that Mark is thinking long term- you do work together after all, but when you’d been seeing Hyuck, every day was a question of longevity. Would he call? Would he not call?

Hyuck never talked in definitives. He never made promises. The only true thing you could count on was seeing him at work three of five days of the week when your schedules aligned, and he never locked himself in for any more than that.

“Should I-” Mark licks his lips, “I mean, finding a show was way easier than I thought it would be. Do you want a drink? I’ve got chips?”

“I’m okay, but if you want something, you should grab it.”

“I’m good if you’re good,” Mark mutters, leaning back against the couch. Your shoulders are touching, and you’re already finding it difficult to focus on the tv screen as the anime begins to play.

You’re aware of each breath, each slight shift of Mark’s body. “Are you comfortable?” he asks after a short while.

“I mean, we could probably find a more comfortable position than this one,” you note.

“Like… do you wanna cuddle?”

“If you want to, I’d be up for that.”

“Okay, one sec,” Mark turns, grabbing at the back cushion of the couch. He tosses it to the side. “I can big spoon you.”

In under a minute, Mark is settling behind you, pillows are adjusted, and a gentle hand finds your hip. You wiggle slightly, trying to get snug against the line chef’s chest.

“Is this good?” he asks, his breath ghosting by your ear.

“It’s nice, but let me just…” you grab his hand, threading your fingers and bringing it up to your chest, so you’re truly wrapped in his embrace. You can feel his heart against your spine, and you can hear the way his breath catches. “That’s better,” you let out a sigh of relief.

The anime is fun, but you’re much too focused on Mark. Something tells you he’s quite focused on you as well, and finally, your patience snaps. You roll onto your back, looking up at him.

“You good?” he prompts.

“Uh huh. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shrug. “I guess maybe I’m just wondering what work is going to be like tomorrow.”

“Hopefully busy.”

You laugh at how innocent Mark can be. “I mean in terms of cuddling with you tonight, then working together in the morning.”

“I mean… how was it with Hyuck when you two were seeing each other?”

Your heart clenches. “Oh… he uh… he told you about that, huh?”

“Mentioned it once or twice.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“For the most part,” Mark nods. “But just so you know- I don’t take everything Hyuck says seriously. You two had something going on, but every relationship is different. I’m sure you have your own side to the story. I know you’re a good person - that’s what my heart tells me at least - so that’s what I’m going off of.”

You stare up at the line chef. The man you’d pegged as a fuck boy, who is turning out to be the farthest thing from a womanizer that you’ve ever met.

You can’t help but reach up and cup his face. There aren’t words that come to mind, but you hope your expression shows your gratitude for his kindness.

Mark’s gaze dips to your mouth, and you watch the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on his slightly. “So no pressure or anything,” he says, voice cracking, “but uh… can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me,” you confirm, staying still and waiting for the precious man to make his move. Part of you is scared to take control- you’re worried about scaring Mark off, like you’d scare off a wild bird with one wrong muscle twitch.

You’re still cupping his face, and Mark mirrors the act, gently cupping your cheek. He looks down at you, searching your eyes for a moment. You wonder if he’s looking for any hesitation, any sign that you regret your affirmative answer. Then he looks at your lips, and you can see some of the tension leave his body.

In fact, you see the exact moment Mark decides to give in to his desires. His lips part ever so slightly, his brown eyes shyly meeting your own as he begins to move in closer-

As his mouth presses to your own, you realize this might be the softest kiss a man has ever bestowed upon you. He’s not trying to shove his tongue down your throat- not biting at your lip and asking for entrance. It’s a simple brush of lips on lips, and it leaves you wanting more.

Your hand finds the back of his neck, and you drag him closer, letting out a small mewl. You capture his bottom lip between your own, suckling on it gently-

Mark pulls away, and your eyes open. You’re disappointed, but when you notice Mark breathing heavily, your annoyance dissipates.

“Was that okay?” you ask, worrying that maybe you’d been going too fast for the soft man.

“Yeah- better than okay,” he assures you.

“Can we… can you kiss me again?”

“Uh huh,” he nods, leaning back down to press his lips against your own. His hand finds your hip, and you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss is just as gentle as the first, but the passion begins to burn brighter with each passing second.

No one has ever kissed you like this.

You can’t explain it- but in a matter of moments, your attraction to Mark has grown tenfold.

When he breaks away from you for a second time, you’re both breathing heavily. You open your eyes to stare up at the pretty line chef, watching him swallow thickly.

“Should we uh… should we keep paying attention to the show?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah, we should.” You roll onto your side again, and Mark settles against your back. He tucks you closer, his fingers threading through yours.

It’s impossible to focus now, and you begin to wiggle slightly, pressing your ass back against the front of his jeans.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Mark asks, letting go of your hand to grab your hip, steadying you.

“I’m fine- I’m just…” - unbelievably horny - “you’re a good kisser.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Thanks. I liked kissing you too.”

“So…” you look over your shoulder at him, “wanna kiss me again?”

Mark grins, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

As with the first two times, Mark pulls away much too fast for your liking.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never experienced a situation like this. Mark is being respectful- he’s keeping his hands in PG locations, and the kisses have involved zero tongue- does he not like you as much as you like him?

How much do you like this line chef?

Do you like him because he’s not completely fawning over you like you’re used to?

What is going on?!

“I just want you to know,” Mark says, “it sounds like you’re used to fuck boys and shit, and I uh- well, I’m not like them. There’s no pressure to get naked or anything today-” his voice hitches, “in fact, Jeno will be home soonish so it’s better if we don’t-”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

Mark tenses behind you. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If we move to your room, Jeno won’t walk in on us.”

“It’s not about that,” Mark assures you. “Look, I want to take my time with you. This is our first date. I want things to feel right. I want to do this right. Can you understand that?”

You think maybe you’re too horny to want to understand it.

You want to tear Mark’s clothes off. You want to push him down and ride him until he’s gasping your name and filling you with his cum. You want to feel him still dripping out of you when you go into work tomorrow morning-

No one has ever made you wait. You’re much too impatient for playing around- and your past lovers have been the same way.

Even so, you respect the boundary Mark has just expressed. “No fucking tonight,” you agree, “I get that. It’s for the better.”

However, it’s not for the better of your throbbing pussy.

Seven

God, Mark can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s been two hours since you arrived on shift, and Mark has been distracted for all of it.

You look adorable today. Your black outfit hugs your body just right, and Mark’s mind is consistently wandering to last night, when his hands had traced your hips before lacing your fingers-

When you speak, he finds his focus shifting to your lips- those pretty lips he’d kissed. The lips that had left him wanting more- the lips he’d thought about for hours after you’d gone home. He’d dreamt of kissing you, but it had fallen quite short to the real thing.

You’d sounded hurt when Mark had said you shouldn’t fuck last night, and part of Mark regrets drawing the line in the sand. But on the other hand, Mark had meant it when he said it wasn’t the right time.

He doesn’t want to bed you after watching a few episodes of anime. You deserve so much more than that.

Besides, if he had fucked you last night, Mark might have needed to take a sick day just to calm down. Even now, knowing he’s tasted your lips has his skin heating every time he looks at you.

God, you’ve got him practically bewitched.

As the lunch rush comes to an end, Mark finds time to go outside and vape. He watches the cars pass while he puffs on his device, closing his eyes and imagining your lips.

As his little break is coming to an end, the door hinges squeak behind him, and Mark turns to find you standing there.

“Oh, hi,” you grin.

“Hey.” He looks you up and down. “You leaving?”

“Doyoung cut me again, it’s been slow this week,” you nod.

Mark swallows thickly. He can’t help the way his gaze dips to your lips again.

You step forward, smiling. “You wanna kiss me again, don’t cha, Mark?”

He doesn’t even bother responding. He slips his vape into his pocket, grabbing your hips to tug you closer. As he brings his mouth down to yours, he pauses for a second, meeting your gaze. If you want to pull away, he gives you ample time, but instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, closing the distance between your lips.

You take more control today than last night. You lick at his lower lip, not doing too much tongue, but providing just enough that it has Mark’s skin tingling with need. His fingers dig against your hips, pulling you tighter.

The kiss deepens, and Mark’s entire heart lurches in his chest when you let out a pleased mewling sound.

Fuck, he loves your sounds already- you sound so fucking pretty-

“Jesus.” Head Chef John’s voice makes Mark practically jump, and he tears his lips away from your own, eyes immediately finding his boss, who’s standing by the exit door. “Damn, newbie, you work fast, don’t you?”

Mark’s skin feels like it’s on fire, and he’s quick to let go of your hips, stepping away and running an awkward hand through his hair, “Chef-”

“Don’t tease him, Johnny,” you sigh. “You nearly gave Mark a heart attack sneaking up on us like that.”

“I’m shocked neither of you heard the door.”

“We were busy!” you insist, raising your voice in jest at the head chef.

Mark is shocked at the way you talk so easily with his boss. But he supposes you’ve been at the restaurant for over a year- maybe you’re closer with the tall head chef than Mark realized.

“Look, I’ll say what I said when Hyuck was trying to get with you, sunshine,” Johnny grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a jacked-up vape pen. “As long as you use protection we’re good, I can’t have my line chefs becoming fathers and taking time off.”

“And I’ll say what I said last time you told me to wrap it: never gonna happen.”

“IUD’s aren’t a hundred percent viable,” Johnny points out, making Mark nearly choke on air.

“Mine has been so far, so stick it old man.” You turn to Mark, “Don’t mind him, he’s protective.”

“I was protective with Hyuck, because he’s a douchebag, but Mark seems okay,” Johnny laughs.

“Thanks?” Mark can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Listen, I’ll text you okay?” You grab the front of Mark’s apron, pulling him in so you can press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Have a good rest of your shift.”

Mark watches you dart off. He’s tongue-tied, skin still flaring, heart racing in his chest.

“She’s a good one,” Johnny muses. “Best expo girl we have. Don’t fuck it up, Mark, I’ll fire you before we get rid of her.”

“Trust me,” Mark coughs, “I wasn’t planning on fucking things up any time soon.”

Eight

In the year you’ve had your solo apartment, you’ve not had any guys over. Your MO is to go to the man’s place so you can dip out whenever you get anxious or tired. Inviting a man over to your safe space woman sanctuary is new. The nervousness is manifesting physically; you’re fussing over the overswept floor and the frill on your couch blanket when Mark texts you that he’s arrived.

With one final breath, you head down to the lobby to let Mark in.

He’s in blue jeans and a black hoodie that sets off the blonde tone of his hair. You’ve been meaning to ask him about who does his bleach out, but you know men can be touchy about their physical appearance and certain body modifications, so you’ve been holding yourself back.

He looks good. That’s all that really matters.

“Hey,” Mark grins as you open the door, pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, yourself,” you smile back, pulling away from the embrace to lead Mark to the elevator. You can hear the line chef following you, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about your building.

“It’s a nice place,” Mark notes, as if he can read your mind. “New build?”

“I think it’s been here like three or four years? I moved in last winter.”

“Right,” he nods, coming to a stop next to you as you hit the button to call the elevator.

You can feel him staring at you, and it’s making you even more nervous. “What?” you ask, letting out a short laugh.

“Nothing, you just uh… you look cute.”

“I’m literally in PJ’s.” Your gaze dips to your simple fuzzy purple shorts, and the tank top you’re wearing.

“But they’re nice. I’ve only ever seen you in work outfits, and when you came over last time you were in jeans. You look cute dressed down like this.”

You’d been worried about being so casual with Mark- dressing for comfort instead of the need to impress, but it seems you’ve succeeded in both comfortability and making a good impression.

“Thank you,” you smile, your insides practically glowing from the compliment. No other man has seen you this way and called you cute- it’s one of the reasons you usually dip out from a man after sex. There’s no comfort or getting comfortable- your other relationships have always been rigid, a push pull and need to be perfect at all times in order to be deserving of attention.

You make it up to your floor, and another wave of anxiety washes over you as you let Mark into your small apartment. “It’s not much,” you sigh, “but it’s home.”

Mark slips off his sneakers by your door, looking around. “No, I like it,” he assures you. “No roommates kicking around- I bet living alone is pretty relaxing.”

“It can be, but it’s also lonely at times,” you admit.

“Well, if you get lonely here, you can always call me and I can come entertain you.”

Mark’s words give an air of longevity. He sounds certain about this, as if it’s a given that he’s part of your life now, as if he’s not going anywhere.

You’re not sure what to make of Mark. You’ve never really had steady consistency from a man- but he seems so sincere, it makes you want to be hopeful, and hope can be a dangerous thing for a girl like you.

“So uh… can I get you something to drink?” you ask. “We’re just watching anime right?”

“I’m good. If I get thirsty, I’ll let you know,” Mark assures you, taking a seat on the couch in your living room. “Should we uh… should I move some of these pillows so we can cuddle again?”

You grin, pouring yourself a cup of water. “If you want to cuddle, we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle,” Mark states, immediately grabbing at the cushions and rearranging your space to allow for you both to lie down.

He’s adorable. Laying down in front of him already feels kind of natural. The way he grabs your hip and tugs you close to his chest has your heart singing, and his breath against the back of your neck is as familiar as anything.

Not much needs to be said as you start your anime. You’re simply enjoying the comfortability of companionship- companionship lacking any pressures or timeframes. You’re two souls sharing your moments together.

It’s a different feeling for your mind to go blank while you’re with Mark. You’re shocked by how safe you feel in his embrace.

You talk here and there, the two of you discussing moments in the anime, but conversation doesn’t get much deeper than that. You actually kind of enjoy not having to use your brain, and you’re definitely enjoying the warmth of the man behind you.

“I’m uh, gonna take my hoodie off,” Mark tells you, shifting slightly.

“Okay.” You give him space, turning to look over your shoulder as he lifts the fabric off his body, revealing the white tshirt below. “Wait, can you give me a deeper tattoo tour now?”

“Uh…”

“You said you’d give me a proper tour on the second date,” you tease, hooking your finger in the neck of his shirt and gently pulling, giving yourself a tiny peak of marked skin along his collarbones.

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Mark laughs sheepishly. “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, sitting up again and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

As Mark reveals his chest to you, you’re a little taken aback by what you see.

Generally, you’re pretty good at guessing a man’s build under his clothing, but Mark is much more toned than you thought he would be. It’s clear he works out, and the muscles you see are amplified by tasteful placement of tattoos littering his torso.

“Where do I even start?” Mark asks, looking down at himself.

“Wherever you want to.” You turn to face him, anime forgotten in the background.

He brushes his own fingers across one of the ferns decorating his collarbones. “These are my mom’s favourite plant.”

“Her favourite plant?” you grin.

“Yeah, I know, most moms have a favourite flower, but my mom kind of really likes ferns.”

“Sounds like you’re close with her,” you note.

“I’m a complete mama’s boy,” Mark admits with a laugh, which is when your gaze lands on a heart with the word ‘Mom’ tattooed on his ribs.

“I see that.” You reach out and gently brush the mark.

The line chef shivers under your touch, the muscles in his abdomen jumping deliciously. You wonder how ticklish he is.

“Then this one,” Mark touches the moth blooming out from his sternum, “was just really cool and the artist needed someone to practice on, so I said, let’s do it, fuck me up.”

You grin at his choice of words. Mark can be kind of reserved at work, it’s interesting to hear his dirty mouth now that you’re alone.

You kind of love listening to him as he continues with the tour, tracing the lined patch work. Each mark is another story or detail about the line chef you’re starting to fall for, and you commit his words to memory.

He’s done the tour of his tattoos much too fast for your liking. You trace the last of the marks, a dagger on his bicep.

Laying on your back with Mark on his side next to you, things feel very intimate, especially now that his focus has shifted away from his tattoos and is solidly fixed on you.

His hand finds your abdomen, and he gently lines the curve of your hip with his fingers.

Neither of you say anything, caught in the peaceful quiet and moments of mutual discovery.

His fingers brush by your rib cage, and you’re struck by the need for more. Gently placing your hand over his, you prompt him up higher, until his palm is placed over your breast. You sneak a glance at Mark, noticing the way he swallows thickly.

“Are you a boobs man, Mark?”

“I mean… who isn’t?”

You grin at his answer. “Should I take my shirt off? It’s only fair, right? Yours is off.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assures you.

“I want to take my shirt off.”

“Then take your shirt off,” he says quietly.

You sit up, quickly discarding the fabric before laying back down again. Now you’re just in a bra and PJ shorts. Mark sucks in a breath, his hand finding your bare hip. Once again, you have to guide his touch up to your breast. This time, when he squeezes you, his thumb rubs over the swell of plump flesh.

You can feel your nipple hardening with interest, pressing against the cup of your bra. “We should take this off next,” you suggest, grabbing at your strap.

“Yeah?” Mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you, his lips parting as he breathes heavier.

“I mean, unless you want me to keep it on?”

“Like I said,” the line chef brushes his thumb over your skin again, “do whatever makes you most comfortable.”

You sit up again, reaching behind your back to undo the clasp. For a moment, you pause. This is a line you won't be able to uncross. You’re about to show your coworker your boobs. Your sweet, honest, adorable, line chef coworker, who gazes at you with stars in his eyes- your fuck boy look alike secret softie-

You undo your bra, throwing it off the couch before laying flat again. This time, you don’t have to prompt Mark’s hand, he gently traces his fingers up your ribs until he’s cupping your breast. He watches you tentatively, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Mark says, firmly this time.

“Come here,” you reach up to cup the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours. He kisses you like he’s afraid you might break, but when you whimper, he responds with a groan, deepening the passion as his tongue glides against your own.

His hand kneads your breast, making you moan again, pushing up toward his palm. You can feel the desire growing between your legs as he kisses you, and you reach out to trace his chest. Your touch begins to lower, fingers grazing over his abdomen-

Mark breaks the kiss, nuzzling against your jaw to prompt your face to the side so he can access your throat. He peppers your skin in soft kisses, slowly descending until he reaches your collar bones-

You realize what he’s about to do and tangle your fingers through his soft blonde hair, pushing your chest up in silent affirmation. “Mark-” you whimper, rewarded when his wet lips wrap around your nipple.

Fuck, he feels so good-

Has anyone ever felt this good?

Maybe it’s the waiting- the going slow, or maybe it’s just the fact that Mark makes you feel safe, but regardless, each touch, each brush of his lips and tongue, has you mewling. You’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, your pussy practically throbbing with each flick of his wet muscle against your pebbled nipple.

“Mark?” you whisper, tightening your grip in his hair. “Are you…” you swallow thickly. “Are you going to fuck me?”

The line chef pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with dark chocolate eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do-”

“What if I want this?”

“I usually don’t sleep with girls on the second date-”

“Make an exception?” you plead.

You haven’t been fucked in a few weeks, and you’re feeling desperate. You want to connect with Mark on that physical level, and sex is always the way you do that with men. You want him to feel good, to give him a reason to stick around like he says he will.

“But wait-” you feel your skin heat, “I have something I should tell you first.”

Mark cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“I uh… I’m going to be super real with you right now.” You take a deep breath. “Look, I read a lot of smut? That’s like- I read a lot of erotica, written porn, I guess- and, in smut, and porn especially, girls always just cum so easily- and I wish I was that type of person, but I’m not. No guy has ever… you know, gotten me there. What I’m trying to say is, I can have fun even without cumming. So if I can’t get there with you, it’s not you, it’s literally me-”

“Hey,” Mark reaches up to cup your cheek, cutting off your rambling. “Thanks for telling me, but there’s no pressure. Whatever happens, happens. For some girls, you have to get more comfortable. My first girlfriend was like that too, and there’s never any judgement from me. I’m willing to wait for you to feel safe enough that your body relaxes.”

“You are?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you. “I mean, I can’t promise that I’ll be as good as the guys in your books or in porn. Dirty talk is something I have to get used to using too, but, if we give it time, I’m sure we’ll figure each other out.”

You search his eyes, processing what he’s just said. Then you give him a small nod. “That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. “But, if we’re going to do this, I’d like for us to go to your bedroom, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” You sit up, getting off the couch quickly while Mark follows. As you get to the door of your bedroom, you look over your shoulder, snaking your fingers into your shorts and pulling them down.

“Fuck-” Mark groans, eyes taking in your body.

You can see a half chub pressing against the denim of his blue jeans, and your pussy throbs again. “Come on, puppy boy,” you tease.

He’s quick to catch you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest to your back. His lips find your neck and you giggle, moving toward your bed while dragging the line chef with you.

“You’re so pretty,” Mark groans, tracing your curves with one hand while the other reaches to grab your breast.

Turning in his arms, you press your lips to his, enjoying the way each kiss gets deeper. He’s relaxing against you, his tongue exploring you more and more.

When you make it to the bed, he gently prompts you to sit down. You look up at Mark, watching him take in your form. “How did I get this lucky?” he asks.

“You asked me out,” you remind him. “So you did this all yourself, Mark.”

“Did I?” he grins, sinking to the floor.

You’re surprised by the new position, surprised by the way he gently parts your knees, his gaze finding your hot core.

“Can I take these off?” he questions, gently tugging at your panties.

“Yeah-” you whisper.

Most guys don’t eat you out as an appetizer. In fact, you have to ask most men to go down on you- but here’s Mark, doing it all of his own accord. And he looks so needy- in the best possible way.

Mark slips your panties down your legs, and then his lips find your calf. He begins kissing up your skin, spreading your thighs to accommodate him.

“You don’t have to-” Your words are lost when he presses a kiss to your clit.

“Don’t have to what?” Mark asks, looking up at you.

“Don’t have to eat me out-”

“I want to eat you out,” he confirms. “I’ll eat you out for as long as you want me to- but, when you need more, just say something, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Mark hums, immediately pressing his mouth against your core again. He licks a wet stripe of your pussy, and it makes your legs twitch on his shoulders.

You relax against the mattress, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of Mark pleasuring you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him where you need him. He focuses on your clit, circling it and toying with it.

It feels amazing- it does, but there’s some sort of mental block in your brain. You wish you could just cum from this, but the more you think about that, the more you distract yourself from Mark. God, you almost feel bad making him eat you out like this- he’s not getting anything-

The overthinking is something you’re used to, and try as you might to talk yourself down from the ledge of sexual issues, you can’t relax. You can’t focus on Mark, and it frustrates you to no end.

Finally, after what feels like hours of him eating you out - although it must only be a few minutes - you gently tug his hair. “Want your cock now,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” Mark wipes his hand across his mouth, looking up at you with pupils blown from lust.

“Please,” you nod.

“Should I uh- should I grab a condom?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “We’re both clean right?”

“Yeah-”

“I have an IUD, remember? I want you to cum inside of me.”

Mark draws in a shaky breath. You watch him swallow thickly, then he stands up, undoing his blue jeans. When he pushes down his pants, he moves his underwear too, and just like that, your favourite line chef is standing naked in front of you.

He’s got a pretty cock. It’s girthy, cut, and must be around seven or so inches. The tip is curved slightly to his left, and it’s leaking precum even though you’ve hardly touched him.

Did Mark really get that turned on just from eating you out?

“Come here,” you offer him a small smile, shifting up your bed until your head reaches the pillows. You open your arms for Mark, watching him press a knee onto the mattress and approach you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you drag him into a kiss.

The kiss is passionate, but there’s a tentative energy to it as Mark’s cock presses between your pussy lips, collecting the juice and saliva that’s congregated there.

“Are you sure about this?” Mark asks, panting against your mouth.

You open your eyes to look up at him, nodding.

“I uh… I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes, Mark, I’m sure about this,” you say, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Please, I want you.”

He searches your eyes, then, with a final nod, he kisses you again. One of his hands slides between your bodies, and you feel him line his cock up with your core. Your legs tighten around his hips, and it’s something like a united effort when his length sinks into your pussy.

You both groan against each other’s lips. The kissing stops, but you remain close enough that your noses are touching. His breath is hot against your skin, and he begins to fuck you slowly, his cock filling you perfectly.

“You feel so good,” Mark groans.

All you can do is moan in response, drawing his lips back to yours while he fucks you.

You get lost in the feeling of him, and the kissing does aid in calming down your tumultuous thoughts. You can focus on the pleasure that thrums through you with each thrust, the way his cock glides against your inner walls and stretches you out.

Mark grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing you against the bed, his hips working faster. His tongue is eager against your own, and he eats up your soft whimpers. His groans and grunts of effort make your soul sing, your heart beating quickly in your breast.

“Shit,” Mark pulls away from the kiss, looking down at you. “It’s been a minute since I’ve- since I’ve slept with anyone,” he admits. “I’m uh… pretty close.”

“Want you to cum,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Please- want you to fill me up-”

Mark groans, pressing his lips against your own. You kiss him desperately, tightening your legs around his hips. He squeezes your hand, his groans muffled by your mouth.

His hips work faster and faster- then, all at once, he kind of just stops. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and his grip on your hand is tight as he coats your insides with his cum.

You hold him through his high, your free hand petting his hair while he brings his lips to your neck, panting desperately and kissing your skin.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he finishes. Mark pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but it’s clear that he’s not able to find the right words. “I, uh…” he licks his lips. “Should I grab you a tissue or something?”

“Yes, please,” you laugh, letting go of him so he can get off the bed. You watch him look around your room, finding your tissues on the nightstand.

His legs are as covered in patchwork tattoos as the rest of him, and you’re pleased that the tour will continue another day. He hands you the tissue. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

“You can go for it, I just need a second,” you tell him.

Mark nods, pressing one last kiss to your lips before he leaves your bedroom.

You lay there in bed, holding the tissue between your legs to capture any of the cum beginning to leak out of you.

You’re glad Mark got to cum. You’re not surprised you hadn’t. You just hope maybe one day you will get there, and for some reason, you have a hunch Mark will be the one to achieve an orgasm for you. Or at least, you hope he will.

Nine

“So did you do it?”

“Hmm?” Mark looks up from the chicken he’s cutting.

“You had your second date with Sunshine last night, right?” Hyuck presses. “So…. did you do it? Did you make her cum, or what?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Mark sighs, looking at the other side of the kitchen where John is working. “We shouldn’t be talking about this here.”

“Nah, this is the perfect place to talk about it,” Hyuck leans against the work station, his back to the head chef. “So I’m guessing you didn’t make her cum.”

“Is that all you were thinking about every time you fucked her?” Mark asks.

“Duh.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s the kind of mentality that would make a girl overthink the situation?” Mark shakes his head. “I bet you would watch her super intently and then just ask her to cum.”

“That’s a move, Mark, it’s called having rizz.”

“But it never worked, so was it really rizz, or were you just fucking yourself over?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes. “So now you’re the expert on making girls cum?”

Over Hyuck’s shoulder, John stops what he’s doing and turns to stare at the line chefs. Mark can feel his skin heating, and he opens his mouth to rectify the situation, but Hyuck’s already speaking again.

“I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t be able to make her cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m not betting money on this shit,” Mark hisses.

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

“A pussy with a knife in his hand,” the line chef notes, his grip tightening on the handle. “Look, when I do make her cum, you have to stop bashing her like it’s her fault that you wouldn’t take the time to make her comfortable.”

“And when you don’t make her cum?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Mark’s not sure where his confidence is coming from, but something in his heart tells him to be firm about this. He’s going to get you there. It might take a few weeks, hell, it might take over a month- but he’s going to get you to the point where you relax enough to cum for him, or so help him God-

Ten

Mark had cum inside of you three times since arriving at seven, and at two am he had finally broached the idea of heading home. “I should probably go,” the line chef had sighed, holding you closer to his chest.

“I mean… you could always just stay over?” you’d suggested.

“Yeah?”

“It’s our third date, why not?” you’d shrugged, cuddling tighter against him.

You hadn’t planned this, it had just sort of happened, and that’s how Mark had ended up sleeping at your place for the first time.

He’d woken up half way through the night, voice raspy, hands grabby, moaning about how lucky he was to be here with you. Falling asleep again after he’d railed you had been as easy as breathing, and now, in the morning hours, you’re in the shower to wash off all the cum he’d left on and inside of you.

Neither of you have to be at work till the afternoon, and you kind of like the idea of lazing around with Mark, who’s still passed out in your bed.

You take your time with your skin care and hair, and when you finally enter your room, you’re intrigued to find the line chef still asleep. He’s quite handsome like this, all bundled up in your white duvet, blonde hair shining around him like a halo.

You try to be careful as you crawl onto the mattress next to him, but Mark immediately rolls over to pull you tight to his chest. He lets out a soft groan, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

God, why are things so domestic with this boy already?

His hands trail up and down your back, fingers stroking your skin. You’d put on his shirt, but other than that, you’re naked, and it doesn’t take long for Mark to realize that fact. His touch moves down to your hip, sliding under the shirt. His thumb draws circles against your bare skin, and he lets out another moan.

“Morning, puppy boy,” you laugh.

“Hungry,” Mark whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he leans down, pressing kisses to your throat, his lips brushing by your ear when he repeats himself; “Hungry.”

“I can make you breakfast,” you assure him.

“Don’t want food,” Mark says. “Want you.”

In one quick motion he pushes you onto your back, getting on top of you. His breath is hot against your neck, and he tugs on your shirt, pulling it up to reveal your breasts. His mouth wraps around your nipple, and he sucks on it gently, releasing sounds of pleasure.

You thread your fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of relief. “Feels good,” you tell him.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his digits teasing your slit. “Always so wet for me,” he groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Can I taste?”

Mark is definitely getting more bold with you, but that’s what happens when you’ve fucked a handful of times, had three dates, and one sleep over.

“You can do anything you want to me,” you tell him.

The line chef kisses down your abdomen, pushing your legs open as he settles between them. You thread your fingers through his hair as he brings his mouth to your core, licking at your pussy lips.

Mark is really good at oral. This is the fourth time he’s eaten you out. With each time he presses his mouth to your pussy, part of you gets more and more convinced that you’ll cum this way. When he adds two fingers into your aching core, you’re pretty much sure that it will happen-

It feels so good, and the moans that escape you reflect that. Your hips buck toward his face, prompting Mark to press a palm to your lower abdomen, keeping you pinned.

But every time you think you’re close - every time you’re about to announce it to him - the feeling dissipates.

You can feel yourself getting more and more irritated with your body, and soon, you give up entirely. “Mark?”

“Hmm?” The vibrations against your clit have your thighs shaking.

“Can I just- can we just fuck? Please? I want you inside of me.”

Mark pulls away from your pussy, his fingers continuing in your hole. “Are you sure? You know I enjoy playing with you like this.”

“I know- but, I just- I’m in my head again. Want your cock in my pussy.”

Mark takes his fingers out of your core, bringing them to his lips to lick clean. Then he crawls up your body, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’ll fuck you,” he says, “but don’t ever think I don’t enjoy being between your thighs like that, okay? You don’t have to cum, I know from the sounds that you make that you enjoy it, and that’s enough for me until you get there, yeah?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “I’m still in my head.”

“I get that, Sunshine,” he kisses you gently, cupping your cheek as he lines his cock up with your wet hole. “If there’s anything I can do to stop the overthinking-”

“Just fuck me,” you insist, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Mark laughs. “You got it.”

Eleven

“Dude, is that a hickey on your neck?” Hyuck’s annoying voice makes Mark flinch, and his hand immediately flies to slap against the side of his throat.

“What? No.”

“It totally is,” Hyuck laughs. “Damn, you two must really be going at it a lot.”

“We’re having fun.”

“Fun like two times? Three?”

“Fun like five times in the past twenty four hours.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hyuck’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t know what you were talking about with her not being able to sleep next to you. She passed out just fine with me last night.”

Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Fucking Hell. Maybe I underestimated you. So… did she cum?”

Mark sighs. He hates to be talking about this while at work. You’re running food, but you could be back at any second, and Mark doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea about all of this. Hyuck is the instigator of these sexual talks, and Mark doesn’t know how much to keep to himself.

“So that’s a no,” Hyuck deduces. “Big ouch.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” Mark says finally.

“Why? Is your pride hurt?”

Mark lets out another annoyed breath. “I just think it’s disrespectful. You’re an ex fling of hers, you don’t deserve to know everything about her personal life.”

“I don't want to know about her personal life,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “I want to know about her sex life, there’s a difference.”

“I’m done talking to you about this,” Mark insists.

“Damn, someone is starting to sound like a protective boyfriend. Jeeze, calm down.”

Mark hates that there’s some truth in what Hyuck is saying. He already feels quite protective of you. He’s got dates planned, things that can make you smile. He pays close attention to you when you speak, looking for your likes and dislikes.

Mark is falling for you faster than he’d ever care to admit, especially not to Hyuck of all people.

Twelve

“Who does a staff Christmas party in January?” Jungwoo asks as a bunch of you take the big table after the restaurant has closed.

“We were all too busy at Chirstmas time, remember?” Jaehyun says, looking at his waiter friend. “And then there was New Years, and we closed early.”

“I agree with you Woo, a mid January Christmas party feels weird,” you grin, leaning against your favourite server.

In all honesty, it feels like your managers Taeil and Doyoung just wanted to give you all some time to relax and celebrate. January can be a slow month in the restaurant business, and you’d heard Jeno mention yesterday that there are four or five bottles of wine that no one has been ordering that have to be used up.

As you begin to drink the wine, the mid January Christmas party makes more and more sense. The chefs have finished their closing tasks, with John joining you first, followed by Hyuck, and finally Mark.

With Jaehyun across from you, Jungwoo on one side, and John on the other, you’re surrounded. Mark sits at the other end of the table, offering you a small smile. You give him a gentle wave in response, giggling to yourself over the rim of your wine glass.

“Gosh, Sunshine,” Jungwoo slides closer to you. “Are you drunk already?”

“You’ve been refilling my glass,” you point out, pouting a little.

“Because you’re a cute drunk,” he grins.

“A very cute drunk,” Jaehyun agrees, eyeing you from across the table.

The thing about dating a coworker and it being new means you can’t talk about it. Until there’s a label with you and Mark, you’re keeping your lips shut. As far as Jungwoo or Jaehyun know, you’re single, and the latter of the two has been hitting on you for months.

It feels odd to have Jaehyun calling you cute while Mark is just a few seats down. Your stomach twists into drunken knots, and you wish you could move to be closer to your new secret Boo-

In the periphery of your vision, you note Mark stand up and begin to head to the bar. It feels like the perfect excuse to get some time alone with him, so you hop off of your chair.

Mark’s grabbed a glass and is beginning to pour himself a beer from the tap by the time you reach him. “Hi, puppy boy,” you grin.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he laughs, looking you up and down. “Jungwoo’s been feeding you the wine, huh?”

“Just like… a normal amount.” God, you can’t help but smile constantly at the boy who has your heart twisting into love sick knots.

“Are you tipsy?” Mark cocks his head to the side as he finishes pouring his drink.

“Maybe…”

“Can I get you some water?” he suggests.

You lean forward over the bar top, lowering your voice so only Mark can hear you. “I’m thirsty, but not for water or wine.”

It takes Mark a moment to read the innuendo of your words, but then he laughs. “I should get you some water.”

“What if I don’t drink it?”

“What if I ask you to please drink it?” he counters, already filling a cup for you.

“Okay, fine. Just for you, though.”

Mark grins as he hands you the glass.

“Why do you take care of me so much?” you ask, as the two of you head back to the table.

“Because,” Mark pulls your chair out for you, “you’re my favourite expo girl.”

“I better be,” you say, teasingly narrowing your eyes at Mark before he walks back to his own seat down the long table.

You begin to nurse your water. Mark’s right about you needing it. The tipsyness has somehow intensified- probably because Jungwoo had insisted you finish your wine glass. You feel blurry as you sit there and listen to your coworkers chat.

“I just don’t like saying chicken breast,” Jungwoo states.

“But that’s what they are!” Yuta, one of the night line chefs, insists. “They’re breasts!”

“I just tell customers that the alfredo comes with chicken, they don’t need to hear me say breast!” Jungwoo fights back. “Jaehyun agrees with me, right Jae?”

“Yeah, I just say chicken,” the man across from you nods.

“Taeyong also just says chicken,” Jungwoo continues. “So right now it’s three to one.”

“Hyuck,” Yuta calls across the table, gaining the attention of the men at the other end. “Do you call it chicken breast, or just chicken?”

“Neither,” Hyuck says confidently. “Thems some chicken boobies.”

You can’t believe the conversation you’re hearing. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” you decide.

“What? Why?” Jungwoo whines.

“I can’t be here for a discussion about chicken.”

Jungwoo slams his hand on the table. “See, she said just chicken too!”

Yuta points his finger at you like you’re on a game show. “Is that your final answer?”

You lean forward, pretending his hand is a microphone. “Chicken titties.”

“Yeah, we’re cutting you off,” Jungwoo decides. “You need to go home and sleep.”

“Someone should make sure you get back to your place okay,” Jaehyun notes, standing from his chair.

“I’ll take care of her,” comes Mark’s voice from the other end of the table.

Jaehyun turns to stare at the line chef, who also stands up.

John is next to you, and you watch a knowing expression appear on his features, grinning as he sips his beer.

“You still have half your drink left,” Jaehyun insists, “And, I’ve known our little miss Sunshine for much longer than you have. I’m sure she’s probably more comfortable with me taking her home.”

A muscle in Mark’s jaw feathers. You watch him reach down and grab his beer, downing the whole thing in three large gulps before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Fuck, the motion reminds you of what he does whenever he eats you out, and you feel almost dizzy thinking about it.

“Who’s it gonna be, Sunshine?” Hyuck grins. “Jaehyun, or Marky boy?”

“Let’s go, Mark,” you say, offering Jaehyun a small smile. “We’ll see all you guys tomorrow.”

Jaehyun looks pretty defeated, but you can’t even bring yourself to care as Mark comes around the table to offer you his arm. At first, you think you don’t his help, but when you stumble after one step, you latch onto his bicep.

“I was hoping you’d go home with me tonight,” you whisper as the two of you exit to the parking lot, where Mark’s truck is waiting. He helps you climb inside, smiling and shaking his head.

“Sunshine, if you ever want me to go home with you, you don’t have to get drunk, just ask.”

Thirteen

“I’m really not that drunk,” you insist, making your way over to the liquor cabinet again.

Mark sighs. You’re a grown adult, he can’t keep directing you away from the booze. “Okay, I believe you. What do you want? Let me make it for you.”

“I want…” you think about it for a moment. “An espresso martini.”

“It’s late, won’t the espresso make it hard for you to sleep?” You’re definitely drunk and you both know it.

“I don’t care. Want espresso martini.”

“Okay, Sunshine, you got it.” Mark moves through your kitchen, finding the espresso machine there. He slips a pod into the device, setting up a cup.

“Can you add honey?” you ask, already moving to the cabinet to grab a bottle. Mark takes it from you, squeezing some of the honey into the bottom of the cup as hot coffee begins to pour over it. “I also want Baileys.”

Mark laughs a little, shaking his head as you stumble to grab the large Irish Cream bottle from your cupboard.

“And also ice,” you declare. “Frothed.”

“This is a whole thing, huh?” Mark watches you fill the frother with Baileys.

“I like what I like,” you insist. “We’re gonna triple froth this.”

“You’re the boss.” Mark reaches into his pocket, pulling out his vape. You’ve been letting him smoke in here, and he appreciates the reprieve as the two of you make this very complicated espresso martini.

By the time you’re done with it, Mark’s not even sure you could call it an espresso martini. With the amount of frothed foam on top, this drink is something else entirely.

He watches you lift the cup to your lips, immediately getting foam on your face. You simply giggle and wipe it off, licking your finger clean. Then you dip your digit into the froth, scooping it up and popping it in your mouth.

Mark swallows thickly while watching you do this.

“Puppy,” you groan, “this is so good.” You offer him your finger. “Try it.”

Mark can’t say no to you, so he allows you to dip your finger into his mouth. He licks you clean, watching the way your breath catches. You bite on your bottom lip, swaying a little on your feet.

“Your turn,” you say quietly, holding out the cup.

“My turn?”

“I wanna suck on your fingers.”

Mark knows you're drunk. He knows this probably isn’t the best idea for either of you, but he simply can’t say no to you. Not now, not ever.

He dips his pointer into the foam, then presents it to you.

You grab his wrist, keeping him still while you move forward to suck on his finger, releasing a small groan. Mark can already feel the blood rushing to his cock, but he ignores it as he goes for another scoop of froth.

“Tastes better on you,” you tell him, licking his digit clean again. “More. Please.”

The way you look at him each time you suck his finger tells Mark that you’re as horny as he is. When he scoops with two digits, you practically mewl as you lick.

“I wanna suck on something bigger,” you state.

“Sunshine,” Mark sighs, “I really don’t want to take advantage-”

“You’re not. Mark, you’ve eaten me out so many times, please let me return the favour?” You’re already sinking to your knees on the kitchen floor, and the sight of you makes Mark’s cock throb in his jeans. “Please, I just wanna suck you off.”

“You know I can never say no to you.”

As the words leave him your hands find his belt. In moments, you’re pushing his pants down, your grip wrapping around the base of his cock. He watches you lick your lips, your gaze meeting his as you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

Mark immediately lets out a groan. “You feel so good, sunshine.”

You whimper around his length, and the vibration has Mark’s fingers twitching. He reaches for your head, cupping your face while you suck him off. His other hand places your drink on the kitchen counter before falling to his side. The line chef’s head falls back, his eyes closing as he eats up the feeling of you.

“That’s it,” he sighs, loving the way you twirl your tongue around his shaft.

You take as much of him past your lips as possible, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, causing Mark’s eyes to fly open. He looks down at you with concern, but you keep sucking him.

“You don’t have to deep throat me,” Mark assures you, pushing some hair away from your face.

You let out a whine, sinking onto him again, only for your throat to constrict tight around his tip.

Mark groans. “Fuck, Sunshine, I’m serious.”

The line chef could never do what you’re doing right now. Not because he’s not into cock, but because he has the worst gag reflex ever. He knows what it’s like to choke, and he doesn’t want you sputtering on his cock in the name of pleasuring him.

When you try to deep throat him a third time, Mark simply pulls you off of him. He’s struck by the view of a string of saliva keeping you connected to his cock, and the way you look up at him in a confused daze has his heart thundering in his chest.

“Enough of that,” Mark says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

He reaches down, gently taking your hands so he can help you to your feet.

“Bedroom?” he suggests.

You nod, swallowing thickly and wiping at your mouth, then you dart off. You’re awfully agile for a drunk girl, and Mark smiles to himself before following you. By the time he’s made it to the bedroom, you’ve already stripped.

You’re sitting on the bed, grinning at him with a hint of mischief in your eye.

“Take advantage of me, Mark,” you say as he pulls off his shirt.

“Jesus,” Mark whispers. “I hate to say it, but that line is not enticing at all.”

He’s still kind of questioning if this is a good idea, but at the same time, you’ve already fucked on multiple occasions. He knows you want him sober, and especially - it appears - while drunk.

“Come on, please?” You pout out your lower lip.

Mark slips out of his jeans, joining you on the bed. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircle his hips.

As his cock slips past your core, Mark is shocked at how wet you already are. Booze has really done a number on you, but neither of you are complaining.

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

“Don’t make me beg,” you laugh, “Cuz I will.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “Just checking.”

Before he can reach for his cock, you beat him to it, grabbing the base and lining his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck me, Mark, I’m begging for it.”

He presses his lips hard against your own as he pushes into your wet hole, both of you groaning loudly at the feeling.

“Shit,” you whimper, breaking the kiss to look up at him, “I’m so sensitive today-”

“Alcohol does that sometimes,” Mark notes, bringing up a hand to cup your breast. When his fingers pinch your nipple, you let out a high pitched squeal, pushing your chest up toward his palm.

“Fuck, Mark-” Your pussy clenches tight around him, and the feeling makes Mark dizzy.

“You sound so good, Sunshine, and you’re gripping me so fucking hard-” Mark begins to fuck into you. Your nails claw at his arms, your head thrown back, eyes closed.

Mark reaches down to rub your clit. You shudder below him, legs tightening around his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moan loudly. “Just like that-”

He applies more pressure to your sensitive bud, making your hips buck toward him, your core clenching him in a death grip.

“If you keep squeezing me like this, I’m not going to last long-” he warns you, tension building in the base of his cock.

“I want you to cum,” you insist, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t you want to try and get there too?” he asks.

“I don’t-” you swallow thickly, “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Let me fuck you a little longer, yeah?” Mark prompts. “I can wait a bit. Actually, we should switch positions.”

“To what?”

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. As soon as Mark pulls away, you’re flipping over, pushing your ass into the air for him.

“Fuck, what a view,” he breathes, hands smoothing across your bum.

You whimper, and the sound encourages Mark to slip himself into you again. The sigh of relief that leaves you has Mark’s skin tingling, his grip finding your hips.

“It’s so deep,” you groan, tangling your fingers in the sheets.

You’re right about that- your wet pussy is taking every inch Mark has, and each smack of his hips against your ass has you getting even wetter. He’s pretty sure you’re dripping down your thighs at this point, and his fingers dig into your skin even harder.

The sounds you’re making are like music to his ears. Your grip on his cock is insane. Mark’s pretty sure tonight is going to be the night that you cum- but as he continues fucking you, it becomes more and more clear that only one of you is going to get there- and fast.

“Fuck,” Mark grunts, his heart racing in his chest as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

“Cum in me,” you insist, reaching behind yourself.

Mark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers and holding you against the small of your back.

“You really want me to cum?” he asks, breathless.

“Please,” you nod, squeezing his hand. “Wanna be full.”

Again, Mark can’t say no to you.

“Okay, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, fucking you even harder. “Shit-”

His orgasm hits straight on, tingling through his entire body like an electric jolt. He pushes his cock into you as deep as it can go, feeling it throb as he coats your walls in cum. Mark throws his head back, eyes closed, overcome by the pleasure that courses through him.

He’s not the type that can fuck someone through his high. When he cums, he has to stop, has to experience the feeling in full. His mind goes completely blank…

But his first thought when the words come back is that he should tell you he loves you.

Fuck. This is becoming a problem.

Every time he cums deep inside of you, his feelings grow. He’s overwhelmed with this sense that you’re meant to be, that he should just lock you down and let you know how much you mean to him.

But as always, that logical side rears its head, reminding Mark that it’s only been a few weeks of seeing each other. He needs to take things slow- for your sake. He doesn’t want to scare you away. Being a safe space for you includes watching his tongue, it means not putting pressure on you like this-

If there’s one thing that will pressure you, it’s the admittance that he’s kind of in love with you.

Instead of saying what’s on the tip of his tongue, Mark pulls out of you. He gets you a tissue for the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and a cup of water to make sure you’re hydrated. Once you’ve both cleaned up in the bathroom, he cuddles you close to his chest, stroking your back and listening to you breathe.

To Mark’s complete shock, you fall asleep on him within minutes.

It’s a sign that you’re truly feeling safe with him, and Mark thinks he must be going in the right direction. He’s careful not to wake you up, he simply enjoys the feeling of holding you close while you rest.

Fourteen

You wake up slowly, cuddling closer to the warmth next to you. It takes you a moment to realize that the heat is coming from Mark, and you open your eyes to stare at him.

“Morning,” Mark grins, putting down his phone to watch you. “Sleep well?”

“Shockingly well,” you grin, snuggling closer. “You?”

“I like sleeping next to you,” Mark muses, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I was thinking I could make you breakfast or something. Neither of us have work today.”

“Breakfast?” You perk up.

“Yeah, I can cook most breakfast or brunch foods, but uh… don’t ask me to make eggs.”

“Eggs?” You raise your brows, looking at him with a laugh.

“I know, it’s stupid cuz I’m literally a line chef, but I never went to school for it, remember?” Mark grins, stroking your skin. “John tried to teach me during brunch last week but I just- don’t have the patience for eggs.”

“Poor John, hired a chef who can’t cook eggs,” you tease. “Are you sure you don’t want something else for breakfast?”

“Like what?”

“Like… me?”

Mark laughs. “As much as I’d love to fuck you today, I feel like- maybe it would be nice to not sleep together this morning... You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”

“Yeah, but… sex is nice, isn’t it?”

Mark strokes your cheek, meeting your eyes. “Sex with you is always nice, but I think I kind of want to be domestic with you today instead, if that’s okay.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at his words. You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him gently. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Mark grins. “Let's cuddle some more, and when you get hungry, I’ll take care of the food.”

As you slowly wake up next to Mark, you’re struck by how comfortable you are. Being with him like this feels natural. There’s no pressure to fuck, no need to suck dick in order to earn affection- Mark simply cares about you, and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

If you’re not careful, you could get used to this.

Fifteen

Since the ‘Christmas’ party, Mark’s been wanting to broach the subject of Jaehyun with you, but in the handful of times he’s slept over with you since then, it’s just never come up.

Today, watching Jaehyun talk with you by the bar, the question is fresh on Mark’s mind, and he only has one person he can justifiably ask about it.

“So… how close are Jae and y/n?”

“Hmm?” Hyuck looks up from the burger he’s stacking. “Oh, those two? Pretty close.”

Mark groans at the lack of detail. “Did they ever date?”

“I think she’s definitely his work crush. Pretty sure he’s asked her out a few times, but I don’t know if she realized it was a date sort of thing.” Hyuck laughs to himself. “I actually walked in on him asking her out around Halloween, but I think she thought it was a group idea. She rejected him though.”

“Looks like he hasn’t taken the hint,” Mark says, mouth forming a firm line.

“Nah, Jae has a pretty big ego. I mean, you’ve seen his face. He’s not used to rejection, it doesn’t compute for him.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply goes back to the alfredo he’s cooking. But it becomes clear that Hyuck doesn’t want to let this go.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you, Marky boy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you totally are,” Hyuck grins. “How long have you and Sunshine been seeing each other now?”

“Like… three weeks? A month almost?”

“Have you talked about being exclusive or anything?”

“Not really.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes or a no, Mark. There’s no ‘not really,’ when it comes to ‘the talk.’”

“No, we haven’t talked about it,” Mark admits with a sigh.

“Sounds like something you want though, right?” Hyuck presses.

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to talk to you about this anymore.”

“You’re the one who brought up Jae,” Hyuck points out, raising his hands in mock defense.

Mark supposes Hyuck is right about that. He’s been considering defining the relationship recently- thinking about how a label could offer you safety, stability, things that are needed to help you relax.

But now, the label transcends the use for comfortability and cumming, it almost feels needed.

You’re hot. Mark knows that. He sees the way people hit on you every day while you’re working. At first, he’d been okay with it- but now, he thinks maybe he needs something more. Maybe he needs the comfort of knowing that you’re taken, by him.

He’s not the type to feel insecure, and he’s not even sure that insecurity is the right word for what he’s feeling.

All Mark knows, is that he wants to get to the next level with you, and he’s going to pull up his big boy pants to finally do it.

Sixteen

You’ve been at home for a few hours, having been cut from work early since it was a slow day, and you’re a little surprised when Mark calls you around dinner time.

“Hey you,” you grin, collapsing onto your bed to give Mark your full focus.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks.

“Just sitting here, was thinking of watching a movie. How about you? Just got off work?”

“Yeah, in a minute, just taking a vape break first. I was thinking maybe you’d let me see you when I’m off?”

“Definitely, you know my door is always open for you. But I should warn you, I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

“That’s okay, I’ll make your favourite and bring takeout,” Mark assures you. “See you in like… half an hour?”

That’s how Mark shows up on your home a short while later. You look him up and down, taking in his work outfit. “Didn’t wanna change after shift?” you grin, holding your door open for him.

“I uh, wanted to see you. Need a shower, so I figured I’d put on my fresh clothes after that.”

“Sounds good, you know that my home is your home. Go shower, I’ll put our food in bowls.” You accept the takeout from Mark, intent on turning to head to the kitchen- only for him to pull you back into an embrace.

“Hi,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your head and nuzzling against your hair.

“Hi,” you grin, turning in his arms to press your lips to his. “Go shower.”

“You got it.”

Mark goes into your bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water begin to run. You take your time in the kitchen. Mark has made himself alfredo, and he’s cooked your favourite rice bowl for you. You smile to yourself while plating the food, loving how domestic things have gotten with Mark.

Part of you is tempted to join Mark in the shower, but you’re not sure if you’re there yet, so you wait patiently for him to finish. This isn’t the first time he’s showered at your place, and you trust he’ll see his designated towel hanging on the hook behind your door.

You kind of enjoy that he’s gotten so comfortable at your home. You’ve been spending so much time with him here and at work that it feels kind of odd when he’s not around.

Soon, Mark is coming out of the bathroom. He’s in sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his tattoos. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling as you move to sit at the dinner table.

“So… did you need to talk to me about something?”

“Hmm?” Mark sits across from you.

“We didn’t have plans, you called and wanted to come over, I guess I’m just wondering if you had a specific reason.”

“Can’t I just miss you?” he grins.

Despite his words, it’s clear that there’s more to it, however you drop the issue. When Mark is ready to be real with you, he will be. You have time until then.

Mark begins to talk about work, how it had gotten busy after you’d left. You listen, happy to chat with him while you eat.

After food, the two of you move to the couch, cuddling up while Netflix starts.

You’re two seasons into your anime already, it’s funny how time flies. You can turn your brain off when Mark spoons you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and again.

One episode in, Mark reaches over you for the remote, pausing your show.

“I guess there is a reason I wanted to come over,” he admits finally.

“Yeah?” You turn onto your back, looking up at him.

“I hate to say that I’ve been jealous, but uh… since the Christmas party, I’ve been a little jealous about you and Jaehyun.” Mark won’t meet your eyes, and you give him the space to continue. “I just… people are always hitting on you, and I don’t know, I think… I mean, I’m a serial monogamist according to Hyuck, and I know we haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but I only see you, in all ways, and I just… I don’t want to lock you down if you’re not looking for something serious, but I guess I wanted to know how you feel about exclusivity and that sort of thing.”

“With you? Mark… I’d love to be exclusive.” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t you realize that I have to watch girls flirt with you too? Maybe we’ve both been jealous. I think… locking each other down would be good for us.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s beaming now.

“You’re special,” you confess. “I’ve never been able to sleep next to a guy I’ve slept with, which feels like such a contradiction- but sleep has always come easy with you. I’ve never felt such a lack of pressure- such acceptance, for all of me, the good and the bad. I like you a lot Mark, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t clear,” Mark assures you, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just… I know you have that wild side, which is totally valid, I just wasn’t sure you were a settling down type.”

“I wasn’t so sure I was either, and then I met you.”

Mark kisses you instead of responding, but you can feel the emotion in the press of his lips against yours. He’s elated by what you’ve just said, and you’re close to floating to cloud nine too.

Even so, there’s something else. You can feel it in the slight tension of his shoulders when your fingers brush over his skin.

“Mark?” you break the kiss, blinking at him. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“It’s just… I know I said there’s no pressure, but I really wanna help you cum. And I’ve been thinking maybe… maybe we could use some of your toys.”

“My toys?”

“Like… some girls cum better with a vibrator, and if you have one, I’d love to use it on you.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Lots of men think their dick is good enough, they feel emasculated to bring sex toys into the mix- but here’s Mark, being as contrarian as ever.

“Even if it doesn’t help you cum, I still think it would be fun. I’m not trying to pressure you-”

“We can use my vibrator,” you assure him, heart thundering in your rib cage at the mere thought of it.

No man has ever used a sex toy on you- it’s probably one of the reasons you’ve never cum with a lover before.

“Come on,” you sit up, heading to your bedroom while Mark follows. “I keep my toys in the closet,” you explain, bending down to find the shoe box that stores your vibrator. You pull the device out, showing it to Mark. “Is this going to work?”

“Yeah, it will work.” Mark watches you stand up, and he holds out his hand for you to pass the toy to him. “I’m uh… I’m gonna put this down so I can get you naked.”

“Okay,” you grin.

He sets the vibrator on your bed gently, turning to you. Mark grabs your face first, pulling you in for a kiss. He’s gentler than you thought he would be, but you don’t mind it. You like getting lost in the feeling of Mark, allowing him to guide you toward the bed.

When you reach your mattress, his hands slip down to the hem of your shirt. He carefully removes it, and you lift your arms to help him with the task. Mark doesn’t immediately go for your pants next, he kisses you again instead, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other grabs the small of your back.

His touch is so gentle, smoothing across your skin. It’s making you even more eager, and you find yourself removing his shirt before he begins to work on your sleep shorts. Soon, you’re just in a bra and panties, but even those get taken off.

When you’re completely bare, Mark gently pushes you down onto your bed, eyes taking in your body.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muses.

Your skin heats at the praise, and you begin to close your thighs, only for Mark to gently prompt them open.

“Don’t hide from me, please,” Mark says softly, getting onto his knees at the foot of your bed. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit before he pushes his tongue into your wet hole.

You breathe a sigh of relief, threading your fingers through his hair. You adjust your thighs on his shoulders, trailing your toes against his well-defined back.

He eats you out for a little while, groaning as he goes. It’s clear to you now that Mark enjoys getting his fill of you, and it makes the experience ten times more enjoyable for you. You’ve been getting better at slowing your mind while Mark licks at your clit, better at focusing on him and not all the worrying thoughts that generally buzz around you.

You feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes to see Mark has reached for the vibrator. He turns it on, assessing the way the toy shakes on the lowest setting. “Do you wanna show me where to use this, sunshine?” he asks, holding it out to you.

With a deep breath, you nod, accepting the toy and bringing it to your clit. “I like… a good amount of pressure,” you tell him, showing him exactly where you like the vibrator to be held.

It feels kind of odd to be pleasuring yourself like this in front of Mark, but from the way his pupils are blown, eyes fixed completely on your core, you can tell that he’s enjoying the view. It makes you feel more confident, as you begin to drag the vibrator side to side, teasing yourself.

“This sort of movement is good too,” you tell him.

“Can I take over now?” he asks.

You nod, allowing him to grab the handle of the toy.

Now that you’re not the one holding it, you can focus completely on the feeling of your clit being vibrated. It feels amazing, your toes curling at the stimulus.

Mark’s free hand is on your inner thigh, smoothing against your skin, but soon, it joins the vibrator. He teases two fingers along your folds before pushing them into you, crooking them up to find the spongey spot that has you crying out.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Mark tells you, applying more pressure to your clit with the vibe. “Fuck, I could watch you like this all night.”

“Puppy-” you whimper, skin tingling at his words.

“You have no idea how good you look,” he continues. “I swear- I want you to cum, but even if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to forget about this. This view is- fuck, it’s the best view in the world. We’re going to be at work and this is all I’ll be thinking about. I won’t be able to get you out of my head.”

With each admittance, each uttered word of praise, you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

“Can you grind on this a little, sunshine? Grind on my fingers and your toy?”

“Yeah-” you whimper, hips moving as you try to follow with his prompt.

“That’s it-” Mark groans. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

His fingers work harder inside of you, and the added pressure makes you squeal. You can’t help the way one of your arms comes up to cover your face, muffling your sounds as your body moves on it’s own accord now. You’re grinding against his hand, grinding against the vibrator that sends tremors of pleasure through your entire form.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Mark tells you. “So lucky that you’re mine- I could watch you like this for hours and not get bored.”

“Mark-” you groan. Usually, when you acknowledge an orgasm building, it dissipates, like some cruel trick of fate, a complete defiance of the laws of physics- but this time, when you whimper “I’m close” the feeling doesn't fade, it only builds.

“Yeah?” Mark sounds shocked. “All it took was a vibe, huh?”

“And… and your praise-”

“You like when I talk dirty to you, sunshine?” Mark asks. “Like it when I tell you how perfect and pretty you are?”

“Yes-”

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Or should I finger fuck this cute little pussy even harder?”

“Oh my God-” you whimper. Mark has truly gotten comfortable with you now- he’s not holding back with his sinful words, and they make your stomach pull into a tight knot. “Please, harder-”

Mark presses the vibrator against your clit, turning up the vibration with his thumb while his fingers continue their brutal pace inside your core.

You find yourself gasping, unable to speak as he works you closer and closer-

“Cumming-” you whisper, your orgasm slamming into you like a train.

Your breath catches, waves of pleasure surging through you. Your fists grip the sheets, your back arches, your thighs quaking around Mark. Whimpers and moans fill the room, your core pulsating around Mark’s fingers while he works you through your high.

“That’s it,” Mark groans. “That’s my good girl.”

“Puppy-” you breathe, the feeling almost becoming too much for you.

“What do you need, sunshine?”

“Your cock,” you blurt out.

“Yeah?” Mark’s fingers slow inside your pussy.

“Please, wanna cum on your cock-”

Mark lets out a breath. “Holy fuck.” He turns the vibrator off, taking his digits from your core. Mark licks them clean before he stands up, pushing down his sweatpants. “Move up the bed for me?” he suggests.

You wiggle up to the pillows, watching Mark get onto the mattress. He allows you to lock your legs around his hips, pulling him close while he crashes his lips to yours.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply. He ruts his hips, allowing you to feel his cock dragging against your core.

Patience is a virtue, but you don’t have any left. You reach between your bodies, grabbing his hard length to line it up with your pussy.

Mark slides into you, and you let out an immediate sigh of relief. His fingers had been nice, but his cock is even better. It stretches you open, you can feel him deeper than ever. You gasp against his mouth, dragging him closer as he begins to thrust into you.

“You feel so good, sunshine,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss so he can press his lips to your throat.

“Puppy-” you whimper, arching your neck so he has better access to find your sweet spot.

Mark captures your hands, lacing your fingers and pressing you into the bed while he fucks you.

You can feel him everywhere. You’re completely bewitched by Mark Lee. Your core is practically dripping, each thrust made easy by the wet that exudes out of you.

Then Mark is reaching for your vibrator. He sits up slightly, looking down at you. “Missionary? Or maybe doggy would be better?”

“I wanna see you when I cum again,” you tell him, accepting the vibrator he holds out to you. “Want you to see me cum with your cock in my pussy.”

Mark lets out a low groan, pressing his lips to yours as you turn on the toy, adjusting it onto your clit.

“If you can’t cum, that’s okay-”

“I think I’ll cum,” you assure him. “Just fuck me hard, and I’ll get there.”

“I can do that,” Mark grins, immediately picking up his pace and adding more power to his thrusts.

“And… tell me I’m pretty again?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Mark groans. “I’m so fucking lucky- how did I ever get this lucky?”

“Puppy-”

“You have no idea how into you I am- I love your sounds, love your voice- love the face you make when you feel good- love your smile-”

Each admittance has your heart buzzing in your chest. It’s crazy how easy it is for him to praise you- it almost feels like all these things were built up inside, like he’s a dam that’s just been released, and God, you love the flood.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, entire body surging with energy.

“You’re squeezing me so well, baby,” Mark groans, and the sound has your pussy throbbing. “Want you to cum with me so bad, do you think you can cum with me?”

“Yeah, just- kiss me?” you suggest.

Mark presses his lips to yours immediately, cupping your face with one hand. His tongue glides against your own. You eat up each other's sounds, getting completely lost in each other.

In no time at all, another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper against his lips.

Mark fucks you even harder in response, and the motion is dizzying.

“Please, sunshine, cum with me- fuck, I can’t hold it, cum with me-”

His words are your last straw as you explode on his cock. Your core clamps down hard, gasps of extacy escaping you.

To Mark’s credit, he holds off his own high long enough to fuck you through yours, and the moment you begin to be oversitmulated, he cums too. You can feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, his load spilling along your insides and coating your walls.

You kiss him deeply, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure.

You’ve never cum with someone balls deep inside of you before, and there’s a voice in the back of your mind itching for you to tell Mark that you love him- but you bite your tongue. You simply kiss him, holding him close while he finishes.

Finally, Mark lets out a small gasp, pulling away from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You’ve never felt this connected to someone in your entire life.

“Are you going to get us tissues?” you ask after a moment, letting out a small laugh.

Mark chuckles, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I just wanna enjoy you a second longer.”

“Puppy, you have literally all the time in the world.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to kick the year off with something more realistic. I wanted to write about a reader who over thinks, who doesn’t cum super easily like we usually see in fanfic. I wanted to touch on the realism of relationships, the use of sex toys, things discussed in the bonus like whiskey dick, domestic showers together and troubles sleeping next to someone new- I really hope you guys liked this even though it’s not as classic fanfic as I usually write :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “I drank too much,” Mark admits. “Hyuck kept egging me on- I’m pretty sure he wanted to get me blackout so I couldn’t fuck you tonight- But I swear- whisky dick won’t last all night,” Mark tells you. “And, I mean, you know I love using your toys so it doesn’t even matter.” He’s adorable. Of course Hyuck wouldn’t take into account that sometimes Mark is perfectly happy making you cum with your toys and not fucking you at all. Mark truly is a man built for your pleasure, and you’re not surprised that ‘whiskey dick’ hasn’t phased him.

cw/ tw. drunk!Mark, shower shenanigans, fingering, pussy eating, use of toys/g spot stimulator, Mark has ‘whiskey dick’ and can’t get hard at first, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, munch!Mark, creampie/fullness kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Mark x afab!Reader

bonus

“Puppy?” You sit up in bed, holding your phone close. Mark’s at some boys night thing, and you really hadn’t expected to hear from him, but here he is, calling you at midnight.

“Hi, Sunshine.”

“Hi Sunshine!” Someone else screams in the background.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Hyuck!” Mark yells back. “Not you, baby, I’m talking to Hyuck.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I gathered that.”

You’ve also gathered that your boyfriend is drunk. You can hear it in his voice, and when he begins to hiccup, it’s even more evident.

“So uh, I wanna see you.”

“You can see me tomorrow, we have dinner plans, right?”

“No, I wanna see you tonight and tomorrow,” Mark insists.

“You do, huh?” God, he’s adorable.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you want to finish boys night?” you prompt, not wanting to get in the way of his time with friends. You know Jeno would get mad about Mark spending time with his ex instead of his boys, and you don’t want to be that girlfriend who restricts her lover from his bros.

“Nah, fuck this,” Mark says. “Jeno went home with a girl, it’s just me and Hyuck and Renjun and Chenle and Jaemin and Jisung-” Sweet Jesus, he’s listing half of your work staff. “But I wanna be with you. I can call a cab and be at your place in like, fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever you want, puppy,” you grin. “I’ll be here.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa - @just-here-to-read-01 - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @aaniag

✘ nct taglist

@milkyway-vxm - @nctsawrus - @shiningdery - @freezerandfame

@fairieblog - @fairybr3ad - @peachyjaemin - @chemaistry

@sehunniepot

Thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

@nae-vm - @rum-gone-why - @kgneptun - @handinyourpants

@stolasisyourparent - @icedearlgreytea

2K notes · View notes

dr-qian · 3 months

Text

break in // m.l

burglar!mark x rich!reader

pt.2 , pt.3

the sound of a lockpick rustling into a metal lock might be the only thing can be heard during the dead of the night, as mark struggled to open the safe he found inside the wealthy mansion of an old man he discovered in the streets.

mark was just leaning by a wall at the sidewalk, taking a break from stealing other people's wallets when he came across this old man who just went out of the jewelry shop, flexing their newly-bought golden watch and diamong rings that could cost millions of dollar.

his eyes sparkled at the sight and thought it was now his chance to get rich, that's why he ended up here in this fancy-lookin' mansion.

the jewelries are almost falling out of his pockets, his sweat is rolling down his forehead, and his veins are already popping out of his arms as he remained focus on opening the safe.

"c'mon you piece of shit" mark mumbled inaudibly due to the little flashlight placed in his mouth, shaking his head in frustration as he accidentally dropped the lockpick on the marbled floor, creating a huge sound.

"hello?"

and then suddenly a door swung opened, revealing you in a satin nightgown.

you only came downstairs to get a glass of water, but then you heard a loud thud of metal coming from your dad's office.

you thought it would just be your dad doing some work until you saw the guy in a black beanie and black clothes, hunched over the safe as he quickly turned to look at you.

"ah- hmmph!" before you can even scream, the guy already ran up to you and blocked your mouth with his hand to stop you.

"hey hey, don't scream, please" he said to you in a pleading tone while still covering your mouth, and you struggling to get his hand off your face.

"i'll let you go, just don't scream please..." you stopped pushing his hand away, to signal him to let you go now.

before doing something, you thought it would be a bad move to betray him, and scream your lungs out once he lets you go since you don't know if he's carrying a weapon with him.

this could be your last memory.

"my name's mark" the burglar introduced himself, you looked at him in confusion.

"why are you introducing yourself?" you asked, suddenly confused as to why this robber becoming friendly so suddenly.

"what? am i supposed to be evil and murder you instead?" mark joked, but you tensed up when you heard the word "murder"

"i'm kidding"

"okay, why are you in here? why are you trying to open my dad's safe?" you asked nervously.

'okay, so you're the daughter of that rich old man'

wow.

"i-i'm just curious.." mark stuttered, thinking of the next words to say.

you glanced down at his current outfit, you saw your mom's necklaces almost splling out his pockets.

"so you're a burglar!" you exclaimed, like you just unlocked a clue.

"i thought it would be that obvious" mark whispered to himself.

"i'm going to call my dad" you told him bravely, as you turned to the exit.

"hey! no, wait!" mark grabbed your arm and tugged you back to him strongly that made you whip your head back immediately to look at him.

"what can i do to stop you from snitching me out?"

and to realize both of your faces are dangerously close to each other.

you stayed silent and unmoving for a couple of minutes, locking your eyes into his until it moved down to his lips, then back at his eyes again.

you really didn't think mark would notice that little movement your eyes made. thanks to you, he finally knew what to do.

then suddenly mark's lips was on yours, both of your eyes closing in instinct as you two enjoyed the kiss that lasted shortly.

breaking away from each other's lips, you were completely silent and was just staring at him in awe.

in the other hand, mark started to get red and awkward, and decided to head towards the window where he broke in. completely forgetting about the safe.

"uhh, imma have to go now, see ya" he said shyly, scratching the back of his head before climbing down the ladder situated outside the window.

mark's gone and you were still standing there dumbfounded.

you don't know if you're just surprised or in love, but a part of you is hoping that he'll come back to rob your place someday so you could see him again.

you haven't even told him your name yet.

when the morning rises, just lie to your parents that you were asleep during the robbery.

429 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 4 months

Text

♟️ between heaven and hell ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ bodyguard!winwin x fem!reader ➛ part of the mad city series | go to district V

content | smut, sprinkle of angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love but not really, forced proximity, a little bit of miscommunication, yn is mentioned to be shorter than winwin, slow burn?, winwin is kinda a dick at first

warnings | fingering, profanity, mentions of food, mentions of a shooting

word count | 18k

synopsis | being born into a repulsive fortune, your life is threatened more often than not. you’ve grown less and less affected by it throughout the years. however, as the day where you take on your father’s much coveted title looms nearer and nearer, more frequent and dangerous threats draw in. with all the money in the world, is it enough to buy trust?

note | ln stands for last name since yn is addressed by her last name quite a bit in this. the ending is a little bit rushed, pls excuse that and ignore the fact that this basically takes place in a week. what is pacing, idk.

tags @90s-belladonna thank you for supporting me!

a smattering of rain hits against the arched window pane of the library, filling the room with a soft pitter-patter. usually, from where you are seated, you can look directly into the well-kept and always blossoming garden. now, it’s too dark for you to make out anything but the slightest silhouette of your father’s treasured magnolia tree.

“miss ln?”

you direct your attention away from the book in your hands, and towards the library entrance that you had your back to.

“your father would like to speak with you.”

this late? you thought.

“thank you, priscilla,” you smile and your housemaid dismisses herself with a gentle nod. you glide your extended legs off of the couch and set down your book next to you on the velvet material of the sofa. sliding on your slippers, you make your way out of the library, softly close the door behind you, and amble along the long hallways and down the staircase leading to your father’s office.

you knock twice on the thick wooden doors painted in a pristine white. "come in," your father calls out. you apply pressure to the metal handle, cold to the touch, and the hinges creak slightly.

you greet your father, sat in his usual spot in the middle of the office with a floor-to-ceiling window to his back. then, something else catches your attention. a tall, backlit figure stands broadly next to your father. the room is illuminated by the moonlight and a gold accented lamp in the far corner, barely enough light to see 3 feet out in front of you clearly.

“yn,” your father addresses you faintly. you instinctively go to pull out one of the two leather seats tucked under the large, hand-carved wooden desk, its’ surface littered with documents and fountain pens. as you take a seat, your father begins, “as you know, your succession is planned for a little over a week, if all goes well. taking into account the latest incident, i have decided to take preventative measures to ensure no more dangers come to you during the lead-up.” your father pauses, his palm opens to gesture towards the man standing beside him. “this will be your new personal guard,” the man steps forward, “dong sicheng.”

confusion evidently sits upon your face. you want to flat out ask, ‘why do i need a bodyguard?’ but you bite back your tongue, trying to come up with a more eloquent and precise prod.

the man doesn’t reach his hand out, as you would expect, to introduce himself. he simply voices, “miss ln,” with a curt nod of his head.

you pull your eyes away from your new bodyguard, you still can’t make out too much of what he looks like. “father, i already have personal guards,” you state matter of factly.

“of course,” your father leans back into his chair. “but none of them are with you 24/7. sicheng will be, ensuring no harm comes your way.”

unbelievable. on the surface, it seems like he truly wants you under protection, but you understand your father’s schemes; you understand your father more than anyone else. what he’s really saying is that he has hired this man—dong sicheng—so that you will be put on his watchlist.

your father smiles a gentle smile. “but,” at the very first sound of a protest, the corners of his mouth begins to droop, “if this is about last time—”

with a firm shake of his head, your father cuts you off. “this isn’t negotiable, yn.”

normally, when you would argue things to be your way, your father would at least hear what you have to say. so, to be cut off so bluntly... a pang of helplessness strikes you square in the chest, and your eyes divert towards your new guard.

“i recommend you use your time to get adjusted to this change,” with that, your father dismisses the both of you out of his office.

you shuffle out into the cold, sterile hallways. marble pillars line the walls with ornate sconces attached upon them, each bearing a flickering candle. besides just hearing the firm footsteps of someone else tailing right behind you, you can also feel an almost omniscient presence shadowing you. swiftly, you spin around on your heels only to be met eye level with someone's chest. your guard's. you have to angle your head upwards so that you can look into his eyes; he seems to purposefully ignore your gaze, staring straight at one of the pillars opposite him.

he's undeniably gorgeous. the hallways are more lit up than your father's study, allowing you to examine every detail of your guard's face.

you wait a few seconds before breaking the silence, "are you not going to say anything?"

he drops his focus onto you. coldly, he replies, "that's not what i'm paid to do, miss." he lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, before returning to look at nothing.

he can tell that you're clearly annoyed by his response, but he makes no show of it. you continue, "if you're not even going to look at me, how are you going to protect me?"

"is there something i need to protect you from in your own home, miss ln?"

he knows. at least he's alluding to knowing about your last little incident. you curse yourself for being careless in your head. if you hadn't caused a ruckus when you snuck home a few nights ago, you wouldn't have this bizarrely handsome, yet callous man looming over you until your father sees a reason to think otherwise.

"no, i suppose not."

you turn around once more, facing the rest of the hallway. an archway leads to a stately staircase at the end of the corridor. you walk down the hall, trying to dismiss the delayed footsteps behind you, and enter through the archway. the staircase spirals upwards into the corridor connecting the bedrooms; yours and your father's. of course, there are other rooms upstairs, such as the library, the games room, other rooms that you don't concern yourself with too much. a grand piano sits in the centre of the spiralling staircase, its' glossy surface lit up by the moonshine flooding inside through the domed skylight.

you proceed up the stairs, not expecting your bodyguard to follow you up, but he does.

you pause, and look back around for the second time now in the span of less than 10 minutes.

"there aren't guest rooms upstairs," you point out flatly.

he responds, meeting your coldness with his own but only 10 times more intensified, "i won't be requiring one."

puzzled, you ask, "you're not going to be sleeping in my room, are you?" half jokingly, half serious.

"miss ln," he takes one step up on the staircase so that he's at the same level as you, forcing you to tilt your head upwards at him. the heels of his shoes echo loudly on impact against the quartz steps. "there are boundaries i must follow in my duties. so whilst i won't be requiring my own room, i also know not to overstep into your privacy." he scans your face, looking for any hint of understanding. then, he adds plainly, "i will be guarding your bedroom door outside. you can rest assured."

you can feel a sly smirk creeping up onto your face, "shame. here i was thinking that you would follow me everywhere. speaking of," you make an exaggerated movement out of looking down at the watch on your wrist. "i should better shower; it's getting late."

sicheng's face is unfazed but still, you simper, looking pleased with yourself.

he stalks behind you wordlessly as you make the rest of your way up to your bedroom. and sure enough, he stops and stands outside to the right of your door.

"you can't be serious," the thought in your head slips out through your lips.

he doesn't look back. "i'm afraid your father is a vey serious man, miss ln."

how does father expect this man to stand outside of your room all night long? assuming he doesn't sleep, given the 24/7 hour-ness as mentioned in your father's spiel, how will he even have to energy to do his job?

you study the profile of his back for a few seconds before pushing your door closer to the frame, not completely shutting it.

your bedroom connects to an en suite bathroom. to say it's grand is underplaying the extent of luxury which you live in. the room is unnecessarily spacious with marble counters and a tall ceiling with intricately moulded details. a round bathtub sits in the centre, integrated directly into a gazebo-like fixture. a golden chandelier hangs overhead the bathtub, softly lighting up the room, creating a warm atmosphere. to the right side of the tub, facing across from the mirror and the sink, stands a shower area enclosed by frosted glass doors.

you reach for your zipper on the nape of your neck. you slide your thumb underneath the metal tab and begin to pull it down between your fingers. it budges an inch or two before it gets caught onto the fabric of your dress. "ugh," you vocalise. forcibly, you attempt to get the zipper unstuck, tugging and tugging but it won't shift.

you can only think of one solution.

"uh," you call out loud enough so that your bodyguard outside is sure to hear you. you're not quite sure how you should address him; calling him by his name feels weirdly a bit too intimate.

putting you out of your misery, he responds, "yes?" from outside in the halls.

"could you... come in?"

there's a break before he answers back to you. "i'm afraid that's unbecoming of me unless there's an emergency, miss ln."

you roll your eyes, despite knowing he's not there to see. "there is an emergency. will you come in now?"

"...are you decent?" he seems to contemplate his words carefully.

"god, you're frustrating," you blurt out, "yes, i'm decent- who do you think i am?"

there's a brief pause in time before you hear footsteps step into your bedroom. you can see him stop in front of your bathroom doorway in your peripheral.

you look over at him, standing tall and poised with his hands clasped in front of him. "what's the emergency, miss?"

turning your back against him, you sweep your hair over your shoulders, baring your zipper. "i can't get this unstuck."

he doesn't take any steps towards you, "and you needed me to come in for this?"

your patience grows thinner and thinner by the second. "if i could've got it myself, i wouldn't have called for you, would i?"

with this, he takes one... two... and three steps. just three steps before he's in reach of you. you can feel a warmth draw closer to you. turning your head towards your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you in the mirror. without knowing, you hold your breath. he goes to pull gingerly with one hand on the back neckline of your dress, the other trying to unwedge the fabric jammed underneath the zipper. he frees the tab and smoothly, he unzips you down to the middle of your back, stopping himself from releasing the zip all the way down. immediately, he drops his head and removes his hands from your dress while simultaneously taking a large step back from you.

"if that's all, i will leave you to rest for tonight, miss ln." his head is still angled downwards, eyes glued to the bathroom tiling.

you mutter, "thank you," finally taking in a breath again.

he nods, and begins to step backwards out of the bathroom. before he disappears completely from your field of vision, he is stopped by your expulsion of an 'um.'

without a word, he waits for what you have next to say. turning around to face him, he lifts his head and meets your eyes, still as emotionless as they were when you two were on the stairs.

"goodnight, sicheng."

you can see his chest rise, and fall before he speaks again. "goodnight, miss ln."

there's gentle thumping at the door but you can't be sure. your head and senses are foggy from sleep. your eyelids remain shut, trying to phase out the knocking.

"miss ln?"

for a brief moment, you don't recognise the voice calling out for your name. it is much deeper than the normal voice of your housemaid. your eyes open to a squint to see the morning sun rays surging into your room through the mesh veil of your curtains. another part of the garden can be seen through the windows to the right of your bed.

"miss ln?" sicheng calls out again.

"yes?" groggily, you answer as you push yourself up, propping your back against the cushioned headboard.

"your housemaid informs me that you have errands to run today."

your head snaps, remembering what today is. the gala.

he continues speaking, "i tried to send some of my men to help carry out your errands for you instead, but i was told to get your permission."

you manoeuvre out of your bed, tossing the throw blanket off of you. heading directly for the double doors, you swing them open to find dong sicheng standing right outside with his arms behind him, his head bowed. the sudden movement causes him to jolt his head upwards.

"no, i'll go," you scan him quickly up and down. he's dressed in the exact same outfit as last night, hair still combed over only a bit more disheveled. you want to ask if he really stood outside of your room while you slept throughout the whole night, but you know what he will say. your father never made promises he can't follow up on, mainly because it was never him personally who fulfilled his promises.

sicheng, looking caught offguard for the first time quickly steels his face back again into his trademark stoicness. "then, i shall accompany you." he gives your get-up one swift look down, then back up. "i'm ready whenever you are."

feeling only slightly annoyed at his gesture, you close the door on him and go to get dressed.

...

sicheng sits next to you in the car. the driver in front seems to pay no attention to his presence. you glance over, trying to make your staring not as conspicuous, but to no avail. his posture is perfectly upright and his hair looks more groomed than when he was stood outside your bedroom door.

"do i look to your standard, miss ln?" it's only when he finishes asking his question that he meets your gaze. it's clear in that moment that he didn't expect an answer to his rhetorical question.

feeling only slightly embarrassed, you lower you eyebrows at him, "do you remember last night when you said you don't get paid to talk?" feigning curiosity with your head tilted to the side.

the slightest smile breaks on his face. "very well," eyes diverting away from you and onto the road out in front through the windshield.

the rest of the ride is silent, which your chauffeur took as a sign to turn on the radio. the first piece that blares out ever so softly is liebestraum no. 3.

the car then comes to a halt in front of a private wine bar. sicheng opens his door and holds onto the handle as he waits for you to shuffle out behind him. then, he shuts it and waves the driver off to a direction. you readjust your outfit from having been sat down.

carefully, you traipse your way towards the entrance of the wine bar, being deliberate to not place a heel down in between the crevices of the cobblestone that lined the courtyard.

"i'm surprised you haven't voiced your displeasure for me going out of the house, yet," you remark, "surely, my father told you i was not to be let out."

for having been against the idea of having a bodyguard just yesterday, you seem to have grown rather used to having sicheng around you rather quickly. you can only hope that he doesn't pick up on this.

"not to be let out without protection, yes."

he's quick on the draw. you pause right in front of the heavy mahogany door, the top of it curved inwards to a sharp point. your eyes gloss over the coffee brown grain pattern before you place a palm onto it and push inwards.

...

it's been a few hours since you've arrived back home from the wine bar, having picked out the perfect gift for the gala host tonight. sunset falls upon the horizon and that's your cue to start getting ready.

you've always had a habit of putting on your makeup by yourself as opposed to having someone else do it for you. however, that habit doesn't carry over to styling your hair.

you're sat in front of a full length mirror, a baroque style detailing frames the entirety of it. priscilla, one of the housemaids who's similar in age to you, stands behind you, attentively pinning the hair in the back of your head into a detailed updo. you look at your dress in the mirror. the square neckline makes space for your freshwater pearl necklace that glows softly against your skin.

"and... all done," priscilla announces.

you turn your head in the mirror to get a better view of her work, "it's a beautiful job." you stand from your seat, catching her eyes in the reflection, "thank you."

she smiles brightly, her youth glints in her eyes. "here," she looks to the side to grab a pair of long silk gloves, holding it out to you. you pull them over your left hand all the way up to your elbow, then your right, struggling a little over the bandage wrapped around your palm.

after tucking your purse in between your arm and your ribs, you're ready to head out.

sicheng is already in the foyer, waiting for you. when your heels first click against the quartz stairs, his eyes darts toward you at the top of the spiralled staircase. you delicately place a hand on the iron banister and as you make your way down the steps, you glide your gloved palm along the railing.

sicheng watches your every action.

when you reach the bottom of the staircase, you shake your head gently to push back the strands of hairs that had fell in front of your face.

"how do i look?" you ask with a teasing smile.

you can see sicheng's lips part faintly, only for him to clear his throat right after. "as you do normally, miss ln." he subtly straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back. "after you," he gestures towards the front door.

...

sicheng pulls open the door closest to you. he extends his palm towards you, with his other hand cradling a small, rectangular wooden box. you take his hand as you lift one foot out of the vehicle and onto the tiled courtyard of the xiao family house.

the butler comes to greet you. you've known him and the family that he works for for as long as you can remember, and seeing him again tonight struck a chord within you. a certain spark of gloom settles inside your stomach when you see him smile, his wrinkles deeper and his hair greyer than you remember.

the butler leads you down the main entrance hall towards the gala that's already well under way behind the closed doors. you've been down these halls more than a handful of time, the same paintings have been hung up on the walls for at least a decade, but the air of elegance and grandeur that the xiao family home exudes never fails to knock your breath out of you.

sicheng notices you seemingly lost in a thought, and before the trio of you reaches the superfluously tall double doors, he quietly utters, "is everything alright?" being mindful and not wanting the butler to overhear if something was amiss.

you glance over your shoulder, out of your trance, "yes."

he doesn't press, anymore. even if he did want to ask more, ask if you were sure, he knew his place, and so he didn't pry further.

the butler pushes open the double doors and a gentle puff of wind blows against you, travelling along with the music to your ears. "enjoy the gala," he smiles, and you return his display of friendliness.

as he walks back down the other direction, sicheng inches ever so slightly closer to you.

the cold and eerily too refined hallway is starkly contrasted by the lively atmosphere of the gala ballroom. attendees are chatting, networking, dancing. they all look extremely distinguished; pearls and diamonds and crystals draped all over them. the chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom is glistening, and a small orchestra is performing at one end of the hall.

you pause on top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the scene in front of you, and simultaneously searching for a face. then, you find it.

you begin to make your way down to where everyone else was on the dance floor, and sicheng follows closely behind you. as you weave your way in between the attendees, your senses are hit and overwhelmed with notes upon notes of fragrances. it transitions from roses to vanilla, cedarwood to bergamot. individually, these aromas would typically be more than pleasant, but combined together along with the heat emanating off everyone, it muddled your senses so much that a headache began to creep its way into your temples. it's clear as you manoeuvre your way across the dance floor, that sicheng stood out to everyone as an unusual date of yours. they would flash a faint smile at you then take one, or two glances at the man trailing behind you. guards weren't uncommon, yes, but to bring a personal guard to a gala hosted by a well respected member of the upper echelon? that was uncommon.

finally, you're face to face with the person you've been looking for: the host.

"mrs. xiao."

"yn!" she enthusiastically greets you, a beaming smile on her face. her arms open up and pull you into a warm embrace. "goodness, i haven't seen you in so long!" she expresses as she begins to pull away.

"i know, it's been way too long," you politely respond.

if you were talking to anyone else in this room, you'd be dead before you were caught speaking so casually to them. but you grew up next to mrs. xiao and her family. her son, dejun, was practically your childhood best friend. well, it's hard to tell if a best friend really is a best friend when that was your only option, but nonetheless, your two families were close.

"oh!" you voice as you turn around to sicheng. you stretch your hands towards the wooden box that he was carrying and he places it gently into your palms. "here, i got you some merlot," you turn back around, "i asked barnie at the winery to give me your favourite," a curl stretched your lips taut.

a wave of gratitude washes over mrs. xiao's face. "you're still as thoughtful as ever, yn." she takes the box into her arms, and as if on cue, someone dressed in a neat uniform comes towards mrs. xiao and takes the box away so that she doesn't have to carry it herself for more than a couple of seconds.

and right at the moment, dejun approaches where you are stood in the centre of the ballroom, walking alongside some other guests, one you know, the other you don't.

mrs. xiao turns to him, trying to contain some of her agitation as she mutters, "where have you been this whole night?"

"i've been in here, ma," he responds equally as quiet, but more passive aggressively, disguised with that bright smile of his.

mrs. xiao turns her head away from him with her nose up, trying to swallow down her irritation. "anyway," she breathes out. "dejun, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

he took that as a sign to do as his mother asked, but not before sighing a shallow breath first. in an instant, he puts on a charming smile. you know he's not doing it for you, he couldn't care less about being charming towards you; both of you knew you would see right through it anyway. "yn, this is rin. rin, yn. and hendery's here as well, i guess," he mutters the last part of his sentence.

you stifle back a smirk at dejun's attempt at humour and extend your palm for a handshake with rin. "it's a pleasure to meet you." she doesn't say anything but shakes your hand gently and mirrors your smile back to you, except hers looks very practiced and unnatural.

mrs. xiao tuts her teeth, so subtly that it's barely audible. she turns her body into you ever so slightly, leaning forward and muttering under her breath into your ear, "i really wish you were here to stop my jun兒 from falling into these circles. look at them, no manners at all."

dejun watches almost awkwardly, then he switches the attention onto you. "what about you, yn? aren't you going to introduce us to your little armpiece?" he cocks his head in sicheng's direction.

mrs. xiao shoots dejun a stern look, one that carries the weight of a thousand words. but in front of such a crowd, the extent of her reprimanding ends at, "don't speak so crass."

dejun only shoots up his eyebrows in response, and sucks in a quiet breath.

"this is dong sicheng," on instinct, your hand sweeps out to the side of you and sicheng nods. "he's the... bodyguard, that my father hired."

"bodyguard, huh?"

"don't start, xiaojun," you try your best to make it seem subtle enough, but dejun chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes.

mrs. xiao cuts through the brief pause in conversation, "well, we would love to stay and chat more but i should go greet some of my other guests. you don't mind, yn?"

"no, of course, not."

mrs. xiao gives you one last squeeze before she's off again waving halfway across the room to somebody else, and dejun and his friends trail behind her.

you're about to turn around when a waiter passes by you and sicheng, one hand balancing a tray full of glasses of champagne.

"a drink, miss?"

you pinch the stem of the glass in between your fingers and your thumb. when the waiter offers one to sicheng, he declines.

as you bring your champagne up to your lips, sicheng slips his fingers around the bowl of your glass and forcibly pulls it away from you. "he offered you one," you look at him in disbelief, but he acts as if you didn't say anything.

he hovers the rim of the glass under his nose, swirling the champagne around as he does so. you watch, still half incredulous and half in puzzlement. he brings the rim up against his lips, tipping the glass towards him as he takes the tiniest sip of champagne that you’ve ever seen. as he swallows, he smacks his lips together lightly, then he passes the glass back to you.

“what was that for?” hesitantly, you sit the bowl of the glass back into your palm. you’re not sure if you should sip from the same cup as he did—is that even appropriate in this setting?

“not laced,” he states nonchalantly, eyes darting around the room.

it takes your brain a few seconds to fully process what he just did, and said. “and why would it be laced?” a confusion intertwined with your voice.

sicheng stares at you, not blankly, but not aggressively either. it’s like you can read what he’s doing in his head, going down winding paths to find you an answer, but you can’t read exactly what it is that he’s thinking.

he finally responds after a good few moments of him turning your question over in his head. “you are my responsibility,” he can sense that you are about to object this statement, so he quickly continues. “regardless of what you may think, you are. whatever i do, i do in your best interest. do you understand now?”

truthfully, you want to reply, ‘not quite.’ how does that explain why your drink at a gala held by people you know, people you trust, would be laced?

sicheng leans in close enough so that you can hear him at a whisper, but not so close that people will see and start to speculate. "miss ln, may i remind you you're a successor. i know you've already lived through some threats, but if they were willing to threaten you when you arguably held no power, imagine what they would do if they knew you were taking over your father's position as mayor."

he backs away; face still as cold as steel, not letting anything that he's thinking or feeling show. you can't help but feel a bit shaken at his words. yes, you've received threats before, but they were mostly empty-handed words scribbled on a note. you never thought anything of them, until sicheng said something just now.

"there's no reason people here of all places would want to do anything to me; you're too paranoid." as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your doubt coating your tongue, but you wash it down with some sparkling wine. just a little bit.

sicheng studies your expression for a second, his head tilting slightly to the side. "have you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing, miss ln? maybe you're not paranoid enough," his last word drags off and almost becomes inaudible.

you blink your lashes a couple of times looking up at him, and then an echoing voice pierces right through the ballroom.

"hello everyone! thank you all for attending my little gathering."

both you and sicheng turn your heads to the origin of the sound. mrs. xiao is stood on the little stage that the orchestra has been performing on.

a pleasant smile drawing on her face as she addresses her guests, "it is so great to see so many of you. as you all know, my husband and i-"

the lights cut. the chandelier that was hanging above the dance floor flickers off.

mrs. xiao's voice can be heard again, but this time loudly proclaiming without the help of her microphone over the gasps and murmurs of confusion. "everyone please remain calm—i'm sure the lights will be back on soon."

a sudden pang of fear hits you. your heart thumps faster in your chest, and your breathing becomes shallower and shallower. there's darkness all around you. you try your best to look for, or rather, feel around for sicheng but you remain quiet, knowing it will only add to the chaos. people all around you are shuffling, nudging everyone else. whispers and mumbles all fade into a singular stream of white noise around you. then, you feel a hand grasp on your upper arm. a sense of relief washes over your mind, sicheng. but then, the grasp feels begins to dig deeper and deeper into you, and it becomes clear to you that whatever grasping you isn't a hand. at least, it's not a hand coming into direct contact with you. the fingers digging into your arm are clothed by a silk or sorts; sicheng didn't wear gloves.

you try to free your arm by wrangling it away from whoever it is that has a hold on you. then, in an instant, you feel the hand drop from you so forcibly that it tugged your arm downwards along with it. a new hand has made its way onto you, this time just slightly below your shoulder. you hear a whisper in your ear, "come on, let's go," and the relief you felt earlier resurfaces. this time, it's definitely sicheng's voice.

he takes hold of your wrist, not too tight but just enough to guide you to the exit. as you two are about to head up the stairs to the double doors, the lights flicker back on and mrs. xiao is on stage again.

"there we are. i apologise profusely for that disruption," her hands grip onto the mic stand tightly.

sicheng leads you up the stairs and out the doors without second guessing; everyone else seemed too caught up in the middle of the chaos to notice.

...

back at your home, you and sicheng enter through your foyer and he's spluttering out orders and demands over the phone. as you pass by the large circular mirror hanging in one of the walls of the foyer, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. you double take. one of your ears are still adorned by the beautiful pearl earring that your father had got you, but your other one is missing.

sicheng gets off of the phone that he's been on since the beginning of the car ride home. then, he notices you staring at your reflection in the mirror. "what's the matter?"

you give a gentle shake of your head, fingers drawing at your bare earlobe, "nothing, just one of my earrings is gone."

"i'll have my men try to find it for you," he responds without missing a beat. "miss ln, are you sure that nothing else happened whilst the lights went out?" his eyebrows curve in a slight s-shape.

"yes, i already told you. someone grabbed me by the arm, but that was it. maybe they just thought i was someone they knew."

sicheng shows no reaction to your theory, "i will have this investigated, miss ln. i advise you to get some rest," he says with a bow of his head.

your nightly routine goes by like a blur. priscilla has been dismissed for the night, so you undo your hair, your gown, and clean off your makeup all by yourself, but your mind isn't fully in the present.

sicheng went off after telling you to get some rest, presumably to inform your father about what'd happened. you don't know for certain if he's still speaking to your father, or if he's standing outside your door right now.

it's not that your mind is dwelling on what happened; in fact, you are precisely thinking of nothing. everything in your vision passes by you like you're watching someone else lead their life. even as you get changed, crawl into bed, and try to drift to sleep.

suddenly, you hear a creak from outside your window. your eyes shoot open. trying your best to calm yourself, you reason that it's probably just mice who'd made their way into your garden. a strong gust of wind blows past. then, silence.

and another creak. all logic and rationale flys out of your mind. the only thing you can think of to do is...

"sicheng!"

you tried your best to hold your own earlier, down in the foyer, but right now the sense of urgency in your voice betrays you. sicheng bursts into your room, the buttons of the collar of his shirt undone.

"yes, miss ln?"

his eyes are solely focused on you, despite you looking out towards the windows.

"there's... i heard some weird noises," you gesture with your head pointing at the garden.

sicheng follows your gaze, then he looks back at you. he could tell you that you're in your own home, that you're safe, but instead, he walks over to your windows and draws open your curtains. "there's nothing here, miss ln." hoping that he can provide you with some reassurance, he looks back at you, "we've already done a perimeter check, you're safe here, i assure you."

you drop your eyes, responding with a gentle nod of the head.

"i'll be outside," he says as he begins to make his way back to the door.

before he can reach the handle, you stop him, "wait." he looks at you with an expectant expression. "can't you just stay here?"

even though he's a distance away, you notice a flinch in his brows as he registered your words. "i'm afraid that's not appropriate, miss ln." he says this, but he doesn't take another step.

"there," you point towards the sofa chair to the right side of your bed, "at least just stay there." you wanted to add a 'please,' maybe plead with him, but your dignity had to be kept even if you were fearful.

he doesn't protest as much as you thought he would. quietly, he shuts your door and makes his way to the chair.

your fingers hop from one note to another, pressing down with force and lifting again at the flick of your wrist. a familiar tune emanates throughout the room, rising up to the skylight, then sinking back down again.

your hands dance along the keys of the grand piano at the bottom of your staircase. a bittersweet melody fills your ears, and as you come to a decrescendo in the piece, the faint sound of footsteps through the marble halls overtake your playing. you swiftly turn your head around.

sicheng is stood behind you. under the bright morning light, his cheekbones stand out prominently. "i've been looking for you, miss ln," his chest falls as he says this.

"you dozed off," you turn your attention back to the piano, "i didn't want to wake you."

"i apologise; it won't happen again."

"you need to rest, too," you raise your hands and gently set them on top of the keys, "do you even sleep?"

there's a slight break in between your asking of the question and his answer. "occasionally, but not when i'm supposed to be on duty."

you turn back around, "well, like you said: i'm safe here." you scan him up and down, he's changed out of the outfit he wore to the gala last night, but all his outfits resemble each other. a black button up shirt, a fitted black blazer, black suit paints, a black tie, and a small white brooch on the lapels of his blazer. "do you play?"

he looks to be slightly caught offguard, "no. well, yes but-"

"play something for me."

you shuffle yourself to one side of the bench, making room for sicheng next to you. he slowly walks around and slides into the spot you've made for him. for the first time, you can visibly see that every one of his actions are carried out with hesitation.

his posture is perfect, head slightly tilted downwards and a curve at his wrist as his fingertips lay upon the whites of the piano keys. he clears his throat. then, a single note as he presses down with his index finger. the beginning is slow, slower than the piece was intended to be, but you know what he's playing regardless. nocturne op. 9 no. 1. there's a certain silent agony in the way he punctuates the flow of the melody. the second of the set of nocturnes that chopin had composed has always been regarded as chopin's more famous piece of work over this one. yet, the manner in which sicheng plays this piece makes you wonder why.

the stiffness that was prevalent in his body is now gone, fully immersed in the rhythm. the crescendo comes devastatingly, he leans forward into it, the melody tugging at your chest despite it sounding a bit brighter than the introduction of the piece. you watch in silence as his fingers glide and cross over each other masterfully, a sonorous tone emitting from his movements.

he doesn't finish the piece, but he finds a place to stop after a minute or so of playing.

his fingers linger on the notes as the melody fades out gradually.

"you play beautifully," softly, you remark, "where did you learn?"

he lifts his hands from the keys, clasping them together on his lap. "thank you—my mother taught me."

you watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple dipping slightly. a thought occurs to you. you barely know anything about this man who’s supposed to protect you. maybe that’s for privacy, confidentiality, or security reasons but, there’s a certain yearning in you that wants to find out more about him. after all, trust can’t be built without a foundation. you just don’t know where to prod.

“…and what about your dad?”

sicheng glances over at you, slightly confused at your sudden interest in him. his eyebrows flinch again. “he, uh, used to work for your father. that’s why i’m here. my family owes a lot to your father.”

he gulps again.

you’re not completely sure how to navigate through this conversation. do you ask where his father is now? what if it’s a sensitive spot, why else would sicheng be acting this uncharacteristically. his cold and cool demeanor seemingly melted away. “your father… is he…”

you don’t finish your sentence, but sicheng knows what you’re hinting at. “no, no. he’s just retired. too many injuries on the job.” he clears his throat and stands up from the bench. “sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude on your space, miss ln.” he begins to walk back around the bench.

you can’t help but let out a faint chuckle. “drop the title already. it’s just yn.”

he’s standing tall, hands clasped in front of him, and he purses his lips together. he dips his head rather jerkily, “as you wish.”

then, a ping sounds out.

you pick up your phone that was laid out on the top cover of the piano, and sicheng fishes for his in the inside pockets of his blazer. as he brings out his phone, you begin to hear a vibration sounding out. he holds it in his hand and flashes a quick glance at you, “excuse me,” then he accepts the call. as he brings it up to his ear, he spins on his heel and start to walk off into a distant hallway.

you divert your attention back onto your screen and begin to see messages popping up at the bottom. ones from dejun that read:

"my mum would like to apologise to everyone here about what happened yesterday."

it's sent to the group chat thread that you rarely respond to, though, you do keep up with its messages.

then, another:

"i don't believe in apologies without actions, so you're all cordially invited to come to dreamers' oasis in d119 tomorrow night."

"on me."

the last message was an important detail. you click on the notification bubble and already see others typing in the group chat.

hendery writes, "you are so gonna regret saying that."

a tiny smile creeps its' way onto your face. your thumbs begin moving on the keyboard; hitting send on a message that says, "hendery's going to bankrupt you," which earned you a dislike from dejun.

he ignores your comment, "will you finally be joining us yn? you know, seeing as it's your last week as a free woman."

the last part of his sentence hits you; maybe not to that extreme but it is your last week before you have to take on your father's responsibilities.

every time dejun invites you to a night out, it's most of the time a no brainer and not in a positive way. all the clubs and bars that your friends choose are out of your district's boundaries. and it's not like you didn't have clubs and bars in this district, but the fun ones—as dejun puts it—are only in district 119. you've only taken the risk a couple of times, but now, with especially an extra pair of eagle eyes on you, the possibility of sneaking out is practically 0.

before you can respond, hendery already sent out a message in your place, "have you seen her little boyfriend yesterday? there's no way man."

as much as you want to disagree, you can't. there is no way.

"not my boyfriend," you finally type out.

messages keep popping up on screen, a plan coming together with the people that can go. before you exit out of the thread, you type in "i'll see what i can do," but you stop short of pressing send.

quietly, you head off in the same direction as sicheng, scanning the halls for any sign of him. you're not quite sure what you'll do once you see him. beg him? please let me go out with my friends and get wasted? no. you haven't reached that point, yet; you still have some decorum within you.

you spot him still talking over the phone behind a marble pillar. as silently as possible, you sidle over to where he is, not wanting to disrupt him. once you're close enough, you catch glimpses of his conversation that he's having: "do you understand? whatever you do... we can't let her find out what happened."

your brain made the connect pretty quickly, the 'her' in question had to be you—who else? and what is he keeping from you? he continues speaking but nothing is going through you. all you can think about is, what is he not telling me? as quietly as you came, you retrace your steps back into the piano room.

you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a spark of fury beginning to catch within you. if you are to trust sicheng, why would he purposefully keep something from you? the more you think about it, the more agitated you grew. the fact that he seemed to treat you like a child needing protection every step along the way annoyed you—and what if his intention wasn't to protect you? your head can only spin with theories and speculations.

you unlock your phone again, and hit send on the last message you typed out.

...

your father wanted to have dinner with you tonight, alongside sicheng, of course. and you know now after sitting down to begin your meal, he really wanted to have dinner with sicheng tonight.

"any updates?" your father directed the inquiry towards your bodyguard.

the three of you are sat on a long, oval table. your father sitting at one end, and you and sicheng sitting across from him, sharing the other end. the candelabra stands in between you and your father in the middle.

"no, not yet, sir. we're still trying to investigate the intent behind yesterday's actions."

he finishes his sentence before continuing to cut into his ribeye. you sit adjacent to him, observing every movement he takes. as he stabs into the meat with his fork and brings it up into his mouth. he sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, bringing the napkin laid flat on his lap up as he chews.

"yn, you're not hungry?" your father's voice booms from across the room, breaking your attention away from sicheng.

you look down at your plate, barely touched aside from you swirling the sauce around. "no, i'm afraid not." you set down the fork that you have been toying with flat on the tablecloth. you pull the napkin from your lap and place it on the other side of your plate. standing up, you voice, "i'm a bit weary tonight." you spot sicheng shifting to get up from his seat in your peripheral, "no, no, please finish dinner. father, would you excuse me?"

"well... of course," with your father's approval, sicheng sits back down. you turn around, the heels you're wearing click at a steady pace as you're headed for the doors.

you haven't spoken directly to sicheng since dinner last night. the whole of today you spent cooped up in the library. that's not to say that you were being passive, though.

you haven't forgotten about dejun's invitation for drinks tonight—you just needed the perfect cover.

it's around 8pm, your maids have come and gone bringing you food and tea from time to time. you glance at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall in between all the bookshelves.

you slide the book that you've held in your hands back into its spot on the shelf. rather than actually reading it, your eyes have been skimming the pages and the words scattered throughout absent-mindedly. you turn your plan over around in your mind as you did so, and you have been for the past few hours, at least.

you drag your feet over the wooden floorboards of the library and crack open the doors. you peak your head out into the crack, then the rest of your body follows. oddly enough, sicheng isn't standing right in front of the room.

like a stereotypical action movie, you give the hallways a quick glance in one direction, then the other. you've never felt as much like a thief in your own home. sneaking, tiptoeing around the hallways, caution bubbling in every part of you.

when you reach your bedroom doors, footsteps sound behind you.

the looming presence of someone else doesn't speak, the only indication of them even being there is the shadow of them casted over your own feet.

you turn around, and you're met with the face that you've come to expect these past few days. "i'm... having an early night in."

sicheng's expression is unfaltering. the return of his stoicism makes you feel like a schoolchild being reprimanded by some vague authority figure; desperate to give more and more answers, to keep speaking and reasoning.

he watches your frozen body, as if you'd been caught doing something you're not supposed to, when in reality you're just stood outside of the doors to your own bedroom. "just thought i'd tell you," you add.

"well, don't let me stop you." his torso leans forward ever so slightly, the tone of his voice catching on the edge of a faint whisper.

the handle of the door clicks as you push onto it. when you look back to shut it, sicheng repositions himself with his back to the wall that lines the outside of your room.

once you're completely alone, you strip yourself of the sleeping clothes that you'd been wearing for entirety of today immediately and go over to your closet where you'd already hung up an outfit that you picked out last night.

you slip it on hastily: a tight fitting camisole top with a miniskirt, paired with some knee high leather boots and an oversized jacket for warmth. most of this outfit doesn't even look like it belongs to you. the people in your life knows you for wearing pretty dresses and skirts that reach your knees at least, but if tonight's going to be anything close to fun, then you need to look the part. you can't afford sticking out like a sore thumb, especially in district 119.

you'd texted your friends—or rather xiaojun, and his friends—earlier, asking if they could park right outside the gazebo at the far end of the garden, waiting for you to show up. this plan has worked precisely 2 times before with a 100% success rate, and you're counting on it working for a third time.

you would open the doors to your balcony, climb over the balustrade and scale your way downwards on the water pipe right next to your balcony landing. the garden wasn't fenced in like the front of the house. after all, this house was on private land belonging to your father; anyone who tried to trespass would've been seen by at least one person working on the property. so, it was an easy enough escape from the garden compared to your exit route down from your room.

you walk through the gazebo, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you try to shake the cold of the night off of you. dejun's suv is there, headlights off.

they must've seen you even in the dark, because once you're about a step or two away, the passenger door to the suv swings open—dejun himself in the driver's seat.

...

after finding a quick place to park, you and the group walk a block to where the club is, having had a drink or two on the way here.

the streets are anything but quiet. the heavy void of the sky sits atop the city like a dome, the neon signs colouring the deep blue like a palette of dulled paint. the closer and closer you get to the club, the music already begins to boom from within. laughter erupts from the rest of the group from a joke that you missed.

a pair stands right outside the entrance of the club, one of them leaning against the brick wall whilst the other squats; cigarettes in both their hands. you hold your breath as you walk right into a fresh cloud of smoke, courtesy of the man standing up.

on one hand, you want to let loose tonight; have fun. but on the other, you can't help but wonder if you were meticulous enough, or even at all. there's no guarantee that sicheng wouldn't just open your door and find that you are nowhere within the vicinity. but he wouldn't for no reason, you try to calm your racing mind.

you find yourself at the back of the pack, watching everyone in front of you filter into the entrance, disappearing into the darkness surrounded by a rectangular frame.

dejun is right in front of you, he takes note of your hesitation. he comes back down from the steps leading to the entrance stopping right next to you.

lowering his head, he looks at you through his brows, "don't tell me you're gonna pussy out when you're right outside."

you try to dismiss the doubts flaring around in your head. "you wish. drinks still on you, right?" you shoot him a quick wink, then stride up the steps and like others before you, submerge into the darkness.

and immediately, flashing lights take over the darkness. a neon green fog floats just above the floor. a circular platform stands in the middle of the club with a metal pole going through the centre of it. the club itself is a lot bigger than you'd imagined, given what the exterior of it looked like. circle booths surround the platform and smaller ones are peppered all throughout. the ceiling is tall with decorative vines and ivies hanging from it, not low enough for anyone to reach. 2 bartenders stand behind the bar, busying themselves with orders upon orders for a room of, what looks to be about 200 people. a small, spiralled staircase stands to the right of the bar, leading to what resembles a loft platform with people drinking and laughing up on it.

it's as if your feet are stuck to the ground as you take in the scene before you. dejun places a hand on the small of your back. he utters right by your ear, "come on, that way," as he guides you towards one of the bigger booths right in front of the platform.

you plop down on the red leather couch, warmed against the back of your thigh.

remixes of popular songs blast unapologetically out of the speakers that lined every few inches of the walls. you can hardly hear the people in front of you speaking, debating what drinks to get first. you lean forward, wanting to get an in on what they're discussing. shots, shots, shots. after a word or two from dejun, everyone agrees that they should do shots first. melon flavoured, to be exact.

dejun vanishes into the group of people crowding around the bar.

"so, yn, how's leaving your house for the first time ever?" one of dejun's friends sprouts up.

you can feel your breathing pick up its pace. you weren't expecting much conversation seeing as 'friends' isn't exactly the label you'd put on these people, with the exception being dejun, and maybe hendery.

"great actually, thanks." you slide back into your spot on the booth, only slightly cramped with the amount of people sharing one area.

hendery lands a punch on the guy's arm, "watch how you speak to our princess." a smirk picks up on the guy's lips as hendery finishes his sentence, his tongue poking into the crevice of his cheek.

and just as quickly as the attention turned to you, it leaves you even faster. comments are thrown around about the female bartender.

"hendery, i'll give you £100 if you don't ask for her number tonight," someone chimed.

hendery quickly steals a glance at his phone before returning his eyes to the bettor, "i guess we're not leaving until after midnight, then." he sits back, throwing an arm around the girl next to him.

dejun makes his way back, hands holding as many shots as he could—which was 8. not all of them were filled equally, which you can only assume was attributed to dejun's bumping into people as he was on his way back. the small glasses were filled with a somewhat cloudy liquid. everyone picked up a shot as he set them down on the glass table, including you.

"to xiaojun bankrolling us!" a voice chirped up with a glass in the air. everyone else followed with a chorus of cheers, clinking the shots together before tipping their heads back and downing it.

as you swallow, there's a hint of sweetness from the melon flavour but the vodka is inescapable. you can feel it travel all the way with a burn down your oesophagus until it settles in your stomach, a heat spreading from it.

...

the overwhelming boom of the music does not phase you anymore. you are past the point of hazy where the only thing you can comprehend is what is immediately happening in front of you. object permanence? gone.

for the past few hours, you and the rest of the group you came here with downed shot after shot, drank beer after beer. no matter how high your tolerance was, tonight definitely pushed you over that line.

"xiaojun!" you shout across to your friend at the bar. he acknowledges you with a quick wave of his hand.

the others have their arms around each other's shoulders, foundering as they approach the exit. you lean against one of the walls right in front of the fog machine, waiting for dejun.

"come on, yn!" one of the girls shout, grabbing your wrist in her hands and linking you to the rest of the group. dejun finally makes his way back over, and instinctually you fling an arm around him, too.

the bunch of you look ridiculous; grown adults stumbling their way out of a club in the dark. half present smiles seemingly glued onto your faces. all of you count together as one by one, you take the couple of steps down onto the pavement.

once back on the street, you open your eyes to more than just a squint. the road looks the same as before. time has no effect on this district, neon signs still alight with strangers roaming the streets at any hour of the day. you bask in the warm orange glow of the lamp post directly above you, and you scan around for dejun's suv.

and that's when you see something across the road.

a tall, lean figure slanted against the hood of a car. you recognise his posture all too well.

oh shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

you'd gotten so carried away tonight that you completely forgot that you weren't even supposed to be here. the drinks flushed every doubt, every worry out of your mind. it is only when your eyes see sicheng standing right across the road from you, and your mind consciously registers that, that every thing you tried to forget comes rushing back to you.

"xiaojun," you mutter under your breath, but he's not entirely in it, either.

sicheng spots the group of you, head tilted, and that's the moment he recognises you, in an outfit he'd never seen you in before, around people that he has seen before. he pushes himself off of the hood and crosses the road. you have exactly 3 seconds before you're done for.

the night is blustery, gentle, but breezy nonetheless. he's wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. as he's making his way towards you, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

sicheng takes 3 steps onto the pavement that you're on, and you are met face to face with the guard that you attempted to escape tonight. he quickly eyes the rest of your group, too drunk to even comprehend what is happening and who he is. a misstep happens and three of them stumble, fall, and stack on top of one another. they laugh it off.

he returns his gaze to you. "miss ln."

it's magical the way you suddenly feel sober. confrontation is one hell of an antidote. "listen," you breathe out. but it's no use, even you know it.

sicheng spares you no pity. "shall we head home?"

you don't know what you prefer: him still being cool and calm and collected, or have him be so seethingly furious with you like your father would be. in that moment, you decide that his reaction is much worse. how can he stand there with the state of you like this and still ask such a question with a steeled face? does he not care?

you look over to dejun, who has now walked around you to help his other friends get up.

trying to make up your mind whether to plead your case in that moment, there is something else that you can decide easier. going home with sicheng. there's no use fighting it, and frankly, you didn't want to. so, you take a step, passing by where sicheng stood in front of you, and then another, and until you're across the road about to get into the car. your friends left on the curb—they'll manage, you figured.

your body can't help but shake as you step into the passenger seat. a jittery feeling overtakes you. do you explain? do you not? what even is the explanation?

sicheng gets into the driver seat. he turns on the engine, back up from the parking spot, and begins to drive off, doing this all without a word.

you steal a glance over at him, not wanting to appear too sheepish. a sudden apologetic sentiment freezes your body, but that same feeling quickly turns sour. you open your mouth to speak, but no noise leaves you. quickly, you snap your head back around and lean against the window. the quietness of the car ride has you feeling all the effects of the events tonight.

"you didn't think i'd know?"

your eyes shift over. sicheng's focus is entirely on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins on his arms are prominent under the moonlight. he might not sound angry, but his body language gives it away.

"no, i thought..." you take a deep breath in. "i don't know what i thought," you finally admit.

if he'd heard your answer, he gave no indication of it. he continues driving, fingers still clenched tightly around the wheel. his silence lingers around for a good few minutes. no music, nothing; just the sound of the friction of the tyres speeding against tarmac.

"if something had happened to you, do you know what that means? for all of us?" he asks, in a tone that's more or less condescending.

you stay quiet—you didn't see a point in arguing your case. or maybe it was just the alcohol taking the fight out of you, the steady rocking of the ride seem to begin to lull you to sleep.

the rest of the car ride home was silent. sicheng's grip never loosened. and you can tell none of his frustration dissipated by the way he slammed the car door shut.

as noiselessly as possible, the two of you slide in through the main doors into the foyer. you pull on the heels of your boots to take them off, struggling with your balance slightly. as you're about to make your way up to your room with your boots in your hands, sicheng stops you with one statement.

"i won't tell your father."

you turn, feeling a disjointed mix of emotions. you're relieved, but confused...? and grateful, but suspicious. "why?" you bluntly ask, questioning his ulterior motives if he has any.

sicheng takes a deep breath in and rolls his head to his left side. he takes a single step towards you. the rest of the house is dark, the only light being from the two sconces on either sides of the foyer. as he looks into your eyes, his irises are two swirling rings of mystery. you can never guess what he's thinking.

"because it won't look good on either one of us," he whispers. "if you wanted to go out, you could've just told me and i would've helped you," he added, now with a certain softness breaking into his gaze.

your focus shifts from one eye to the other. sicheng can read every wrinkle in your brow and every glint of confusion in your stare. what are you supposed to make of the fact that the man your father hired to watch you like a hawk is willing to help you get up to things your father will never approve of?

"but why?"

it's as if the drinks had broken down your every guard, every filter that you're so used to imposing on yourself. the bluntness in your tone is something even you didn't recognise.

"tonight proved that you would sneak out regardless of circumstances. so, why not tell me so i can at least keep you as safe as i can?"

sicheng finds himself exploring every inch of your face with his gaze, studying the smudged eyeliner and lipstick on you, before meeting your eyes again. he continues, "i have a job to do, you know?"

it seems as though you're not the only one with a broken down barrier. the formality in which he normally speaks with is nowhere to be heard.

"and why should i trust you?" there's an edge in your voice that makes the question come out as offensive. "i can't," you quickly add before he even has a chance to reply.

and now it's his turn to be stumped. your sudden change in attitude evokes a return of the wince in his eyebrows. "what do you mean?" he falters.

"i heard you yesterday." your head shakes, the clear of your eyes glisten with a lack of faith. "what am i supposed to think of you when you're actively hiding something from me?"

it's like a wave of realisation hits sicheng. he recalls the phone call that he took yesterday, and realises what you must've overheard. it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts together.

"you can't possibly think that i would want to harm you."

"i don't know you!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too loud for this hour. "you waltz into my life and tell me that you're trying to save me, but i don't know you."

sicheng exhales and drops his head. his chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep lungful of air. "i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want you to feel... betrayed."

your body language communicates all there is to say. you urge him to go on with a shake of your head and a furrowing in your eyebrows.

"we have reason to believe that..." his voice is small, and soft, as if he's laying down cushioning for telling a child that santa claus isn't real. "the person threatening you runs in your immediate coterie."

your friends. that's what he's hinting at, that's what he's explicitly telling you right now. that possibly someone you went out with tonight have reason to threaten you. sicheng thought that telling you now would diffuse the situation, but in fact, it does the opposite.

"isn't that all the more reason for me to know? and you hid it from me for w-"

"yn," he corrects his slip of words, "miss ln." he cuts you off ever so calmly, "i understand that emotions are heightened right now. i think it's best we talk in the morning."

a knot works its way up into your own chest. your frustration is fuelled even more by his coolness. you stare at his ridiculously poised expression, and in that moment, you give up trying to argue.

you finally begin to walk up the stairs, with your boots still in your hands, ready to crash and give out onto your bed.

you wake up the next morning, or rather the same morning, with a throbbing pain in your head. one of your ears feels blocked and no matter what you do to try and make it so that noise isn't muffled as it filters into your ear, it doesn't work.

in the bathroom, you stare at your reflection and are in shock over how badly you removed your makeup last night. eyeliner stains the corners of your eyelids, patches of concealer are still on the sides of your face. you turn on the faucet, wait for it to become warmer, and scrub the remainder of the products off of your face.

in the midst of washing your face, you realise that you haven't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon, as signalled by a grumbling in your stomach.

as discreetly as possible, you try to get out of your room, taking a gentle step out onto the hallway. you're not entirely sure why you needed to be stealthy, perhaps it's just the aftereffects of last night.

however, your plan to be concealed quickly falls to shambles as sicheng is, as always, guarding your door outside and your father is walking down the hallway heading in your direction. your heart starts to beat faster and faster; if sicheng didn't stick by his words last night then you are dead for all you know. that conversation you had in the foyer didn't leave your mind even for a second when you tried to fall asleep earlier, and you plan on following up on that talk he offered you.

your father reaches your room and stops to take one look at you.

"goodmorning, father." you utter. a tinge of sheepishness can't help but crawl onto the apples of your cheeks.

"goodmorning, dear," he stretches a warm smile directed towards you, and gives a simple nod of the head to sicheng.

so he didn't lie. that's the first thought following your relief that your father isn't absolutely furious with you. you glance at sicheng as your father walks past you continuing his way down the hallway. he flashes you an expression, one that says, 'what did i tell you?'

sicheng keeps his eyes on your father and as soon as he's out of earshot, he mutters, "surprised?"

a look of almost disbelief takes over you. the nerve on this guy. your heart almost jumped out of your chest and he has the cockiness to make a remark like that.

"stop fucking with me. you still owe me an explanation."

sicheng says with a simple shrug, "i've told you everything i know."

before you can speak back and challenge him, one of your housemaids yell out your name from the foyer.

you quickly make your way downstairs with sicheng following right behind you.

you spot priscilla kneeling down to pick up a package left right in front of the doors to the house. "what is it, priscilla?" you ask, as she begins to stand up again.

"i'm not sure—but it's addressed to you, miss," she responds, reading the tag tied to the parcel with a thin ribbon.

it's odd enough that a package made its way directly onto your doorsteps since the mail that you and your father receive are usually intercepted and collected at the mail room, or placed into your father's study. it's even more strange that it's directly addressed to you with your name typed and printed out in a sans-serif font.

you hold the box in one hand as your other goes to unravel the ribbon. you pull the knot through, and the box undoes itself. the 4 walls fall down revealing another note with your name on it, this time handwritten in a sparkly, gold paint.

you pick the note up and twirl it around with your fingers. sure enough, there's a message for you on the back. it looks like it was typed out on a traditional typewriter, it reads: "next time, i'll have your pretty head along with it" signed with kisses.

you suck in a sharp breath, a shock dawning on you. you look down at the opened box, under the note was a cushioning of tissue paper along with one earring. it took you a few seconds to study the singular earring, then it hits you: the pearl earring that you lost at the gala. your fingers begin to tremble, and sicheng watches as you're overcome with theories and conclusions.

he snatches the note from your hands, eyes scanning every word hastily and sees the earring in the box. it doesn't take him time to put two and two together.

immediately, he voices, "priscilla, did you see who left this outside?"

"no, uh, i opened the door because there was a knock and as soon as i saw the parcel with miss ln's name on it, i called for her." priscilla is evidently taken aback by the sharpness of sicheng's voice. her gestures are overt as she explains the situation.

sicheng pulls his phone out and his thumbs slide over the bottom part of his screen as he swiftly sends out a message.

he turns to you, "i'll go look over security footage right now. yn, go back up to your room." he motions over at priscilla as if to tell her that you needed to be escorted upstairs.

usually, you wouldn't just blindly listen to what anyone tells you, but your mind is running at 100 miles per hour. you recognise that gold paint, the writing, the flicks and hairline strokes that stylised your name. you've received a note from the same person before. only that last time, it wasn't as explicit a threat as it is this time.

...

you haven't stepped foot out of your room since sicheng told you to go back this morning. your maids have come up with breakfast and lunch earlier, but now it's well past dinner time, and the food outside your door remains untouched. the sky outside is darkening, with some rogue streaks of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

nonstop, you've been thinking it over and over in your head. putting together what sicheng told you and what you know yourself. someone close enough to you is threatening your life—but why? sure, there's the obvious reason that in a matter of days, you may possibly take over your father's title of mayor, but who would risk so much to send you a petty note? and everyone in your circle has a good enough status; what would they have to gain from this? surely, there's a blind spot that you must be missing.

your train of thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a knock at your door.

"come in!"

sicheng walks in to find you curled up in bed, knees tucked against your chest. he glances backwards briefly before closing the door behind him, "you didn't eat?"

"i'm not hungry."

you notice that he's not wearing his usual attire. a thin t-shirt covers his torso, and his regular slack pants are replaced by loose-fitting joggers. his footsteps are muted as he approaches you. there seems to be a debate in his mind whether or not he should be approaching you as he stops with at least 10 feet of space in between you and him.

"did you need me for something?" you mutter, patience thinning out on the edge of your voice.

you watch as he opens his mouth, but a response fails to be conjured up without a pause. "no, i just wanted to check on you."

you throw your blanket off of your feet and push yourself off the bed. the distance that sicheng left between the two of you disappears as you draw nearer to him.

you're not entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you look up at him and he returns your gaze. a breath hitches within you that you try your best to stifle. a knot forms in your throat and you swallow hard, dropping your eyes from sicheng.

"hey," he murmurs airily, bringing his hand up to your face. sicheng stops just short of cupping your face in his palms. you reach for his hand, taking it into your own, and he takes that as a sign to delicately graze your cheek with the side of his thumb. the lightness of his touch floats over your skin. "you're okay," he reassures you with a whisper.

it's hard to pinpoint what it is that you're feeling. there were books and lessons when you were growing up on how to be well-mannered, how to hone in your etiquettes, but there were never any rulebooks to teach you how to feel. especially, in a situation like this. how do we know if there's a right way to process our complexities?

you lean into sicheng's touch. "what can i do for you right now?" his tone coming off as a genuine offer of comfort, rather than him sounding like he is indebted to you.

finally, you lift your head, eyes running up against sicheng until it lands onto his again. "just stay with me tonight," though you meant it as a statement, bordering on an order, it ekes out of you with an uncertainty.

he nods, mouthing a soft 'okay.'

with his hand in your grip, you lead him to the edge of your bed. you can feel the hesitance in him, but he doesn't outright stop in his tracks. sliding into your covers, you shuffle over to make room for sicheng. admittedly, he didn't think this was what you meant when you asked him to stay with you tonight. he thought that he would just spend another night in the chair next to your bed, like he did before, but no.

you sit up against the headboard.

"you're... comfortable with this?" his voice is softer than dusk.

you nod, and with that, he slowly slides into your bed, a respectable distance between the two of you.

sicheng lays on his back, one hand behind his hand as you shift closer to him. though he tries his best to hide it on his face, the beating of his heart gives him away when you lay a hand over on his chest.

he rolls onto the arm closer to you, now face to face with you on the bed, leaving your hand in front of his chest on the mattress. he looks at you with a lustre in his eyes, the strong arches of his brows soften and his eyelids flutter.

you're close enough that you can hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel the warmth of his body against you. your fingers inch back onto his chest, running over the fabric of his shirt delicately, and onto his jawline. the tips of your index finger skim the contour of his chin, and up along his cheekbone. your eyes follow your fleeting touch against his face when it runs back down to the corner of his lips.

there's a few seconds in between you inching closer and closer to sicheng, and him whispering.

"we can't."

you stop—your breathing stops as well.

though you don't voice it out loud, the look in your eyes expresses every ounce of regret that you feel. your hand stiffens on sicheng's face, your fingers resting on the edge of his jaw.

his gaze flickers in between your eyes and your lips. it stays on your lips for a moment longer.

"i can't kiss you like we're lovers, when we're not."

the last three words slip out from his lips breathier than the rest.

you draw your body even closer to sicheng's, until there's only a sliver of empty space in between you.

"then, don't kiss me."

you plant a soft peck on his bare neck, and he can't bite back the tiny hum he lets slip. your lips stick to the warmth of his skin, a saltiness to it mixed with the clean scent of his cologne. simultaneously, he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers laid flat on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

his hand runs down the side of you, finding a spot on your waist which he grips onto tighter. your teeth grazes against a vein in his neck and a groan catches in his throat.

your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they start swaying forwards, colliding with sicheng's thighs. "what are you doing to me?" he mumbles under his breath, so faintly that you nearly couldn't make it out over your own humming against his neck.

sicheng is overtaken by instinct. his hand find its way between your thighs, sliding up and down over the softness of your skin. you can't help the purrs of approval that tumble out of you involuntarily.

his fingers trace soft, soft rings on the inside of your thighs, stopping just an inch below the hem of your shorts. whatever you've started, you needed to have more of it. you pull your lips away from him and wrap your fingers around his wrist that hovered so close to the heat pooling underneath you. if he wasn't going to touch you, you'd rather have him not tease you at all.

sicheng looks at you through half-lidded eyes with a faint tug on his lips, "put my hand where you want it."

you drag his hand an inch upwards, and almost naturally, sicheng finds his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shorts. "fuck," he breathes out. "you're not wearing anything underneath?" you smirk, unable to say anything because if you did, he would know how insane the raspiness in his voice drove you.

the tips of his fingers trace along the folds of your cunt, smearing your wetness all over. your breath escapes you shakily, and he revels at the sight of you. god. he knew you were pretty but you've never looked prettier than when you're squirming under his touch.

he rubs a loose circle around your clit with his middle finger, eyes steadily watching your every expression. your whole body is electrified. you feel as though you've come alive just from his touch. then, he draws another. you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing at a constant. the hand that you have wrapped around his wrist untightens itself and it runs up sicheng's arm, nails digging themselves into his bicep as his fingers move faster and faster on you.

then, they slow right back down. your eyelids shutter open fully, looking at him watching you with a gentleness.

he eases one finger inside of you, engulfed into your warmth. a gasp falls upon you quickly followed by a moan, which sicheng muffles with his other hand. he shushes, "you can hold it in, can't you?" you nod your head against his hand covering your lips. so badly, you want to just scream out his name, but you can't.

then, he slides another finger inside. the two of them drag up and down your heated walls, coated in a slickness. you struggle to keep from sounding out noises that ultimately gets caught in your throat. you pull his hand down from your mouth, managing a breathy, "fuck, sicheng."

he continues shushing you, balanced out with a subdued, "i know, i know." the length of his fingers carries on diving deeper and deeper into you, his thumb working small loops on your clit. you can't help but grind down against his hand, meeting him halfway with every stroke. your own fingers replaces his thumb, rubbing so relentlessly that it makes you throw your head back.

you begin to feel a tightening in your core. each moan that comes out of you is strained and muffled, your sealed lips pressing together so hard that it starts to become numb. "i'm so close," you try to voice out but a broken string of whimpers fall out instead.

your knees impulsively push themselves together, trapping sicheng's hand in between your thighs. "yeah, like that, baby. just like that," he picks up the pace in which he plunges his fingers in and out of you, "keep it quiet, though, okay?"

at this point, you've lost focus on what he's saying. the only thing on your mind is how good his fingers feel inside of you, and the violent pressure that your own fingers are exerting isn't helping. your arm is starting to ache when you finally begin to feel the release in your core. the knot tied in your stomach falls apart and so do you. your hand stops and grabs onto sicheng's wrist again. each moan that's knocked out of you quickly transitions into you panting for air. all sicheng can do is caress your cheek as you slowly come down and steady yourself again against his embrace.

you lay there next to him as you're catching your breath. sicheng comforts you with words that you can't quite hear. you take his hand up to your face, fully shutting your legs together, and lick the slickness off of his fingers. he watches you with a groan as you take his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. you pull his hand away slowly, and when your lips close together, he lets go of a deep sigh.

sicheng looks deeply into your eyes, the faintest trace of satisfaction visible on his face. "get some rest now, okay?"

a part of you doesn't want to just stop now, but the other part of you is worn out beyond repair, not just from this. your post-orgasm crash wears over you like a spell putting you to sleep, and you have no will left to fight it. so, before you know it, you drift off to sleep with sicheng's arms wrapped tightly around you and your face pressed up against his chest.

he wasn't supposed to and he wasn't planning to, but sicheng dozed off last night with you cuddled up against him. the only thought running through his head this morning: i fucked up. and that's only taking into account that he literally slept with you next to him.

the chorus of bird chirps sounds aloud from out in the garden. the bright symphonies fill the morning air.

as slowly as he can, he pulls his arm back from underneath you, a tingling feeling spreading from where your head laid upon it. hushedly, he slides his legs off of the edge of the bed, trying not to wake you. he stands up, and his movements are halted by a hum from you.

your eyes peer open, and sicheng is glancing back at you. "morning," he clears his throat, "i didn't want to wake you."

"it's alright," your voice scratches. you push yourself onto your palms and sit up, straightening your back. "um," you stutter out, looking around your bed to avoid any eye contact. there's an unspoken tension between you and sicheng that you can sense right away.

sicheng presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand and echoes your filler words.

you want to ask out loud, 'why is it so awkward?' but that will probably do nothing to help ease the atmosphere.

sicheng breaks the silence, "i shouldn't have... came in last night."

your eyes dart towards him, but he's looking down at your sheets. is it bad that you felt a sinking in your chest right as he said that? you didn't think you regretted what happened, but maybe you should given what sicheng's stance on it is.

"i don't..." you trail off, unable to finish the rest of your thought.

"it was my mistake. we don't... have to talk about it."

"is that what it was to you? a mistake?" words take over you before your rational thinking can catch up. if you really slowed down and thought it over, his words probably didn't warrant as much of a reaction, but in the moment, you're hurt and that's all you can focus on.

"no, i mean," sicheng struggles to find the proper words to expand on his point. as he opens his mouth again to speak, he's interrupted by someone else knocking at your door.

the knock is closely followed by a call out of your name, "miss ln!"

it distracts you from the conversation, but sicheng's comment is actively sitting on the back burner of your mind. "yes?" you return.

"your father has arranged some prior engagements for you. your chauffeur is waiting for whenever you're ready."

you can't help but let out your frustration in the form of a quiet 'ugh,' before going back and thanking the messenger, which they then dismiss themselves.

you're not in the mood for whatever errand your father has arranged for you. one, because your body is so physically tired out for some reason that even getting up out of bed will take a substantial amount of effort, and two, sicheng will follow you to whatever activity and there won't be a conclusion to this conversation you're having because there's no way you're willing to discuss this in public.

sicheng speaks up after the footsteps travel away from outside your bedroom door, "i'll leave you to get ready."

"don't-"

but sicheng completely disregards you, and leaves you alone in your room.

...

turns out that the 'errand' your father has planned for you was to pick out a few outfits from the atelier. this past week you've been so preoccupied busying yourself with activities that you haven't fully recognised that your father will officially announce you as his successor in a couple days' time. that means more responsibilities, more problems. you don't know if you're fully prepared for it, but it was never up to you; it never has been.

you posed like a mannequin for the seamstress for a good couple of hours. every blazer and every skirt being tailored to fit you perfectly. sicheng sat in the beige couch in the corner watching patiently as she took in your measurements, held up garment after garment up to you in the mirror, and finally was content with what she had created for you.

by the time you were done, you had a handful of bags in each hand, each containing a new bespoke outfit made just for you.

you're walking out of the studio with your new belongings in your hands, sicheng opening the door for you. the designer bids you an affectionate goodbye and you step out onto the concrete, heading for your ride parked in the middle of the lot.

during the whole of this visit, sicheng hasn't said a word to you. and vice versa. so when he's the first to say something, you try to look at him with an indifference in your expression.

"let me carry the bags," he offers.

"i'm alright, thank you."

you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit upset with him. although you knew there's nothing to be achieved from petty displays of stubbornness, you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine: his nonchalance, and frankly apathetic attitude.

he doesn't challenge you, perhaps he knows better than to do exactly that. his footsteps trail behind you as you approach the car. your chauffeur pulls open the door to the backseats for you before returning to the driver's seat. sicheng simply observes as you begin to load in the bags, not wanting to tick you off even more by helping.

he catches a flare in the mirror image of the window panes all the way up on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swivels his head around, looking directly at where the spark was in the reflection. his throat tightens.

"yn, get in the car." the calmness in his voice wasn't something you weren't used to, but as you turn and find him fixated at a spot up on a roof, an alarm starts ringing in your head. "now."

you jump up onto the ledge of the footboard and hop inside with a slight panic. sicheng grabs all the remaining bags and throws it in with you. he hastily slams the back door shut and turns his focus towards that same spot again. you can barely see out of the tinted panes, but you think you hear a distant pop and sicheng's body jerks, curving his spine inwards. he clambers into the front seat, a hint of franticness in his movements. the passenger door shuts with a crash and sicheng flings his head back against the headrest.

"drive. go, now." he tells the chauffeur, clearly in a state of confusion, but he listens to sicheng. his voice is weak and breathy, like he just ran a marathon.

you push your way up to the space in between the front seats. "sicheng... what happened?" apprehension sounding out in your words.

he gives a faint shake of the head, his hand gripping tightly onto the fabric over his shoulder as he swallows a lump in his throat. you mutter a faint, 'oh my god,' under your breath as you go to pull his hand away.

sicheng breathes deeper and deeper. you uncover a small hole in his shirt, the edges splayed out with raw threads hanging off of it.

"sicheng-"

"i'm okay," he exhales. does he know how ridiculous he sounds?

a wave of distress suddenly overtakes you. "you're-"

"don't worry, i'm okay."

half of your mind has gone blank, and the other half is still stuck in 5 minutes ago before whatever happened, happened. words tumble out of you, laced with confusion and unease.

...

as soon as you arrive home, you barge in telling your housemaids to call over your doctor. sicheng has one arm wrapped around the chauffeur as he inches in with his help, his other arm limp by his side.

everything blurs past you.

sicheng is set down on the long leather couch, laying against the arm as he holds his shoulder. someone pushes past you to tend to sicheng's injuries, and all you can do is stand and stare.

...

you sit on the other end of the couch watching as the nurse is wrapping bandage around sicheng's shoulder, his torso completely bare. he grunts as she pulls tighter on the strip looping underneath his arm.

"you're lucky it didn't hit you in the ribs, or it'd be a lot worse."

sicheng mutters a soft, 'i know,' sucking in a steady breath.

the bullet sits in a tray next to the couch, completely clean, the light ricochets off of it and it gleams.

you look back over to sicheng, a deep burgundy already seeping its way underneath his skin. if it weren't for the bulletproof undershirt he was wearing, you'd be looking at admitting him into the ER. still, he's not completely devoid of any injuries.

the nurse said that aside from bruising, he had a fracture to his collarbone. "it should heal on its own anywhere in between 6 to 12 weeks."

you nod, and she gives you a brief smile before she helps fasten the sling around sicheng's neck and begins packing up her kit.

several sets of footsteps approach the doorway to the guest room that sicheng was set down in. you don't look over, eyes fixated on sicheng as he winces at any slight movement that he does affecting his injured collarbone.

the footsteps move in closer and closer to you. sicheng hears them as well and opens his eyes. "sir," he manages gravelly.

you and the nurse simultaneously look up, and there you see your father with his assistant a few steps behind him. he nods towards the nurse.

"the doctor couldn't make it on such short notice, but mr. dong's injuries are mild. i've already informed miss ln of mr. dong's condition," the nurse explains to your father.

"thank you for your help," your father tells the nurse. she picks up the kit that she brought with her and bows her head before leaving the room.

the expression on your father's face is ambiguous to say the least.

sicheng takes your father's silence as an opportunity, "i should've been more careful. i'm sorry..."

your father inhales shakily, "it was too close, yes." he looks over at you sitting on the couch, then back at sicheng, "but yn wasn't injured, and i have you to thank for that."

"it's my duty," sicheng simply responds.

your father gives him a satisfied smile. "take some time to rest, i'll have someone else look over your responsibilities for now."

with that, your father and his assistant leaves you and sicheng alone in the guest room, now allocated for his recovery.

you haven't said a word to him since the car ride back.

you sit on the edge of the couch, palms planted flat on either side of you. "does it hurt?" you look over, and sicheng leans on the sofa back, his injured arm suspended in a black mesh sling. his eyes are closed as he takes in a heavy breath after another.

he opens his eyes up to a squint, glancing over at you. "a bit," you think he's gone insane when you see a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

you shift over towards sicheng, his unwounded shoulder being closer to you. the bandages the nurse had wrapped him up in doesn't entirely cover up his bruising. a gradient of pink, red, and purple spreads over atop his pecs. your fingers trace over his abdomen, hovering when you draw near his injury. "you scared me," you whisper.

"i know," sicheng says, "i'm sorry."

"why would you do that?"

he looks at you, a dazedness in his eyes, "do what?"

"take a bullet like that." you gulp, feeling the coarseness in your throat.

sicheng expels a weak chuckle. "to be honest, i didn't think i would." you peer at him with a tilt of your head. "i was so focused on you not getting hurt, but now that i think about it..."

he trails off.

"what?" you prompt gently.

"i don't think they were aiming at you."

your eyebrows raise themselves gingerly.

"i mean, they had every opportunity to... shoot you, but they didn't. with the time it took me to even notice them, they could've gotten the job done and vanished."

you realise what sicheng's implying. and you suppose he is right. thinking it over in your head, your reaction wasn't the fastest, given the state of shock and confusion that you were in. so, that means they were gunning for sicheng. but why?

he carries on, "and with where the bullet hit me—it was nowhere even near where you were stood." he shakes his head, "it just doesn't make sense."

"so, why?"

"i mean, i don't-"

"no. why would you ever risk yourself like this? a job like this; it surely isn't the first time you got injured."

sicheng looks at your face, so painstakingly close to his. he runs his good hand through your hair, twirling the ends of a strand in between his fingers. "it's not," he smiles weakly, but falls short of an answer to give to you.

you swallow hard. "you know, you've made it clear to me countless times that you're supposed to keep me safe... but who looks after you?"

"i can manage myself."

"i know—you're more than capable. but..." the words you're speaking has to be dragged out of you, a broken intonation. "that's not the same as looking after yourself."

he drops his gaze from yours, fingers now fidgeting and cracking his knuckles as a means of escape from this conversation.

"you don't let me kiss you, you want to forget whatever we did and dismiss it as a mistake. that's fine, but is that what you want, or is it just your guard?"

he turns his head towards yours, but still avoiding eye contact with you. for a moment, you thought he would say something, but he doesn't.

you sigh.

"just let me take care of you while your shoulder heals, okay? i'm here."

you're about to push yourself off of the couch, you lean back, but sicheng holds onto your hand. he draws you in to the spot you were at before. your faces inches apart from each other.

he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, "kiss me."

your heartbeat drums against your lungs. you slide your fingers up onto his face, pulling him in closer. and gently, you oblige.

his lips fit yours perfectly, as if you were both individually sculpted for each other. you try not to lean onto sicheng given his injury, so the most pressure you put on him is through your hands pulling him closer into you. you press your mouth against the softness of his lips, a tenderness to his movements. he breathes your scent in, and it's like it completely soothes the sharpness in his shoulder. you take him in deeper and deeper. his lips had a hint of peppermint to them, but sweeter. he let you utterly devour him against your own lips, fuelling a desire you didn't know you had in you. god, you didn't want to pull away, but your stupid, stupid lungs had to regather some air within them. and you part from him with a gentle smack.

sicheng's eyelids flutter open, like you'd just woken him from a dream. "if your father ever finds out-"

you shush him with a finger up to his mouth. and you attach your lips onto his again.

you're deep into your sleep when you hear alerts coming in nonstop on your phone. you stayed in sicheng's room with him; he's asleep on the bed and you've decided to give him more room by taking the couch. you open your eyes groggily, the sky outside doesn't make it clear to you what time it is. reaching out onto the coffee table, your phone doesn't stop buzzing in your hand.

the brightness of the screen causes you to squint. messages roll in, from dejun. without reading the notifications first, you click onto the grey bubbles. a litter of text threads open up on your phone. ones reading, "are you okay?" and "i heard what happened," and of the like.

stiffly, you go to type in a response. you tell dejun that you're fine, briefly glossing over the situation.

...

the second time you wake up this morning is when you hear sicheng talking to someone just outside of his room, the conversation muffled. he shuffles back in and you're more or less glaring at him, unintentionally.

"who was that?" you strain.

"um," he lightly massages the back of his neck. "they... found the shooter. and he talked."

that instantly catches your attention. you sit up straight, and signal to sicheng to take a seat next to you on the couch.

he slowly paces himself over, his back kept upright the entire time as he sits down next to you.

"the shooter is no one special, but," he begins, an almost sheepish look on him, "he told us who sent him. and we think that it's the same person who sent you that note, with your earring."

"who?" you jump in, impatient for him to tell you.

sicheng looks into your eyes for a split second. the sky outside is still dark. half of your face is lit by the orange ember that glows out from the fireplace.

"who?" you repeated, this time a little bit louder.

"i don't know how close you are to her. rin? full name, rina lee. her dad... owed some debts to your father."

your brows furrow. rin? you've only met her once, and that was at mrs. xiao's gala. what would prompt her to threaten you to such an extreme?

"i'm sorry, it must be-"

"no- what else do you know?"

sicheng sucks in a quick breath. "well, it's rumoured that her father, mr. lee, took a loan from your father. it was never paid back... and let's say your father didn't like that."

you didn't know what to make of your emotions—what to make of yourself. did you deserve this?

subconsciously, you start shaking your head lightly. you were in denial, but of what, you didn't know.

"i'm sorry," is all sicheng can say to provide you with some semblance of solace.

"i just..." you breathe out a heavy breath, "i can't believe it."

"i know, but it'll be over, soon. you'll take on your father's role tomorrow, isn't that something to look forward to?" sicheng tries his best to divert your focus away from the news.

you scoff. and then a sigh.

"i guess."

sicheng runs a hand over your head, smoothing over your hair, "let's go back to sleep, it's still early."

the whole of yesterday you spent getting ready, signing agreements, and attending meeting after meeting with your father. you'd spent the night before tossing and turning, unsure of if you'd be happy with this route that you're headed in.

last night, you were doing the same. tossing, turning, thinking. you never really had a choice, and it's weird how you feel apathetic towards that.

you've always lived comfortably and maybe you're just not ready for that to change yet, that's what you thought to yourself.

you woke up this morning, still a bit shaken up, mind still fuzzied from how your life has spiralled seemingly out of your control over the last week.

and now you're standing behind the drawn back curtain to the balcony, where your father's speech is being broadcasted live.

"serving as mayor to this beautiful district has been one of my greatest prides. but i'm afraid people grow old, and i am experiencing that for myself first hand."

your father's voice wavers, and it stings your cheeks a little.

"nonetheless, i know there has been rumours going around surrounding my retirement. i would like to keep this concise. today, i am officially stepping down as the mayor of district V, and appointing my daughter to serve the rest of my term." he turns towards you, hand stretching out in your direction, and you step out onto the landing.

your father steps aside to grant you some space on the podium. you take a deep breath in, before crouching down slightly to speak into the microphone.

"it is my honour to be appointed the role of mayor for a district as notable and celebrated as district V." you recite the script that your father's assistant had written for you, the syllables drilled into your brain throughout all the practices yesterday.

you remember the words that the assistant had said to you, 'this district's citizens don't care much for politics. they just want to know if they can continue living in their merry way as they did before.'

"i will see to it that this transition is as seamless as possible, and i will do my best to humbly serve each and every citizen to the best of my ability. thank you."

you back away from the podium and disappear off where it is visible on the landing. your father continues on delivering the rest of his spiel.

it's been less than a minute since you've officially accepted your new position, but you can already feel a tightening around your chest. you plop down on a chair all the way on the opposite end of the balcony, thinking it over again. is this what you want?

that's when you catch sicheng peering into the room from the hallway.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting," you jump up onto your feet.

"i didn't get to see you yesterday, so i thought i should at least congratulate you today."

you sigh, and plaster a grin onto your face, "thank you."

sicheng takes one step closer to you. "so, miss mayor, i suppose i'm no longer at your service?"

slowly, you can feel a genuine smile twinging at your lips, "you wish." you swiftly glance over at where your father is, back still facing you. you steal a quick peck from sicheng. he looks at you with his eyes wild.

"what?" you tease.

even though you're not sure the path given to you is what you want, you know that as long as sicheng is by your side, you'll manage to find joy in the little moments. the stolen kisses. and the fleeting glances.

and it's not for ever, anyway. just until this term ends.

"you are now under me," you whisper with a smirk.

humming, he raises his eyebrows with interest. "so, what's the first order of business?"

you roll your eyes. "focus on healing your shoulder up, and then we'll talk."

he leans in closer to your face, a cheeky spark in his eyes. "yes, ma'am."

thank you for reading between heaven and hell ! this fic is a part of a series which you can learn more about here ! hope you enjoyed :)

330 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 4 months

Text

backburner // q.k

kun x reader

"hey, i want that"

i told him while pointing at the lonely chips bag lying flat in the shelf on front of me.

it seems like people did not bother to buy it today, i don't know if it's because they don't like the flavor or it's just gonna expire soon.

either way, i'll take it home 'cause I pity it. like how i should be for myself.

"take it if you want it, i'll pay for it anyway" he mumbled the last part, and I chuckled.

and then suddenly i jumped on his back and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"you serious?" i asked as I squished my cheek onto his.

"get off me" he said while quietly laughing, pushing me off his back, conscious that the few customers there could see us like that.

so I granted his wish and hopped down. i'm still smiling.

"yeah, i'm serious, just take what you want..." he said while continuing to roam around the aisles.

and so i got what i want...

"how about you? are you going to get something?"

"i'm good with this" he lifted the coca-cola can in his right hand.

We walked towards the sleepy cashier near the exit, suddenly jolting up when he heard the sound of the can landing on the marbled counter.

then i started staring at his face while he fishes for his brown wallet in his jeans' pocket.

and i stared.

"hey, let's leave now" kun snapped his fingers on front me, stopping me from staring at him too much.

he's used to it. i'm used to it. so it doesn't really matter i guess...

he was about to lead me out of the store, carrying the paper bag, when suddenly raindrops started pouring.

"shit, let's just stay here for a while..." he told me, pushing me gently back inside the store.

i said nothing as I went back to looking at his face.

"you know, your staring won't change anything between us..." he finally looked at me, then looked out the glass window walls to see if the rain finally stops.

"i'm sorry i can't help it, it just gets worse everytime i'm with you..." i mumbled the last part.

suddenly, the floor is so pretty to look at.

i felt that he looked at me again, taking a long pause before saying the next brutal words for me.

"you know i'll never be in love with you, right?"

shit. uhh, that hurts. like really fucking hurts.

i nodded in agreement.

"i hate that you keep torturing yourself for this..." he said to me. pitying me for what i am to him

"no, don't be...I...I'm just hoping that we w-would continue being friends like, this..I" a tear accidentally came out of my eye as I tried to explain it to him.

he stood there in silence.

"I just still want to be someone you can lean on to, even if you don't really like me back or anything, no, I...just want to be your friend..."

now i can't stop my tears from coming out. i'm glad that the cashier finally gave in and slept so he wouldn't hear me sobbing at the corner because of the man right beside me.

i can't really look at him straight in the eyes because he's going to hurt me more, so my eyes just wandered everywhere around the store, avoiding his..face.

i know that kun doesn't really know how to react to this, to me.

so he just pulled me by the hand to keep me close to him, my left cheek on his chest as he rubbed up and down my back to calm me down from crying.

my hands gave in to him, and weakly held onto the hem of his shirt to keep him close to me even more.

and it helped me calm down, but the pain of it was still lingering inside me...

and i'm already okay with that.

now playing: backburner by niki

53 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 4 months

Text

wonbin's story

"So later, tonight?"

Wonbin forced a smile at her, still searching for something to smile about in what she said in his mind.

Her hand dragging down his arm which he shudders uncomfortable

Okay, you're going to tell her tonight...

"You know I'll never say no to you..." Wonbin says back as his ears were suddenly filled with high-pitched giggles. He flinched a bit but he hides it away immediately.

He breathed out of relief as soon as the sound of her laughter and heels clacking on the floor fades away.

All that Wonbin can do right now is to close his eyes and hope that heaven would take him already.

Shit, shit, what did you got yourself into?

Wonbin mindlessly lets his fingers strum the guitar in his hands in any rhythm it likes, eyes scanning the cafeteria view on front of him.

Until his eyes landed on someone.

Wonbin really didn't know how this "thing" between you two started anyway. All he knows is that you like him, so you two became best friends but she took that the wrong way.

She will always be his best friend in his heart, and he would hate himself forever if he tries to break yours. Though, his heart is actually screaming for someone else.

It's always him.

#riize #riize wonbin #riize imagines #riize angst #riize smut #wonbin #wonbin imagines #wonbin smut #wonbin angst #riize fluff #wonbin fluff #riize x reader #riize x you

73 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 4 months

Text

sungchan's story

Sungchan never wants to be a side character. But in your story, he always was.

All that Sungchan can do now is to watch you from afar as you talk to the boy of your dreams in the school’s lockers area.

He’s not going to lie about it, he’ll admit that he’s jealous.

Well, it gets even worse when you started to leave lingering touches on that dude’s arm you were crushing on.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

Sungchan then slams his locker and stomps away. Still hurt at the sight of you touching Wonbin's arm in his mind.

How will he even get close to you? because to you, he’s just another friend’s friend.

Sungchan continues to watch you at the cafeteria. Munching mindlessly on the food he got on his tray as he watches you fervently like you’re his favorite TV show.

You were hanging out with your best friends. All of them were girls but he doubts that one of them barely even knows who he was.

He wasn’t popular unlike Wonbin. He can’t pull girls on his own without having help from Shotaro who always tries to hook him up with someone, but it always end up unsuccessfully.

He sighed alone in his table, accepting his fate.

Maybe he was destined to be alone forever.

#riize imagines #riize #riize x reader #riize angst #riize sungchan #riize fluff #riize smau #riize smut #sungchan #sungchan imagines #jung sungchan #sungchan x reader #sungchan angst

102 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 4 months

Text

Between the Hammer and Anvil (M)

pairing: mafia boss/ceo taeyong x spy reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, mob au, ceo au

word count: 33.6k

summary: you are a member of yuta's mob sent to spy on a rival mob's boss taeyong who unfortunately happens to be your childhood love that you haven't seen in a decade. when you realize he's still in love with you, and you with him, you grapple with the reality of your mission. (also includes best friend jungwoo and brief Johnny appearance)

warnings: blood, guns, gunfights, illicit activities, minor to medium injuries, physical violence, kidnapping, mentions of death, explicit sexual content, subyong and domyong and everything in between, oral (m. and f. receiving), slight hair pulling and breathplay, semi public (office) smut. healthy relationship though (besides the spying), accidental pregnancy. minors dni.

“The Scorpion?” You echo. The name is big, feared, and known throughout the criminal world, but never you thought you’d take him on.

“Yes. We need to infiltrate his base.” Your boss, Yuta, speaks busily while sifting through folders on his desk.

“That’s a bold move. He’s the most powerful mob boss in the city.”

“We have no choice. They’ve slowly been taking over our territories. I know we are big in the city as well, second only to him, but he’s too powerful to fight head on. We need to turn the tide against him before we’re nearly wiped out, and we do that by infiltrating his base.” He glances at you. “We need to get intel from there directly so we can figure out how to sabotage his operations, eliminate his members, and hit him where it hurts. Then, with the most powerful organization crumbling, we can take over.”

You mull the idea over in your mind. It’s a good idea in theory but you can’t imagine how you can possibly put it into action. “Do you know where his base is?” He shakes his head. You snort. “No offense, Yuta, but for all your wittiness, this plan is foolhardy. Not to mention risky. How do you intend on infiltrating him? He’s smart, powerful, and hides in the shadows. No one knows who or where he is.”

Yuta smiles. “Nobody did. But I do.” He rummages through his files.

You blink. “You managed to uncover his real identity?”

“Yes.. with a great deal of tracking and tracing through member interactions, we’re about ninety percent sure of his identity.” He seems to find the file he was looking for and pulls up a paper for view. “And I need you to go in, pose as a new recruit, monitor them for a while and then come back and report to me.”

Now, you laugh. “What makes you think they’d just let me in willy nilly?”

Yuta grins behind the paper. “Because the Scorpion knows you.” You freeze. He puts the paper on top of a deck of documents in a folder and slides the case file across the table towards you. The thick stack of papers come into view haphazardly, but the printed photo on top slides stops your heart. Familiar eyes, face, all from your memories. “His name is Taeyong.”

Your mind swirls in flashbacks. Taeyong. A childhood friend. A friend whose father was a mob boss. Your father worked directly under him and you were Taeyong’s age, so naturally, you grew up together, from elementary into high school years. It was always expected that he was to take over his father’s position. His father’s organization was far reaching, well established, and successful. Yet no one would’ve ever believed Taeyong was a mob boss’ heir. He was always kind, funny, full of life, and soft. You’d watch him fall from the jungle gym and cry, thinking he’s soft, much too soft. You wondered how he could possibly be related to his ruthless father while wiping his tears and putting a bandaid on his wound, secretly hoping his softness never went away.

But around high school, he’d suddenly grown shy, avoiding eye contact, avoiding everything, avoiding you completely. It hurt at first and then frustrated you to no end. You’d cornered him between the shelves of the library, watching his face painted full pink, flusteredly asking you what you were doing but all you could say was you’re my best friend, please don't leave me with tears in your eyes. He’d looked shocked, then relaxed, then apologized, finally, promising he wouldn’t. Painfully, painfully ironic because the next day was the last time you saw him.The police had managed to pin your father with evidence. Your dad suddenly made you pack and leave the state before he got caught. You recall crying in the car as you drove away from your home, your friends, from Taeyong. You’ve missed him every day since, even until now. Sometimes, the inexplicable aching emptiness threatens to swallow you whole.

Since moving here to a place outside police jurisdiction, your father began working directly under another mob boss. Twelve years later, it fell to his son Yuta’s leadership, while you followed your father’s footsteps after his early passing and joined to work directly under him.

Yuta was reasonable but strict. And when he was ruthless, he was terrifying. Fitting for what was needed in a kingpin. He used you as his weapon for many missions and was usually successful. But this.. this is beyond what you had bargained for.

“Y/n?” Yuta’s voice shakes you out of your stupor. “Do you recognize him?” You blink rapidly, eyes tracing over the very grown features of the once lanky, shy boy you saw last. The Scorpion. So, it seems that Taeyong did take over his father’s position after all.

“Yes,” you force out, voice shaky for some indiscernible reason.

“Great,” he sighs in relief. “I heard you grew up with him. We can use this to our advantage. If you try to join their organization, hopefully high up in the ranks. He might let you in easily. Then, you can infiltrate and we’ll have our victory on our hands.” Infiltrate. Let you in. You’ll have to see him again..

“No.” The word falls from your mouth before you can stop it. “I… I can’t do it.”

Yuta’s eyes narrow. “You’ve never refused a mission before. Why not?”

“We have uh..” your throat burns. “..history”

He raises a brow, understanding seeping into his features. “A lover?”

Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “No.. just friends.”

Yuta looks skeptical. “How long ago?”

“Twelve years.”

“Good. That's enough time to be over him, or for him to be over you.” He continues rummaging through papers. You realize he’s going to continue with this plan. Your eyes flit back to the photograph, of Taeyong staring up at you, of memory flashes of soft, sweet smiles and blushing and butterflies. The thought of seeing him again, of betraying him…

“Yuta.” He hums in question. “I can't do it. Find someone else.”

He glares at you before scoffing. “You’re being dramatic. Just get in there, infiltrate, and get out. Find his weak points, things we can take advantage of.” Yuta drops the other papers onto the table. “I can’t find someone else to do it. You’re the only one he won't suspect since he knows you.” You hesitate. He leans forward. “You’re telling me that you’d betray us, after a decade, for a boy you had a crush on in childhood?”

“Of course not!” You say, but uncertainty flares in your chest. You are fiercely loyal to Yuta. You can’t imagine betraying him for anyone else.. but this is different territory.

“Good. All you have to do is remember your allegiance and get intel and come back in a month.”

A month.. you will have to interact with taeyong for a month. “And how will I join them if I don’t know where their base is?”

“Easy. You talk to their recruiter.” He says, filing all the papers back into the folder. “I had one of our guys spread the word around about a daughter of a former mob member who has great skills for illegal activities. It’s only a matter of time before they call you.”

You snort. “Wow, you even gave them my phone number?”

“I don’t need to. They’ll trace you on their own.” He answers distractedly, gathering the files. “Why don’t you take the next week off? I don’t want you here when they trace your number and location. Maybe hang around in a coffee shop or something?”

You watch him, nerves creeping up. “You’ve really planned this out, huh? What if I had said no?”

He glances at you. “Remember, this is our only chance to take down the Scorpion and ensure our success for years. I’m not going to waste it. Besides,” he smiles, plopping the files into a near pile on the table. “You never had a choice anyway.”

...

You begrudgingly visit coffee shops, parks and other public places the next week and stay away from Yuta’s base. Sure enough, you get a call from a private number.The man on the other end identifies himself as a recruiter for an illicit organization. The recruiter’s voice was rich and sweet, like molasses or honey. You find yourself enjoying listening to it. He calls himself Jungwoo and says that he heard about you through his connections, that he knew your father worked for this group a long while ago, and that they’d love for you to work with them. You try to sound interested and accept, feeling your stomach churn all the while. You are that much closer to seeing Taeyong after over a decade. He tells you to go to a specific location in the city from where he will pick you up. You follow his directions and within an hour, you’re climbing into a sleek black van with a young, handsome man and driving down the highway.

“We know about your father. He was a well respected man. It’s a shame what happened,” he recounts.

“Yeah, a shame.” You reply distantly, your mind only on the idea of seeing Taeyong after all these years and spy and subsequently betray him. Your stomach churns more.

“Were you okay after that? Did you go into hiding?”

“Uh.. yeah. The police never managed to catch my dad once we left this area.” You are careful to leave out the part where you got involved with another mob, unknowingly the rival of Taeyong’s.

“That’s good. It’s nice that you can return here now.” He smiles at you. You inspect him. Is everyone working under Taeyong going to be this nice?

“When I join.. do you know what position I’ll be or… or who I’ll work under?”

He hums in thought. “Well, since you’re a fresh recruit, you’ll be at the bottom of the hierarchy. Give it a few years and you’ll work your way up. You may even work directly under the boss.”

A few years? You will never get valuable intel for Yuta while working as a simple recruit. You need to be higher up than that to get valuable information. The gears in your mind turn until you play the only card you have. “Is there a Taeyong there?”

Jungwoo freezes, eyes flitting to you suspiciously. Nobody is supposed to know who the boss is, so you’re hoping to play it off like a coincidence “Taeyong? How do you know him?” He asks guardedly.

“We were friends when my father worked directly under his father. I was wondering if he was still here.” Jungwoo’s brows furrow, and you explain further. “Yes, we grew up together.”

Jungwoo gives you a once over before carefully acquiescing. “Yes.. there might be someone like that there. I’ll have to double check our members’ list when we get inside. We’re almost here anyway.” He pulls the car into the lot of a large building that looks like a typical financial office building. Jungwoo parks his car and takes you through the doors, past reception and towards the elevators. The lobby is filled with people who look like office workers, dressed in formal wear and carrying briefcases and files. You figure it’s a nice camouflage for the real happenings of this building. Yuta’s group is mainly hidden underground in the slums and didn’t need this much of a cover. Once in the elevators, you both go to the highest floor. Upon stepping out, you catch sight of the floor to ceiling windows in the hallway. You can see the entire city’s skyline from here. Jungwoo leads you to an empty office room with some chairs and tables. “Please wait here. I’ll uh… check if Taeyong is here and knows you.”

“Okay,” you say, watching him leave. The moment the door shuts closed, your heart begins pounding. You’ve rarely been nervous before, not even during missions or shootouts. But this is different, so wildly different, you don’t know how to behave. You settle for focusing on the stunning view outside the window in order to ground yourself. Not even five minutes later, the door swings open abruptly. You whirl around to see two figures standing in the doorway, making no effort to come inside the room.

One is unmistakably Taeyong, dressed in a suit and hair carefully combed back from his face. His face, that he grew into after all these years, makes your heart come to a stop. His eyes are the same, big and wide and wonderful, even wider now with the shocked expression he wears, along with his parted mouth. His hand is still clamped around the door knob as if it's an anchor to reality. He stands there motionless, eyes running over you in disbelief. Jungwoo stands behind him, slightly bewildered at his reaction. “Y/n?”

Similar shock and disbelief well up inside you. Your churning stomach turns into a butterfly garden. “Taeyong…”

Junwoo watches the exchange before stepping back into the hallway. “Okay.. I.. think I’ll just stand outside.” He disappears from behind Taeyong who dazedly steps into the room. He looks so grown and handsome, with the same eyes you’ve always known.

“Jungwoo asked me… if I knew a Y/n…” he says, his voice so familiar even after a decade. “All I did was just run over here…” He steps forward carefully towards you until he’s standing in front of you. With him so close, your stomach turns into a bursting mush of butterflies and tingles. With his dark eyes drinking in every feature of your face, you barely recall where you are and why you came here in the first place.

“I… It’s been a while,” you manage out.

He blinks, as if registering your voice. “Yes. You’re... grown up,” he flushes. “You’re beautiful.” Your face burns, and burns again when his lips fall into a fond smile, eyes running over your features.“I missed you,” he breathes out. You find yourself sucking in a breath. “Can I hug you?”

You pull him into you without a word, arms wrapping tightly around him. He melts immediately, hands pressing you closer against his chest. You sigh in the embrace, head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you too,” you say, voice cracking a bit this time. The daily, inexplicable longing you’ve felt for a decade has all been washed away in this moment. He squeezes you tighter, nosing your hair, so warm and safe in your arms that you never ever want to leave. It's a minute or two before he reluctantly lets go with a warm smile. He still looks so soft, just as in childhood, and it’s hard to believe you’re hugging a kingpin of a criminal empire.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He touches your face again, gently. “Were you just recruited?” You nod, pressing your cheek into his hand. “Ah,” he blinks. “Jungwoo?” He calls. The man steps through the open door, eyes taking in the close distance between you two. “She’ll be working directly under me. Give her clearance to everything.”

Your brain grinds to a halt while Jungwoo looks skeptical. “Will she go through the initiation?”

“Not needed.” Taeyong turns back to you, eyes softening. “Her father worked with us for many years. No doubt she’ll be just as loyal as him.”

Jungwoo furrows his brows and looks as if he’s about to say something. Then, he stops himself, says “yes, Boss” and walks out the door, closing it behind him. Taeyong doesn’t pay any mind. He’s still gazing at you, smiling.

“So.. Boss huh?”

He smiles, shrugging. “It took some getting used to.”

“For a kingpin called the Scorpion, you still look like the soft boy crying on the playground.”

He grins playfully. “Do I?” You nod, chuckling. “I’m glad you still remember.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything about you.”

A light pink settles on his cheeks and you know you’re right; take out the title and he’s still the same boy you knew. “Listen, we actually have a meeting right now with my staff. I want you to join.”

And suddenly you remember why you’re here, how this is a supposed golden opportunity as Taeyong’s mob’s rival, and your heart bleeds in pain. “Ah.. is it really okay for me to join without an initiation?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, trusting, always too trusting. He hesitates and seems to gather courage to raise his hand and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Your stomach bursts into a mess of butterflies once again and you hold your breath, not daring to move. His eyes are soft and you find yourself mesmerized. “You’re already part of this family, just as your father was.”

You grow unbearably soft, forgetting even the guilt as you gaze silently back at him. He does the same, and the air shifts in the silence. He looks like he’s about to say something before someone knocks on the door. “Boss, the meeting is starting,” Jungwoo’s muffled voice sounds through the door.

Taeyong blinks himself back to the present and smiles warmly at you. At that moment, you know more than anything that you don't deserve him. “Come on, let’s go.”

...

The meeting is held in a large room at the end of a hallway that is covered in crystal clear, floor to ceiling windows. You marvel at just how much money this organization must be bringing in compared to Yuta’s. No wonder he wants to take down this group so badly. As soon as you enter, all eyes are on you. A dozen men and women are dressed in suits and formal wear, as if this were no different than a business conference. You have to admit, they play their front well. Taeyong enters behind you and closes the door before standing in front of the room. “Everyone, this is our new member.” He gestures to you and introduces your name.

You feel self conscious as skeptical eyes burn into you from around the room. Given your experience with mobs and their initiation process, no new member should be joining the ranks so high up in the hierarchy, let alone be introduced directly by the boss himself to the inner circle. None of these people should know you yet. You should even be here in this room. And from their questioning glances at Taeyong, they know this too. Taeyong is either oblivious or ignores them by the time he’s done introducing you. You smile and bow slightly before awkwardly shuffling into the back of the room, out of sight, with everyone’s eyes following you all the way.

Taeyong seems to ignore the confused glares and questioning glances and starts the meeting. He outlines high level happenings of the organization, just as a CEO would for a corporation. You watch him confidently explain plans, ask questions to different people, and instruct them on what to do. It’s a marvel, and so different from who you knew in childhood. You take in his frame, dressed in his blazer and black button down and with matching trousers. A kingpin indeed. After giving instructions specific to each person on how to execute the phases of their next operation, he dismisses the group and everyone shuffles out. Soon, he stands alone at the front of the room, peering at the laptop screen sitting open on the table.

You saunter over to him. “You didn’t give me any orders, Boss.”

He looks up suddenly, a little startled, then seems to register your words. You catch the slightest glimpse of a blush before he looks down and rubs his hand across his mouth, obscuring his cheeks. “We uh… may need help identifying possible locations of a big shipment dropoff. You can work with Jungwoo on that. He’ll let you know what to do.”

You notice how he avoids your eyes. “Is that an order?” His eyes stay trained on the laptop, hands moving up from his mouth to scratch the back of his neck.

“Uh huh.” He suddenly catches you trying to hold back a laugh and sighs, ducking his head. “This feels strange. I don’t like giving you orders.”

“I’m just like everyone else.”

He looks at you like he’s about to protest but looks down again. “You aren’t,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

And if that didn’t make your chest hurt with an absurd amount of heart flutters, you would be lying. You watch him silently, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll get right on it, Boss.”His cheeks seem to tint that much more as you leave the room.

...

You’re supposed to be collecting intel, not helping them, you try to remind yourself as you find Jungwoo’s desk out on the main floor of cubicles. He greets you and pulls up a chair beside him in front of his computer monitor.“So, how was your first day?” He smiles as you settle in.

“Not so bad. I think the skeptical looks will take some getting used to.”

“They’ll warm up. Your situation is unusual, after all,” Jungwoo comments. “I’m surprised how quickly you’ve adjusted without skipping a beat. Almost as if you’ve been working for another organization all along,” he jokes. You laugh nervously. “Speaking of unusual, Taeyong seems to .. like you.” He eyes you inquisitively.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for a while. We didnt get to have a proper goodbye the last time we saw each other.”

“I see,” Jungwoo nods. “So were you together? Back before…”

“Oh no, we weren’t,” you shake your head. “Just friends.”

He squints, smiling. “Really? Because you two seem awfully close. I’ve actually never seen him like this before. I’ve been working closely with him for a while now and he has a tendency towards being on the softer side but he is never not strict and can be ruthless when needed. That’s how we become so successful. But with you, all that seems to melt away.”

You can’t imagine Taeyong being ruthless. Ever since childhood, and even until now, he’s been nothing but sweet and kind in everything that he does. “I think he’s just sentimental,” you wave it off. “It’s been twelve years, after all.”

Jungwoo doesn’t seem to buy it. “Whatever it is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts showing favoritism towards you and everyone will take notice. Actually, he already has shown favoritism, and everyone has taken notice.”

Your cheeks burn. You were supposed to not draw attention to yourself. “If you’re talking about letting me in without going through initiation, I think that was just a one time thing. I’m sure from now on, I’ll be treated just like everyone else. No special attention here.”

Jungwoo is about to say something before a woman approaches his desk, calling your name. “Boss wants to see you in his office.”

Jungwoo gives you an insufferably knowing look. You ignore him and follow the lady. She guides you down the main floor of cubicles and towards the end of the hallway with large wooden double doors. It’s clearly the room of someone important. She drags open one heavy door by the long vertical handle and ushers you inside. You step tentatively through and balk at the scene before you. Taeyong’s office is massive - as big as a house. The ceilings are two stories tall. On the left wall, there is a main desk area in front of three bookshelves and various art decor. An armchair sits behind the large desk made of some fancy high caliber wood. On the right, there is a seating area with leather couches and chairs upon an expensive looking, misshapen- shaped rug. Of course, there’s a marble fireplace on the right wall to top it off.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you step in. Yuta would be fuming with jealousy if he saw this.

You hear a chuckle. You didn’t even notice Taeyong standing by the back end of the room, given that the size of his office completely dwarfs him. He walks towards you with a wine bottle in hand. “Do you like it?” He smiles. “It’s my favorite room in the whole building.”

You step further into the room, taking in even more details you didn’t see at first glance. The leather of the armchair, the carved ivy detailing on the fireplace, the nameplate on his desk that looks suspiciously like it’s made of gold. “Yeah, I can see why.”

He grins again, motioning to his wine glass. “I was thinking we can catch up over wine. We barely had a chance to talk today. And we have twelve years to cover.”

You smile slowly and nod. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Within twenty minutes, you two are laughing over sloshing wine glasses and reminiscing excitedly over old memories. “I could not believe you,” he laughs, filling your glass again.

“I just wanted to know what riding on a bus felt like!” You protest, lifting the glass just as he was done pouring to take another sip.

“But you got on the bus with no ticket at eight years old?” He gazes at you, wide eyed.

“I was curious what a bus would be like! I’m pretty sure the bus driver thought I was one of the other passenger’s kids when I came on so he didn’t bother with the ticket.”

He struggles, laughing between breaths. “How long did it travel before you started freaking out?”

“Like ten minutes.” He laughs louder, hitting his hand on the desk you both are leaning against. “I demanded to be let off. I realized I didn’t know any of those people or where I was going. It was a good thing the bus stopped near your house.”

“I remember you rang the door crying,” he giggles, sipping his glass. “I figure being so rich really does inspire curiosity in such everyday things.”

“Yeah, with all that untaxed money our fathers made from illegal activities, we missed out on a lot of everyday things, so I was completely justified.” You emphasize, watching him laugh again. You smile giddily, feeling energized and oddly proud you can make him laugh so much.

“Of course you were,” he acquiesces easily.

“Our fathers were always busy but do you remember how they’d just drop us off at one of our houses or the other when they needed to go to work?”

“Oh yeah, those playdates were fun.” He smiles, eyes distant. “You were genuinely my only friend back then.”

You protest with a noise before you even finish drinking from the glass. “That’s not true! Remember your ninth birthday party with all our classmates?”

He scoffs before taking another sip, his smile fading. “Yeah, classmates, not friends. Remember that one kid blew out my birthday cake candles before I could? And I just broke down in tears?”

“Oh no, I do remember.” You recount your sadness while watching your friend crying and then the burning anger your nine-year-old self felt afterwards. “Oh and then I-“

“Then you took a chunk of the cake and shoved into that kid’s face,” Taeyong laughs brightly. “You got in so much trouble. And you ruined the cake, but that made my day.” You giggle, remembering the lecturing by multiple parents and the annoying kid crying into his mother’s skirt with pieces of cake still smeared on his face. All that mattered to you though was that Taeyong was smiling through the entire aftermath.

“I didn’t like that kid anyway. He teased me on the playground every day, yet my mom invited him.”

You frown. “I hated him for that.”

He looks at you fondly. “I know.”

You flush a little bit under his gaze, then straighten up and blame it on the alcohol. “Remember middle school and high school and how awkward we got?”

Yong suddenly grows shy and scratches his neck. “Ah yeah… I regret those days.”

“Puberty does wonders,” you roll your eyes before looking at him pointedly. “And our peers not minding their own business while being extremely heteronormative and interrogating any co-ed friendship throughout the entire school,” you point your glass at him. “Which ultimately led you to completing ghosting me freshman year.”

Yong waves his wine glass in apology, approaching you. “I’m sorry! People wouldn’t leave me alone! Besides.. you were ah..” he trails off, looking to the side as he always does when he's embarrassed. You mentally note again how difficult it is to believe he’s a mob boss.

“I was what?” You press lightly.

“You were becoming really pretty and.. uh.. I.. was a toad,” he sighs.

You laugh out loud, reaching out to hold his hand in comfort. “You were not!”

“I was! Do you even know what fifteen year old boys look like?” He shakes his head as he comes to stand before you. “All the wrong proportions.”

You shake your head, smiling giddily at the wine flowing through your system. You set your glass down onto his desk and tug him closer by the shoulders. “You were perfect,” you say purposefully, but don't miss the way a flush rises to his cheeks. Whether it's from the wine or your words or both, you can't tell. “Remember when I cornered you in the library sophomore year?”

His eyes widen. “Yes! I couldn’t tell if you were going to punch me or kiss me.”

You laugh again. “But instead I cried and said I missed you and asked you to talk to me again.”

Taeyong chuckles, eyes growing sober. “Yeah. And I promised to. But the next day..”

“Yeah, the next day.. I left.” Silence fills the room. The muscles of your face are slightly tired from all the smiling. You realize you’ve barely registered how close Taeyong has come to stand in the midst of talking. Your hands are still on his shoulders. His smile fades away until now there's an intense look in his eyes.

“I missed you, Y/n.”

Your chest aches. “Me too. I missed you too.” His eyes dart between yours, and find yourself falling into them. They are the same sparkling, wondrous, soulful eyes you've always known, which have always looked at you like this. It's when these eyes dart to your lips that your mind stops working. A burning, fluttering sensation erupts in your stomach like it did when you were back in middle school, being questioned by your friends on if you were in love with Lee Taeyong. You register him leaning a bit closer. His nose nudges yours, hands slide around your waist, and his hot breath fans your mouth. You subconsciously tighten your grip on his shoulders, your heart rate speeding up, your stomach twisting into knots. All you have to do is angle your head up….

Your lips barely brush his before a loud knock erupts from the double doors. Both of you freeze and are ripped back into reality. “Boss? Something just came up. We need you in the meeting room.” A muffled voice sounds through the door.

Your hands retract from Taeyong’s shoulders with heat crawling across your face. His hands slip from your waist in return, his head falling forward in disappointment before calling out, “I’ll be right there.”

You clear your throat, cheeks burning. “I should go. Unless you need me for whatever that is.“

He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth like he does to hide his blush. “No no, you go on home. I don’t want you to be overworked on your first day.”

You gaze at him. He looks a bit put out and avoids all eye contact, frowning. You briefly wonder if he even enjoys being a mob boss. You lean up and kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He brightens up considerably, a smile blooming back onto his lips, eyes sparkling once more. “Yeah.. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

...

You return home in the evening, mentally replaying every single moment of that day. You swear your heart feels lighter than it has in years, as if the answers to all your life questions have been found. The world around you even seems to be a bit more colorful and you find yourself enjoying the walk from the parking lot to your apartment. You lightly smack your head. “Oh god, what am I doing? I’m a member of the mafia, not a giddy high school girl in love.”

Were you in love? Your cheeks burn, remembering how you shamefully melted at every single thing Taeyong did and said today. You even threw all caution to the wind and almost kissed him. You force yourself back to reality with a pounding heart. You really don’t want to know the answer to your question. You spot something in front of your doorstep and find a small cardboard package addressed to you from an unknown address. You step inside your apartment and rip open the cardboard flaps, revealing a brand new cell phone with a note. It reads: Activate this. Don’t take this anywhere outside your house. So, Yuta sent you a separate untraceable phone with which you can contact him to provide intel. You loathe how smart that man is. Groaning, you plop onto the couch and activate the phone. As soon as it’s set up, you receive a call. “Hello?”

“Missed me?” Yuta’s voice sounds from the other end.

You rub your forehead. “You tracked my location to figure out when I came home so you could call me?”

“Yes but mainly so I could find out where the Scorpion’s base was,” you hear him smiling on the other end. “And now I do, thanks to you.”

“Great,” you say sarcastically. Now Yuta knows where the headquarters are. You’re not sure if that’s good.

“So?” He prods. “Tell me everything.” You hesitate and then relay to him how you were accepted without initiation and are working directly under Taeyong. You feel dirty while doing it, knowing you’re nothing but a weapon to Yuta for selling out a man who completely trusts you. “Good. Very good. Keep doing this until you collect enough information that we can use to really hurt them.”

“…Alright,” you say tiredly. There’s a glaring silence from the other end. You sigh and adjust your tone. “Yes, Boss, I’ll get right on it.”

“Good,” he says before hanging up. You toss the phone across the cushion, feeling disgusted. What are you doing? How can you do this to Taeyong? You bury your head in your hands, mulling over your reality. At the same time, Yuta and his father helped you and your family when you had no one. You feel guilty if you don't do as he says, as if you were caught between two impossible choices.

You don't sleep well that night.

...

You return to the office the next day. Jungwoo texted beforehand asking if you needed a ride to the office but you figured you could take your own car. Once you’re inside the building, it amazes you again just how much like a typical financial office space the entire place looks. People are busy with files and documents, rushing this way and that in their business clothes, meetings are held in conference rooms, and telephones ring throughout the floor. What a mask for the sheer amount of illegal activities happening here. You find Jungwoo seated at his desk, working away already. He greets you with a smile and a pat to the chair next to his. You vaguely remember you’re supposed to be helping him pick locations for some shipment dropoff.

“Shall we pick up where we left off yesterday? You know, before the Boss whisks you away again?” He grins, teasingly. “By the way, I saw you leaving the office yesterday looking very flushed.”

Yesterday's memories flash through your mind, of the laughing and flushed cheeks and that almost kiss. You clear your throat abruptly. “We were just drinking wine and catching up.”

He grins into his coffee mug, swinging his chair a little to face his computer screen, not believing you for one second. You sigh and begin your work, asking plenty of questions when you need to. Jungwoo is kind and explains everything, their operations, clients, alliances, even the hierarchy of the organization itself. It’s a wealth of intel and you loathe it. You loathe having to know and learn things from people who trust you. You dread having to report it to Yuta. Your resolve in this “mission” falters by the day and you’re not sure your loyalty can last this week.

You barely see Taeyong today. You only catch a glimpse of him talking to a subordinate in the hallway before disappearing into his office. Whatever came up yesterday must have made him very busy. You try not to deflate. Once the day ends, you bid Jungwoo goodbye, give one last glance at the hallway to Taeyong’s office and head home. You don’t get a call from Yuta that night. After all, he made it clear that you are expected to call him and report any new intel you receive, but you don't have it in you today, or for any day for that matter. The evening passes by uneventfully and you fall asleep in your bed.

...

Like a dutiful employee, you return to the office the next day and the next, slowly getting used to the daily routine of the organization. You even begin to enjoy it. You are given the easiest tasks and are often paired up with Jungwoo, who you already know and who readily helps you understand things. You wonder how many new initiates were afforded the same privilege upon joining. Taeyong even invites you to his office again a few times this week for more wine and story time sessions. You’re happy to see him, but this time, you’re careful to keep a distance and not drink too much lest you repeat what almost happened the other night. Kissing him would make things… complicated, even more than they are now. You're not sure you’ll go back to Yuta if you do, no matter how much you want to kiss him. Taeyong seems to notice your distance and keeps a respectful space. You try not to feel disappointed that he does.

From the outside, it becomes evident that everyone else views you differently. They either avoid you completely or are overly respectful and almost treat you as their boss. You ponder Jungwoo’s words earlier, that everyone will take notice of Taeyong’s favoritism of you. The regularly scheduled rendezvous office sessions with their Boss probably aren't helping. You wonder if your preferential treatment will invite resentment from anyone. So far, everyone has been respectful to you, but by the end of the week, you get your answer.

You get your answer to two things, actually. One, your preferential treatment definitely does invite someone’s resentment. Two, you couldn't imagine Taeyong being ruthless. You said that before today. On the way to Taeyong’s office one day for another meet up, one of the male employees lingers behind you, the same one you’ve seen around with a perpetual stink eye and a bad attitude. You don’t recall exactly what happens, only that he’s spitting insults at you as he follows that steadily grow to shouting.

“Outsider!” He shouts. “You didn’t even go through the initiation and you’re on more classified projects than I am!? Hell, you’re probably making more money than me.” You shoot him a glare without a word. You’re almost to Taeyong’s office. The brute will leave you alone then.

“Doesn’t even have the decency to turn around,” he growls. “Fucking bitch.” Then, his hand is in your hair, yanking you backwards sharply against his chest. The pain is like needles shooting throughout your scalp, stars and tears bursting from your eyes. Despite the shock, your training kicks in immediately, and you elbow him in the ribs so that he keels over. He lets go of your hair, giving you the chance to turn around and go for a kick to the chest.

You don’t have a chance to do anything else before someone is throwing him off of you. He’s knocked into the wall of the hallway before he falls down. Taeyong is bent over him, clutching the man’s jacket until his knuckles turn white to lift him partly off the ground. He is absolutely furious, something you have never ever seen before, yelling something that you don't register. Then, he punches him in the face. Other people are shouting and running down the hall towards you three. Taeyong’s eyes are hard, jaw clenched, his fist cocked and pulled back as if to punch the man again. You step forward, hands finding his shoulders and stepping him away from the man groaning on the floor. Taeyong’s eyes are cold and glaring.

“I want him out!” He shouts, uncharacteristic, pointing past your shoulder. “I want him stripped of everything, all clearances, documents, his name on everything. I want him out of here and dropped at a police station! He can rot in jail for all I care!” People rush to do his bidding, restraining the groaning man and lifting him off the ground. An ugly bruise is already forming on his cheek where Taeyong punched him. You tug him into his office and shut the large door closed. The commotion and noise from outside is muffled here in the silence of his room. Taeyong however is still restless. His chest is heaving in anger, jaw clenching as he paces back and forth. He’s clutching his one fist, which seems slightly swollen.

“That fucking pig.” He growls, taking you back. You’ve never even heard him curse before today. “What the hell was he thinking!? Putting his hands on…” he focuses on you, softening. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you? Of course he hurt you, I saw him-“ his voice wavers before becoming harsh again. “I swear to God I will-“

“Taeyong, hey, look at me,” you reach for his arms to stop him from pacing. He stops moving and closes his eyes to take a deep breath. In the next moment, he exhales and opens his eyes to gaze at you, his stunning eyes that you’ve loved for years. Your heart softens. You don’t want him to be in such pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this,” he mumbles.

“Well, he got what he deserved. You just beat me to the punch.”

“It’s not that. I’m not this jittery or restless. I’ve dealt with worse than these kind of people before. I would’ve instructed someone else to restrain him but when I saw that it was you, I…” he trails off, eyes growing unfocused.

“Are you okay?” You cup his bruised hand.

His eyes flit back to you. “You’re asking me?” He releases another breath, thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “No I’m not,” his voice wavers.

You push forward and hug him gently. You wonder if it’s been a long time since he’s lost his composure. “I’m okay. I'm here and I'm okay.” You can feel him trembling against you and slowly relax, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly against him. Then he gives in, inhaling your scent and burying his face in your neck.

“You’re okay,” he repeats, a bit shakily. You’re taken aback about how absolutely undone he is, how worried, how much he cares for you. It might even be a trauma response from you disappearing from his life all those years ago without a word.

A lump forms in your throat. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shoulder. He pulls away in confusion, his wonderful eyes roaming your face in question. “Not for this. I’m sorry I left. I.. must have put you through so much pain.”

His eyelids flutter, arms around you squeezing tighter. It’s ridiculously comforting. “That wasn’t your fault.” You stay silent, tucking your chin back onto his shoulder, heart feeling heavy. “I’m sorry for what that pig did to you.” His voice is harsh, and you can feel his jaw clenching against your shoulder. “He was always a shady guy, harassing other members.”

You pull away slightly. “It's okay, it's not my first time.” He looks at you with such disturbed anguish you feel bad for saying anything. “But I'm okay. I'm alright.”

He sighs and gives you a thin smile. Then, he blinks and remembers to let you go. Your arms detangle from each other and you stand there, gazing silently, before he speaks. “I’m sure you could have taken him,” he smiles.

“Yes, I could have,” you grin.

He smiles a bit proudly, then looks to the door. “I should.. take care of the commotion outside.”

You nod. “Sure.. and thank you.”

He looks confused then looks away, scratching his neck “You don't have to thank me. It was… well I didn’t even process what I was doing when I did it.”

You smile. “Still, I got to see another side of you.”

He flushes, looking away. “And you… you like it?”

You shrug. “I finally know why you're a mob boss.”

He smiles, his expression almost relieved, before he chuckles and takes his leave. When he disappears into the hallway outside, you feel an ache from the empty feeling of missing his arms around you. When you get home and Yuta calls, there's no information you want to give him. “What did you learn this week?”

“Nothing.”

Silence fills the room for a moment. “Are you serious? You’ve been there for a week now and there's no new info?”

“What do you want to know, Yuta?” You snap. The deceptiveness of this mission has finally taken its toll on you. Seeing Taeyong drop everything to defend you today is enough to make you not want to help Yuta again.

“I don’t know! Key operations? Shipment drop-offs? Members' names? Where can we hurt them the most, Y/n!?”

You groan internally, wishing you can just hang up. You remember finishing your task with Jungwoo in picking a drop off location for a shipment. You figure this is relatively harmless information to keep Yuta off your back. “They’re dropping off some important shipment for some high profile clients, probably government officials, tomorrow at eleven at the hotel on twelfth street. Maybe if you intercept them you can get that shipment and hurt Taeyong’s operations.”

“Taeyong? You’re not calling him the Scorpion anymore?”

You curse mentally. “Scorpion, sorry.”

There’s silence from the other line. “This information is barely useful but I’ll take it.” He pauses. “Do you remember where your loyalty lies?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course.”

“Good. Because the minute it changes, I’ll have you extracted from there.” He hangs up abruptly. It’s a threat. He knows your allegiance has changed. Although, it’s not as if you tried very hard to conceal that fact.

...

You decide to go in late the next day after lunch, mainly because you were tossing and turning awake all night. But the minute you walk into the office, the air is different. Everyone is tense and nervously mumbling. You approach Jungwoo at his desk who also looks more nervous than usual. You take in his bouncing leg and him peering at the computer monitor, reading an email intently. He barely notices when you slide into the chair next to him. “What’s wrong with everybody today?” Jungwoo startles at your voice, but instead of greeting you with a warm smile as he usually does, he looks at you sympathetically. You gaze at him, your smile fading. “Jungwoo, what is it?”

“Taeyong was shot.”

“What!?” you stand up so fast, the chair tips over and clatters to the floor behind you. He stands up with you, hands up in a placating gesture.

“Listen, he’s fine! He was meeting with some government officials today during our dropoff location and somehow, someone seemed to know he was there and that he was the Scorpion. They tried to take him out.” You are paralyzed, a wave of nauseas guilt hitting you all at once. “I’m not sure what followed. There was a scuffle of some kind, maybe he fought the gunman after being shot.. the details were unclear. It was a bullet graze to his shoulder and a few other injuries from the scuffle. He got checked at the hospital and they bandaged him up. He’s resting at home now. But he’s kind of depressed and won’t let anyone in, he said, though I think he’ll make an exception for you.”

Your heart flips. “Can I see him?” He nods and both of you hurriedly take your leave and get into Jungwoo’s car to drive to Taeyong’s home. His “home” turns out to be a ridiculously sized penthouse in a ridiculously sized high rise luxury apartment. “I guess the salary is good,” you mumble, peering up at the building from your window.

Jungwoo snorts. “You have no idea.” You enter the equally ridiculously luxurious lobby and Jungwoo escorts you to a special elevator that seems off limits to everyone else. “This will take you directly to his apartment.” He says, ushering you inside the elevator and pulling out a card from his wallet. “Just text me to let me know when you want me to take you home.”

You watch him scan the card against a pad and step back out of the elevator. “Thank you, Jungwoo,” you say sincerely.

He gives a nod. “Just make sure he’s alright.”

Then, the doors close, cutting off your view of him, before you’re taken directly to the top floor. With a ding, the doors open, revealing polished marble floor and ceiling. You step through hesitantly. His penthouse is much like his office, oversized and luxurious. It’s two stories tall with marble walls and floor, and a floor to ceiling window view of the city skyline in the living room that stops your breath. You wonder if he lives in this entire place alone, as you wander through the space. Somehow, you find your way to his bedroom and knock on the door. You hear a groan from the other end. “I said go away, Jungwoo, I don’t want-“

“It’s me.” Silence answers from the other side before you hear a small “come in.”Your heart leaps into your throat when you spot him lying on the bed with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Other cuts and bruises litter his arms and face, and probably his torso which are obscured by his shirt. Tears sting your eyes. You see people injured everyday as part of your job but this is not bearable. Even worse, this is all your fault, all because you told Yuta that intel about the drop off. Now Taeyong’s injured, and nearly died because of you. You’ve never felt so disgusted with yourself. “Oh.. oh no,” you hold back a sob as you approach his bed.

Taeyong gazes up at you, no doubt able to see your stress. He even offers a small smile as you sit down gently at the edge of the bed, your stomach churning at the bloodied bandage on his shoulder. “I’m guessing I’ve looked better?” He smiles, though his eyes are tired. You blink back your tears, not even processing his humor. Your hand comes up to hover over his cheek. He gazes up at you with what looks like hope. You banish all doubts and gently cup his cheek, finger stroking his slightly bruised skin. His eyes flutter closed and he nuzzles your hand immediately. Your heart squeezes in pain and affection.

“Taeyong, I…” you swallow a heavy breath. What can you say? You’re sorry? Sorry for not protecting him? Sorry this is all your fault? Sorry, you were sent here as a spy to gather intel and you’ve been lying to his face this entire time? Guilt stabs at you ruthlessly, as you gaze down at this sweet boy meant for a softer life than this. Instead of speaking, you take clean cloth nearby and gently wipe a dirt smudge from his cheek. He watches you silently, his eyes like the starry night sky that you fight not to focus on. You spot a deep bruise on his wrist, and take another clean bandage to wrap around it. His hand is light in yours, his eyes watching you carefully. Once you’re done, you can't help but raise his hand to your lips and kiss his wrist reverently. His chest stutters in breath. Cuts on his fingers and the back of his hand catch your eye this time. You take another bandage and clean each one, kissing them too, one by one. His eyes turn soft, always soft when they’re on you.

“Does it hurt?” You ask softly when you’re done.

“Not anymore.”

You flush, turning back to his fingers, stroking them gently with your own. ‘Remember how I used to put bandaids on you when you fell on the playground?”

He smiles and the butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Of course. You’d grumble that it’s not that bad while putting it on and looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… like I’m the most precious thing in the world,” he says softly, “Like you love me. Like how you’re doing right now.”

You fall completely silent, the breaths halting in your chest. Wordless gazes are exchanged. Then, he reaches up with his good hand, tangles his fingers in your hair, and pulls you down to kiss him. You don’t resist and melt so fast against his lips it's almost embarrassing, but he could never make you feel embarrassed. His kiss is soft, reverent, and gentle. You sigh into his lips as he strokes your hair gently. Warmth blooms and spreads to every inch inside of you until he pulls away with soft lidded eyes. Your forehead rests on his. Both your eyes are closed with breaths mingling as you both savor the moment after so many years of waiting. Then, he kisses your forehead and your heart twists again, with guilt and love and pain and all.

“Taeyong I…” you struggle and he notices. His newly bandaged hand comes up to stroke your cheek in comfort as he nuzzles your nose. “I’m so sorry.”

He takes it as you being sorry for his injuries, because he doesn't know. Doesn’t know you’re a traitor. “Don’t be. I was careless.”

You can’t even object and explain that he never did anything wrong. Frustration wells up inside you. “After all these years I just want to be with you.”

It’s a careless slip, a frustrated wish voiced aloud when it was meant to be kept buried in your thoughts. But it’s too late. A light kindles in Taeyong’s eyes that replaces all the tiredness they held before. His lips lift into a beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter in all ways and you realize you are doomed. You never had a chance against him.

“Then be with me.”

...

After more bandages and kisses, you don’t want to leave Taeyong, but know he needs rest. When you let him know as much, he pouts and asks you to stay. You give him a final kiss to the forehead in response and tell him you’ll be back tomorrow. He lets you go after that. Literally. He was holding onto your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

With your heart thumping and affection running high, you give Jungwoo a call and ask him to pick you up and drop you back at your place. You thank him profusely for doing it so late in the night. When you step through the door, you spot the secret cell phone that Yuta gave you lying on the table, and feel anger rip through your body. It was Yuta. He took your intel about the drop off and sent men there to steal or sabotage it or who knows what else. When they saw Taeyong, they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kill the boss. It’s a miracle Taeyong even made it out alive. You grit your teeth and pick up the phone. A notification pops up with 3 missed calls from Yuta. Without another thought, you call him back. It goes straight to voicemail. You figure. It’s late in the night so you decide to leave a message. As soon as you hear the beep, you growl into the phone. “The deal’s off. I can't do it and I’m not coming back.”

You hang up and pull out your own personal phone, holding the two cells side by side in your hands. Yuta’s tracking both of them. You make up your mind to have both destroyed and dumped tomorrow.

...

You feel much freer going to work after that voicemail for Yuta and destroying both your phones. You let Jungwoo know you need a new phone and it takes no effort for him to get you one. Besides this, it takes a few weeks for Taeyong’s shoulder to heal. He misses work the entire time and rests at home. You visit him after work each day and take your own car so as to not bother Jungwoo. Most of the evenings and nights are spent changing his bandages, talking and sharing sweet kisses.

“It's nice to be taken care of,” he comments, sitting on the edge of the bed. He has a tank top and you try not to fixate on the muscles of his arms as you remove his shoulder gauze.

“No one’s ever taken care of you while injured?” You ask, putting some ointment on his shoulder wounds. He winces a little and you give him an apologetic look.

“Well, I live mostly by myself. And I've never been this injured before. Jungwoo does have access in case of an emergency and he needs to get me. But other than that, no one knows I live here.”

You lift his arm slightly to wrap the gauze over and around his shoulder. His eyes roam your face, watching your concentrated features. “But this giant penthouse and no one ever comes by? That’s lonely. Especially knowing you,” you smile.

He smiles back before scratching his ear. “Uh, well.. I’m not entirely alone here. Sometimes my past partners would stay here.”

“Past partners?”

“Yeah.. you know, relationships.”

“Oh,” you say. Of course he hasn’t been single, you mentally note, just look at him. The thought makes you feel strange, though. You’ve missed such a huge chunk of each other’s lives but feel like you’ve known him forever. You finish wrapping the bandage around his shoulder.

“But I'm glad you’re here and not.. them or anyone else,” he manages out. “To be honest,” he laughs, looking down at his hands, the cuts having healed long ago. “I was looking for you in those people, but never quite found you.”

Your heart melts, eyes taking in the way he’s bent forward, avoiding your own. You cup his cheeks, bending over to kiss his forehead. “I was looking for you too all these years.”

He glances up and smiles slowly. “Really?” You nod. “So, we wasted our time?”

Your thumb strokes his cheek, and you watch the way his eyes flutter. “I suppose we did.”

“Well, in that case, we’d better make up for it.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into his chest so hard you both topple backwards onto the mattress.

Surprised laughter bursts from you, hands trying to push him off as he rolls you to the side and onto the bed. “You’re injured! Stop it!” you say between laughs.

He tries to prop himself on the bed with you underneath him, eyes dancing with amusement. “I'm the kingpin of the greatest mob empire. A little shoulder wound won’t - ow!” his shoulder flinches as he puts pressure on it.

Concern floods your chest. “See, I told you.” You maneuver him to rest flat on the bed against his pillow once again. “You need to rest, oh great kingpin lord of everything.”

Unbelievably, he pouts. So you acquiesce and lean over to kiss him. He hums happily, threading his hands through your hair. When you pull back, his eyes are soft. “Can you stay tonight?” You glance at his shoulder but he tugs at your arm. “Please? I don’t get sleep anyway when you’re not here.”

You swallow, gazing at his pleading eyes. “Of course.” A smile blooms on his face before he makes room for you to lie down next to him. Your body is a mess of nerves and butterflies but once you’ve settled in his soft sheets, he immediately wraps his good arm around your waist and bends forwards to kiss your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/n,” he sighs, snuggling closer.

“Goodnight,” you echo, feeling more comfortable than you have in a long time.

...

The next day, you wake up feeling well rested for the first time in your life. Taeyong’s body is plastered to your back, his good arm wrapped around your waist like a vice. The sunlight filters through his window blinds, falling onto his soundly sleeping face like bars of gold, and you think, just here and now, life is perfect. You’re not sure you’ve ever said that before.

You flip over to see him. Your heart lurches at his peacefully sleeping face. He looks like an angel. You push back his hair from his eyes and lean over to press a slow kiss to his temple.

He stirs, inhaling. “Hmm, what was that for?” he asks sleepily, eyes still closed.

You chuckle at his sleepy smile.“Nothing. You looked cute.”

He blinks open one eye. You giggle at his messy hair. “Cute, huh? I’m the mob kingpin lord of everything and you call me cute?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Hmm, definitely the cutest king for sure.”

He chuckles, reaches his arms over his head to stretch but flinches in pain, bringing his arm back down. “Ah, still sensitive.”

Worry flashes through you. “Are you sure you wanna come in today?”

“Yeah, it's been over a week and I'm feeling much better. Besides, a mob can't run without its cute boss.” He mumbles sleepily, throwing his good arm around your waist again. You gaze at him longer, your heart fluttering. It’s a slow realization that also happens all at once somehow - you want this everyday, for as long as you imagine. It grows worse the longer you stare at him. He cracks an eye open. “What?”

It’s impossible to hold it back now no matter how much you try. “I love you.”

He grows still, both eyes flying open as he gazes at you in slight surprise. “What?”

You run your fingers through his soft strands again, pushing them away from his eyes, your heart lurching. “I love you.” Your voice is soft, almost as if you’ll shatter him.

Taeyong stares for a moment before pulling you in to kiss you, morning breath and all, but you can’t give a care in the world. When he finally lets go, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I love you too. So much.” You laugh in disbelief as he cups your cheek and presses his forehead to yours. “To be honest, I’ve been having trouble holding those words back since the first day you came here.” Love flares in his eyes. “I loved you even before this. I’ve loved you since childhood.”

You’re slightly surprised at the sting of tears in your eyes. “I’ve loved you since then too.”

Taeyong cups your cheeks and presses short kisses again and again on your lips, saying I love you between each one. You chuckle, blinking back tears as you accept them. Then, he pushes aside the heavy comforter, and rolls you over so that he’s on top, kissing and gently stroking your hair, making your heart lurch over and over again. Soon, his short kisses become longer until your mouths are pushing and pulling like tides. You kiss until your lungs burn. When you pull back, gasping for breath, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Y/n,” he mumbles reverently. Your fingers skit down his jaw to the nape of his neck. He shivers in response, hot breath fanning your lips. You pull him impossibly closer to you and he meets your lips again. His tongue slips through your lips this time and sends sparks through your stomach. It grazes your own tongue, and you sigh, letting yourself melt into him, his warmth and body heat, the unbelievable feeling of being in his arms, his fringes tickling your forehead, his breath fanning your face. You kiss until you can't take it anymore.

He whines a little as you pull away once again. You laugh breathily, watching him balance on his propped arms over you. “Isn’t your shoulder hurting like that?”

He gives you a boyish, lopsided smile. “Honestly, my shoulder has been hurting the entire time, but I don't care.” In horror, you try to rip away from him but he easily drags you back and pins you to the bed without so much as a retort. His fingers intertwine with yours and hold them against the pillow.

“For a cute mob boss, you’re pretty strong,” you remark. He only grins and buries his head in your neck, pressing kisses down the skin. More electricity buzzes through your body. His kisses are hot and wet and you arch when he meets a pulse point. Your voice comes out shaky. “Taeyong, if you keep going, I won't be able to-“

“Me neither,” he answers. His voice is a different color than usual, one that you haven't heard before. It’s gravelly and rough. Combined with his body insistently pressing yours into the mattress and his kisses to your neck, your body turns into a mess of tingles and butterflies.

His teeth nips your pulse point and you gasp, pressing your hips against his slightly. He picks up on this imperceptible movement and rolls his hips against yours with a low groan. You can feel him through his pants, and you arch and moan at the friction. Your hands clutch the cloth of his tank top from his back until it's bunched in your fist. He pulls back a small to observe your reaction, his pupils dilated.

His hand comes up to touch your face reverently. “Y/n, do you want to…”

“Yes, keep going, please.” You should be ashamed at how easily you beg, but you could never feel that way for him, especially with the way his pupils dilate and his breath comes out ragged.

“How far.. do you want to go?”

“Everything, I want everything from you,” you press your head to his, feeling strangely emotional. “I just want you, please.” He seems still for a moment, gorgeous dark eyes boring into yours. The uneven breaths fill the silence, as if he were savoring this moment. Then he reaches down , fingers slipping inside your pants, and pressing your clit through panties. A moan falls from your lips, your hips arching towards his touch. His dark eyes drink in every reaction. Then, he moves to suck your neck again and you’re clutching his tank top harshly as he works your clit, moaning into his ear. You have half a mind to drag his tank top half way up his chest until he gets the idea and pulls away from you. He sits up, slipping it over his head, and tosses it to the side, revealing his bare skin with tattoos littered here and there. When he falls back to you, carefully supporting his injured shoulder, you drag him in for a kiss. “You are so beautiful.”

He moans slightly into your mouth, tongues meeting again before pulling away. “I can say the same for you.” He eyes your shirt. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you manage out.

His lithe hands peel your shirt up and over your head. His eyes roam over your torso with a bated breath as you sit up a little and undo your bra. It’s a few seconds of awed silence once you lie back down before his hot mouth planting on your nipple. You arch and moan loudly, your eyes clenching shut. “Oh god.”

He strips your pants and underwear from you in one movement. His hand returns to your clit though this time, his finger slides into your core, stretching your walls. A moan tumbles from your lips as he comes up to press kisses to your face. “My love,” he calls gently as you moan again, “my Y/n.” Sparks fly behind your eyes in your pleasure. Your head presses back against the pillow and you let out a particularly loud moan. Then, he rips his hand away as well as his mouth and you’re left teetering, then coming back down the way you came, unsatisfied. You let out a whine but he sits up, panting harshly, grabbing a condom from the drawer in his nightstand and settles back between your legs. He gives you another kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your heart thrums each time you say it. Then he’s slipping inside you, stretching you until your eyes flutter closed. You’re full and you realize this is how you've always belonged, how you were always supposed to be. He thrusts slowly, lips hovering over yours or pressing all over your face, his eyes fluttering when you squeeze around him. You realize this is different from all the other partners you’ve ever been with. It feels like he fills you with life , every second he looks at you or smiles or walks into a room, he fills you with purpose.

You live for his moans, unabashed and light and airy and beautiful. It makes you lose yourself so much faster. His lithe hands clutch the bedsheets beside you, lips grazing your neck, hair tickling your face. You realize you want him all the time, near you all the time, you want this forever. You memorize everything, his touch, his scent, his features screwed up in the pleasure you give him. You’d give him anything. You memorize him until he hits a spot inside you that has your brain coming to a halt. He notices easily, lifts one of your legs to hook over his good arm, and hits it again, much more intense this time, until you're shivering and arching, your mind turning to mush. Sweet praises fall from his lips as he pushes into you. You’re perfect, you’re so beautiful, my love.

My love.

You contract around him like a vice, burying your head in his neck, muffling the moan bordering on a scream as you come apart. He shivers as your nails dig into his back and halts his movements until your walls grant his cock mercy enough to move again. He finishes the last few thrusts until he's pressing deep inside you with a loud groan, and you vaguely think you wouldn’t mind hearing that sound forever. He collapses on top of you, panting and breathing harshly but you couldn't care less about his weight squeezing you. Your hands tiredly comb through his hair, littering kisses along his forehead while he catches his breath against your chest. Pleasure brims and hums through your body and mind as you relish the feeling of him in your arms. After a few beats, he lifts his head up just enough to kiss you. “I love you.”

You smile, brushing back his sweaty fringes. “I love you, too.” You’re rewarded with a beautiful smile before he rests his head back on your chest. “Wait, wasn’t your shoulder hurting this entire time?”

He makes no effort to move. “Yes, but I didn't care.” You groan and he only chuckles against your skin.

...

You end up going a little late to work that day. Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind, though. He seems content enough to brush his teeth with you, shower, change into office clothes, grab breakfast and drive you to work in his car, even though you have your own parked in the garage. You’re guessing it's the inkling of domestic bliss that’s keeping a smile on his face and making him leisurely savor each mundane moment with you this morning. As for you, it’s something you never knew you needed. It’s easy to imagine a life like this and only this, with none of the complications. Taeyong looks over at you in the passenger seat with a smile, bright eyes, so many times during the drive to the office that you’re laughing. “What is it?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, turning back to the road again. “Nothing.” You let it go, but your heart flutters. Once you step through the lobby, the busy chatting stops and are replaced by jeers of welcome aimed at Taeyong after his week’s absence. Soon after, though, their curious eyes are trained on you. It’s obvious you came in the same car together and therefore probably from the same place since you usually drive yourself. If anyone had any suspicions before about you both, they definitely know for sure now. Once you and Taeyong enter the elevator, he pulls you close and kisses you once again. “I love you,” he smiles.

You laugh, adjusting his tie. “I love you too. Not tired of saying it?”

The way he looks at you, eyes half lidded, an amused smile across his lips as if you’re the most perfect thing in the world, makes you feel foolish for even asking. “No. And I never will be.”

Your heart flutters, biting back your smile. “Me neither.”

He grins this time and kisses your forehead. Then, he deflates a little. “I wont see you much today.” His fingers brush a lock of your hair. “But maybe by the end of the day, you can swing by my office?”

“Deal,” you agree, snaking your arms over his shoulders. “We'll go home together after?”

“Of course,” he smiles, leaning forward to kiss you one more time before the elevator doors ding open at the top floor. He grins again and pulls away. “I love you.”

You laugh. “I love you, too.” You go your separate ways. When you approach Jungwoo’s desk, he’s already smiling, face tilted and propped on his hand.

“You’re in a good mood.” Jungwoo comments.

Your steps falter. “Ah.. I’ve uh…”

“No need to explain. Everyone saw you two come in together. The boss is practically bouncing with each step,” he smiles knowingly, turning back to his computer. “It’s good that he looks better though. Everyone was worried. Thanks for taking care of him.” He says, glancing up at you. “For all those days.”

Your cheeks burn. “How did you know-“ But Jungwoo gives you a look that makes you feel foolish for even asking. You plop down in the chair next to him, propping your bag against the desk. “Of course you know.”

“Actually, you might see more of him today. He has a client meeting at a high end club and I’m guessing he’ll take you as a date.”

“Really? Why does he need a date?”

He shrugs, crumpling up a piece of paper in his hands. “He doesn’t.” He throws it in the basket. “But he’ll ask you anyway.” He grins.

You watch him clean up his desk of unneeded and old documents. “You’re very perceptive of people aren't you?”

Jungwoo smiles. “It’s my job. I recruited you, remember? I find out things about people.” He says a matter of factly before changing the subject. “So, a newbie whose first mission is with the Boss himself. If no one was sure of your privilege, they’re sure now.”

You exhale, shrugging. “I'm pretty sure everyone is sure of it by now. I just hope I don't get attacked again.”

Jungwoo freezes then, concern flooding his eyes as he turns to face you. “I never asked, how are you feeling after that?”

You shrug. “I'm fine, I guess. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Jungwoo nods slowly. “Taeyong was angrier than I’d ever seen him. He made sure we removed that guy. But please know he was an outlier. People may not be the friendliest here but everyone’s generally happy to have you around.” He cups your hand in comfort, sincerity evident in his eyes. “I hope you always feel safe here.” He pauses to smile. “Even though we're an illegal organization.”

You wordlessly listen to Jungwoo, feeling strangely touched. Yuta never made you feel like this. “Thank you,” you say, and you mean it.

He gives you a warm smile that makes you feel even softer. “Now come on, we have a lot of work to do today and many things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

“Like, did you sleep over at Taeyong’s last night?” He grins, leaning over in interest. You shove his arm, pulling peals of laughter from his lips. The rest of the day passes with jokes and work, with you secretly counting down the hours until you can visit Taeyong in his office. It seems as if an eternity passes until Taeyong himself is strolling onto the main floor and approaching Jungwoo’s desk.

“Hey guys,” he greets. Jungwoo glances at him with a hint of surprise. You figure this is an unusual occurrence since Taeyong usually summons people to his office. “I was just wondering if I could borrow Y/n in my office for a second, if I’m not interrupting or anything.” Taeyong seems a bit hesitant.

Jungwoo shakes his head slowly. “You’re never interrupting anything. You're the Boss.”

Taeyong blinks. “R-Right…” he turns to you. “Is it okay with you?”

Jungwoo watches the exchange with growing interest. You try to ignore him and stand up from your seat. “Of course it is.”

“Great,” Taeyong says, before waving at Jungwoo, which you also assume to be unusual given Jungwoo’s perplexed expression “Bye, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo waves slightly in confusion. “Bye…?” He watches until you two disappear from sight.

Taeyong curses once you’re out of earshot. The laughter you’re holding back spills from your lips. “What was that?”

He slows enough to allow you to fall in line with his walking. “I have no idea. I just.. felt weird beckoning you to my office chamber as if you’re my maid or something.” He shakes his head. “God, Jungwoo’s going to think something is wrong with me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” you reply, biting back a smile. So, he feels weird about you calling him Boss and also about ordering you around. It’s strangely sweet in its own way, how a man with all the power at his hands refuses to see you as anything but his equal.

He drags open one massive door to his office and ushers you inside. Once you’re in, he shuts the door, pulls you to his chest and kisses you. “Mmm what are these for?” You ask when his long kiss dissolves into small short sweet ones littered on your lips.

“I just missed you all day. And missed kissing you all day.” You giggle as he turns to littering kisses over your face. Your hand wraps around his tie and tugs him to you abruptly so that he can kiss you properly on the lips. He makes a soft noise that travels like electricity through your body. The kiss turns deep once again, your hands coming up to comb through his soft hair. When you pull away, your breaths are shallow and his gaze is intense. “Believe it or not, I actually have work for us to do.”

You chuckle. “Jungwoo told me. We’re going to some high end club?

He takes a moment to gather himself before pulling away from you. “Yes, just to visit a client we’re sorting out a contract with.”

Your nerves twist in your stomach. You remember the last meeting with a client ended in a gunfight. Your eyes settle on his shoulder, where you can still see the bandage underneath his office shirt. “Are you sure?”

He glances at you and sees the concern in your eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be safe,” he smiles reassuringly. “To be honest, I still don’t know why I was targeted that day and by whom. I’ve ordered everyone to track them down, but we haven't found any clues.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s probably a rival gang that somehow got our info.”

Your blood turns to ice. You haven’t even told him about what happened that day, about where you’re from and the truth about why you’re here. You can sell out Yuta right now. You can give Taeyong all the information and help him take down your former leader. But the words fail you and you realize that you can’t. You’ve spent a decade working under Yuta, longer than you’ve even known Taeyong. As much as you hate it, your loyalty to Yuta are your chains. You can’t rat him out. And worse, even if you do, what if Taeyong hates you? What if he sends you away and never wants to see you again? What if you have to return to Yuta? Return to a cold, meaningless life full of violence and crime, devoid of sunshine and sleepy smiles and slow mornings.

You swallow back any words and stay silent. You feel awful. You’re a liar. You never want to lie to Taeyong, ever. But you’re a coward and you don’t know what to do. Even if he doesn’t know now, he will find out the truth eventually and hate you then. Taeyong seems to notice your intense conflict and mistakes it for concern. He steps towards you, a soft smile finding his lips that nearly makes the terrible thoughts melt away. “I know you feel bad, but it's not your fault that I was injured,” he takes your hand gently in his. “Besides, I don't think any sniper will be able to find me at a strip club.”

Your whirling thoughts pause momentarily. “We’re going to a strip club?”

“It’s technically a gentleman’s club. It’s just a meeting with an old client. She runs the whole place and makes quite a lot of money from it. She wants us to protect her territory. A lot of members of the criminal underground frequent there and have been stepping out of line and making her workers uncomfortable. The security they have there doesn't intimidate these kinds of men enough. She wants mob protection, so these criminals will feel less inclined to do whatever they want.”

You nod. “It’s an honorable cause. But if you’ve met her before, why am I coming?”

His eyes slide away from yours in embarrassment. “Because.. I’m uh… they like me over there,” he flushes a light pink, “I’ve gotten.. too much attention when I went alone in the past. I might as well show them that I'm taken.”

The image of women and probably men hanging over Taeyong as he talks business, flirting with him, their fingernails running down his chest, makes your insides twist in jealousy. Yes, you figure, you should be there. “Yes, you are taken.” You grip his tie and watch his eyes flare. You chuckle and mentally note his reaction. “So, this is our first date?”

He snorts. “At a strip club? No way. I'll plan a much better one than that.”

“I thought you said it’s a gentleman’s club.”

He laughs. “Come on, let’s head out. We’ll have to dress up a little.” You both stop by your apartment to pick up some fancy clothes and make up before driving over to his place to get ready. By time you change, style your hair, apply makeup and jewelry, the sun sets and the evening sky’s moonlight glows through the windows. When you walk into the living room and find Taeyong in a tuxedo, silver cuffs, and his hair neatly combed back, your heart nearly stops in your chest. He has a similar reaction when he spots you. “Wow.” He stares breathlessly for a moment before blinking back to reality. “Oh no, maybe I should go alone. This isn't a good idea.”

“What? Why?”

His eyes run over you once again. “Because you’re beautiful. Too beautiful. There's going to be too many sleazy criminals there. They’re already harassing the workers. They’re not going to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. Besides, do you think I’m the only one who looks good? I’m not letting you go there alone looking like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too beautiful too,” you echo his words, watching him flush. Then, because you’re feeling playful and curious, you decide to push further. “And because you’re mine.” His eyes flare. You see him swallow imperceptibly. You don't know why it feels good to see him like this, but you want to do it some more. “They’ll keep away if they know what's good for them.”

His breath catches in his throat. He swallows again and seems to blink himself back to reality. “F…fine, then. Just tell anyone who asks that you’re with me and I'll say that I'm with you.”

“Tell them that I'm yours and you’re mine. Understood,” you grin.

“Ah… right,” he mumbles, unable to find a suitable reply. A pretty blush spreads across his cheeks as his eyes slide away from yours. It never fails to satisfy you. He pauses, then gently cups your face and brings you close to kiss you. He pulls away and gives you a warm smile. “Okay, let's go."

...

You know that gentleman’s clubs are just higher end strip clubs, but this one is so far beyond anything you've seen before. As you walk in, you’re hit with the sight of patrons dressed in black tie, waiters carrying flat dishes holding unknown colorful alcoholic drinks, curved leather booths scattered throughout the space, crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. “I can see how this owner can afford us,” you mutter. Your arm is looped through Taeyong’s as he guides you through the area and towards the back rooms. You pass by people chatting, drinking, smoking, and eventually spot the main stage. Some dancers are already there, dressed in sparkly two pieces.

Some of the girls passing by to get to the stage notice Taeyong and smile brightly at him. Some touch his shoulders and arms, bat their eyelashes, give cherry lipped smiles, even though you’re quite literally hanging off his arm. You suppose your presence here doesn’t spurn any of them in the slightest. Taeyong guides you into one back room that looks like a luxurious private meeting room of sorts. An older woman adorned in jewels and a shimmering gown is seated upon an expensive looking armchair with a lit cigarette between her painted nails. A few girls stand or are seated around her. They smile and greet Taeyong when he walks in but their friendly gazes turn to questioning glares when they fall on you. It seems as if the air itself stops when you walk through the door.

“Who is she?” the older woman asks, voice raspy probably from years of cigarette smoke.

“She’s my date,” Taeyong answers easily.

They all eye you suspiciously. “This is the first girl you’ve brought in as a date. How long has she worked for you?”

“How is that relevant?” Taeyong counters.

The woman ignores him and glares at you. “How long, girl?”

“…A few weeks.”

Murmurs start from the girls. The older lady laughs and takes a drag from her cigarette. “And you let her in this high up already, working by your side? Ever the softie you are,” she notes. Taeyong flushes slightly. “You’re not worried she’s a spy?”

Your heart jumps. Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Of course not. And I’ve known her much longer than a few weeks. We just.. were separated for a long time.”

Her eyes narrow a bit. “That’s even more dangerous.” Her lips blow a puff of smoke. “She’s not allowed in here. That’s final.”

Taeyong growls. “Listen, Mabel, we have a contract to sign.”

“Yes, with very sensitive content. Which unauthorized people should not be allowed to listen in on.” Her eyes coldly drag down your frame. “No matter how pretty.”

Taeyong looks like he’s about to argue but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder. “It’s fine,” you say, not wanting to complicate things. “I’ll wait outside.”

He glances at you, brows knitted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s no big deal.” You give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and step out the door. You hear a muffled sentence from Mabel of she’s got you bad, huh? through the door before you’re walking into the buzzing scene before you.You decide to sit at the bar because you need to be alone. Mabel’s words have triggered you. You feel awful, guilty, and disgusted. You have to tell him the truth, even if he hates you forever. But what if he doesn't hate you? What if he understands, forgives, and then wants you to help him take down Yuta? You pause. How can you take down Yuta? You spent a decade under him, working for him, being with him through good and bad times. You can't just turn against him completely. You feel stuck. You seem to always feel stuck these days and it’s making you miserable.

“Why the long face?” You hear a rich voice behind you. It rips you from your internal monologue. It’s a tall man with dark hair, twinkling eyes and a colorful suit. He sticks out easily among the crowd. You notice he already has a drink in hand.

“Ah.. just a bad day.” You say a bit dismissively, looking back down at your drink, hoping he’ll get the message and disappear. He doesn’t.

He nods in understanding and slides into the stool beside yours. “I’m Johnny. You Yong’s girl? I saw you come in with him.”

“Uh.. Yes.”

He nods, taking a sip from his glass. “He’s never brought anyone with him here before.”

You eye him. “Do you work here?”

“Nope. I’m from my own..um… group.” He smiles. “I come here sometimes as a patron.” Right, you think, Taeyong did mention that members of other criminal groups hung out around here. It’s the reason why the owner needs protection in the first place. Johnny bumps you slightly with his elbow. “So, why are you so sad? Is he not treating you well?” He smiles easily. “You can come to our side, you know, and work as a spy. You have the look. A beautiful woman with eyes like yours, who wouldn’t believe every word that comes from your lips?” Johnny smiles into his glass. “Best part is Taeyong doesn’t have to know.”

He’s joking, but you know it's the way deals are made underground. The thought of taking him up on his makes bile rise in your throat. “No.. I don’t…” you blanch.

He notices the look on your face. “Too loyal?” he nods in understanding. “It’s not for everyone.” he glances at you. “But you never know.” He raises a hand to touch your chin. Your reflexes get the better of you and you grip his wrist before he can touch you.

“Y/n,” Taeyong’s voice cuts through the air, catching both you and Johnny in surprise. He’s fuming. Similar to the time when the man jumped you in the office, his expression is hard and unmerciful. “Is he bothering you?” His eyes slide to Johnny who releases a breathy chuckle and turns back to sipping his drink.

“I was actually just leaving.” You slide out from the seat and walk past Taeyong who gives Johnny a lingering hard glare before following you out the door.

Once you’re seated in his car, Taeyong grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. “What the hell was he doing? I knew I never liked him for a reason.”

“He’s from another organization?” You ask.

“It's a smaller one. It operates at the outskirts of the city. They’re one of the… less moral organizations that others need protection from. They’re a thorn in our side but nothing we can’t handle.” He glances over at you, concern replacing his irritation. “Are you okay? You look.. sick.”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing I… just…” you exhale tiredly. “It’s nothing.”

His worried eyes scan your face. “Is it because of what Mabel said? Don’t listen to her. I trust you with everything I have.” You gaze at him, speechless. His words make you feel infinitely worse after the night you’ve had.

When you return to his apartment, you change out of your dress like you can’t wait to get it off. Then, you mindlessly set to packing up the things you’ve left at Taeyong’s place while staying over the past few days. Taeyong watches you wordlessly, still in his suit, looking as if he’s about to say something, then changes his mind. The cycle repeats until he works up the courage. “Did you…want to stay over tonight too?”

You glance at him and try not to chuckle at his puppy face. “I would, but I have to go home and take out the trash and do the dishes and .. get new clothes,” you sigh, walking over to him. “But I’ll come visit later, okay?” Your fingers take to combing through his hair, coaxing a sigh from his lips.

“What if you moved in with me?” He says it so easily, lost in the feeling of your nails against his scalp. Your fingers pause and his words hang in the air. At your silence, his eyes fly open in panic. “Is that too soon? Of course it is. Fuck, forget I said anything.”

He so visibly retracts in on himself that you’re scrambling to reassure him. “No, no, I’m just… surprised is all.”

He sighs almost helplessly, brows pinching in frustration. “I just see you here and .. when we spend time together, I..I want it… all the time… and nothing else,” he says heavily, grasping your hand and holding it up to his chest. His dark maroon eyes are large and heartfelt. “Sometimes I wish I just had a simple life. No mobs, no criminals, no territories or fighting. Just you and me in a house, living peacefully.”

Your eyes burn, pricking with tears. “Me too,” you whisper, unable to convey just how badly you’ve dreamt of the same dream for so long. “Me too.”

His expression is almost as if he’s witnessed a small miracle. He pulls you into the tightest hug, as if he can’t hold you close enough. You breathe him and relish the weight of his head tucked against yours, the smell of his lingering cologne and the comfort of his arms. “We can talk about it later,” he mumbles into your neck. “Can you stay over tonight, please?”

You forget about packing. “Of course.”

...

The next day when you come into work, you spot Jungwoo sporting a new type of pistol that spikes your curiosity. You ask him to show you the features and end up seated, facing him with the gun in your hands. Jungwoo’s fingers slide against your own as he guides yours to the grip and the trigger. "The safety lock is actually here," Jungwoo points out, turning over the unfamiliar silver pistol in your hands before guiding your finger to the small button. You test the weight of the gun with both of Jungwoo’s hands cupping yours. "It's comfortable, isn't it?" He offers with warm eyes. "Yeah, it is,” you say incredulously. “I haven’t seen-” "Jungwoo." A serious voice cuts through the atmosphere. Both of you stiffen and spot Taeyong, arms crossed with hard eyes, taking in the scene before him. "Don't you have something to turn in for me?” Jungwoo releases your hands as if they were burning hot coals. "Yes, sorry Boss. I was just taking a break and showing Y/n my new gun." "Well, get on it.” His usual soft voice is hard. Jungwoo’s face drops. Taeyong’s eyes slide to you. “Y/n, can I see you in my office?” He doesn’t wait for you as he begins walking back. You and Jungwoo exchange bewildered glances as you stand to follow him. Once you step into his office, you notice that Taeyong doesn’t greet you. He leans over his desk, his hands gripping the wooden edges. “Did you.. need me for something?” You ask, perplexed by his demeanor.

He straightens up, running his hand through his hair. “No,” he sighs, turning to glance at you. “You… you ah… you and Jungwoo…” he trails off, averting his eyes. He huffs. “You and Jungwoo…spend a lot of time together.”

You try not to laugh. “Yes, you assigned us to work together. On everything. Don’t you remember?”

He only grumbles, rubbing his forehead. “Right.”

“Are you alright?” You test carefully.

“I’m fine,” he says curtly, turning his back to you once again to walk towards his desk. You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't.

“Well… if you are, could you apologize to Jungwoo later? It was kind of rude.” He glances at you and then exhales, plopping into this arm chair. He tries to speak but struggles, then seems to give up and glare at his tie. “Hey,” you say gently, following his path around the desk until you’re standing by his chair. “Tell me what’s wrong.” You touch his chin, then run your fingers through his hair that has his shoulders slumping with stress seeping out.

"I'm sorry,” he sighs, the hardness in his voice gone. “It’s just, the past few days.. with you finally being mine after so many years… but then stupid Johnny at the club was with you and then Jungwoo was holding your hands and… I just got jealous. It's silly, I know. You love me. There's no doubt about that." He mumbles, sighing. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh,” your brain processes his words. “You were jealous?”

"What else was I supposed to be?" He now lifts his face to look up at you directly. "I think of you in every moment, in every breath I take, even in every dream I have at night. And then I see you with Jungwoo.. or someone else.. and I get jealous of them, for being in your presence. Because sometimes, they’re the ones that have your eyes… or hands on them. Not me.”

You chuckle. “Even though I have my eyes on you ninety nine percent the rest of the time?”

“Only ninety nine percent?” he laughs, his smile finally appearing. “I want the full one hundred.” He twists his chair a little to bury his head in your stomach. “I’ll give you anything you want, Y/n. Anything in this world.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I know.” He doesn’t respond and seems deflated so you try to reassure him. “I get jealous too.”

He lifts his head to look at you. "Really? I never noticed."

“I don’t tell you.”

He suddenly sounds curious. "Jealous of whom?"

Your cheeks burn and you look away. “I don’t know. When the women were all over you at that same club the other day. When I hear you haven't been alone all these years, that you loved someone else. It.. makes me jealous.”

Taeyong’s eyes seem to kindle with light. He stands up slowly until he’s slightly towering over you. "So.. you're jealous of my attention too.” His eyes darken only slightly, but the air shifts. "Would you prefer that I give you one hundred percent as well so that I only ever pay attention to you?”

You feel flustered at your vulnerability but provide your answer without breaking eye contact. “Yes.”

He falls silent then. The air is still around you, growing heated as you gaze at each other, wordlessly. "What would you do if they were here right now?” His voice is low, raspier than before.

You know he wouldn’t engage; has no interest in anyone else but you, but from every previous interaction with him, you know by now he’s very into you being possessive. So, you decide to indulge him and playfully growl. You lean over and kiss his pulse point. He swallows hard. “I’d wring them away from you.”

Your words work on him. He shivers in your arms. "What else?” he asks, his voice slightly more gravelly in your ear.

You think. “I’d also push you against the nearest wall and kiss you until you’re panting, making sure they watch.”

He grows still. “Really?” You nod. It looks like it’s the right answer. He abruptly pulls away from you with a determined look on his face. "Good. I need you. Right now. Let's.. let's go to the closest wall we can find."

You laugh out loud, following along as he pulls you away from his desk. “Which wall?" He tugs you towards one end of the room, coaxing another laugh from you.

“There is no one to watch here. Should I just kiss you against a wall?”

"Yes. Yes, that's the idea," His voice turns rough once again. He pulls you to the wall nearest his desk and turns around to face you. "Show me, love." he orders, his eyes dark with his fringes falling into them. Your throat grows tight, all your previous laughter disappearing. He leans close to you again, hand wrapping around your wrist so that you can’t back away. "I want you to show me how jealous you can get. Right now." He growls lowly. You swallow thickly, and force your limbs to move. You raise your hands, his loosening from your wrist, and press against his chest. He doesn’t break eye contact as you push him against the wall. He gasps a little when he hits the surface, eyes darkening again. You press forward to kiss him harshly. He moans as he kisses you back just as aggressively. “Yes,” he breathes shakily between kisses. “You’re so good.”

Your mouths push and pull like tides as you keep up the show. “You like this? Being shown who you belong to?”

He’s gasping between kisses, all your words exciting him further. "Oh.. god yes, I do." he breathes out. "I love it.. I love knowing that I’m yours.” He lets out a small moan. "You'll make sure that no one will steal me away from you, right?"

You kiss down his neck, nipping the skin slightly, causing him to tremble in your arms. “Yes. No one can take you from me. You’re mine.” You say the words you think will affect him most and you’re right. A pretty blush settles on his cheeks and he moans softly at your kisses.

"Yes... no one will take me away from you because you're mine, and I'm yours,” he breathes, eyes lidded.

“Yes,” you soften, littering kisses down his jaw. “You’re mine and I’m yours.” He shivers when you undo his buttons to litter more kisses along his collarbone. You subconsciously press closer to him and feel his hardness graze your thigh. “You’re this worked up? From just my words?” You ask fondly, nipping his chest. His eyes are closed, cheeks flushed, hair falling into them.

“F-From you. I’m worked up from you,” he mumbles.

It’s endearing. You comb this hair back from his face and kiss him. “Well, it would be unfair to let you go home like this.”

His eyes seem to focus on you in confusion before you press your palm against the bulge in his slacks. He shivers against you. “Y/n-“ You press until he bites his lip. Your nimble fingers unzip his pants and slide in past the hem of his boxers to grip him. He gasps, eyes flying open. “Oh god,” he moans. You keep a tight grip as you stroke him, watching his head fall back against the wall, jaw working open. You lean forward to kiss his neck.

“Good?”

“Good… so good,” he nods. You struggle to work him with the small space you have in his boxers but he moans so beautifully even with what little you do. “Y/n,” his eyes open, half lidded, shallow breaths. You pause to look at him. “I love you.”

You soften, push forward to kiss him gently, chastely, so at odds with your hand still stroking him. “I love you too, so much.” You squeeze him gently and he gasps, breaking away from your kiss and arches against the wall, moaning, and you know you have to hear more. With a final kiss to the hollow of his throat, you drop to your knees. He gazes down at you, eyes going wide, then jaw clenching, arousal seeping into his face. You grip his pants and boxers slide them down a bit along his hips until his length is free for your undivided attention. The sight of it completely hard has arousal surging through you but a brush of his hand to your cheek breaks your focus.

He’s gazing down at you softly, arousal drenched on his face but tended by loving concern. “Are you sure?”

You take his hand by your cheek and kiss it firmly, smiling up at him. “More sure than anything.” Then he hisses as you stroke him, hard in your grip. You budge closer until your lips are right by his length and gaze at him with dark eyes. “I want you to know what I do for you and nobody else.”

All softness drains from his face and his eyes grow ravenous. He gives you a nod and you take him into your mouth. His head hits the wall, body trembling a little as your mouth engulfs him. You drag back and come forward, tongue swirling against him, slowly setting a rhythm that has you humming. His breaths grow harsh and shaky quickly, his hands combing through your hair. You relish the feeling of him, the weight of him in your throat. You want to hear him moan but one glance tells you he seems to be holding back. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut in concentration, hand gripping your hair gently. You decide to pick up your pace and he curses, biting his lip hard. Your shallow sucks grow deeper and his length goes in further along your throat. He trembles and a low groan finally loosens from his lips. You yourself nearly moan at the sound and take him even deeper, until he hits the back of your throat. His eyes fly open and he attempts to pull back his hips, tugging you by your hair back a little to get you to slow down. “Y/n… I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You ignore him, grab his hips and shove him back into your mouth. He harshly gasps out your name and it’s everything you wanted to hear. You gaze up at him, tearing yourself from his length with great self control. “I’m in control right now, aren't I?”

He shivers at your authoritative tone and surrenders. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your stomach burns at the title and you quickly set back to work, taking him deep in your mouth. This time, he moans freely, his hand back in your hair. His soft caresses of your hair become tight, his finger curling around the strands absently as his face screws up in pleasure. Soon, he’s subconsciously guiding your head in your movements as his hips push forward to meet your mouth. It makes his length go even deeper in your throat until you have to focus more not to gag. His free moans are music to your ears, his head is tilted back against the wall, eyes clenched closed. With one particular stroke, you feel him pulse in your mouth. Then, his eyes are flying open and he tugs you off of him roughly by your hair. The sensation sparks pain and pleasure through you, coaxing a noise from your lips, which he seems to notice. He pants harshly, eyes lidded, as you gaze up at him in confusion. “I’m… too close,”. He struggles to find his composure. “I .. don't want to lose myself in your mouth.”

“Where then?” You tease as he helps you stand up. His eyes darken.

“You’ll see.” Your breath catches as he steps forward, backing you towards his desk. “I think it’s my turn to show you how possessive I get.” His lips crash into yours and it's rough, rougher than he’s ever kissed you. You gasp as his hands grip your cheeks and hair hard, pressing you insistently against him. You feel heat pool quickly in your lower abdomen. He walks you backwards, kissing you hard until your back hits the edge of his desk and he’s towering over you. His dilated umber eyes hold you captive, his hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips parted with shallow breaths.

“Sit.” He directs you. You obey, lifting yourself on your tiptoes and then seating yourself on the wooden edge. Then, he kneels, and it’s so graceful and how he does so, but your throat goes painfully dry. He takes one of your legs in his hand and kisses your ankle, still strapped in by your formal shoe. He lifts it so it slides over his shoulder and does the same with the other.

He gazes up at you, brows low, gaze dark and you swear you’ve never been so turned on. He grips the hem of your skirt and slides it up to reveal your thighs. He comes closer to kiss the revealed skin, never breaking eye contact with you, his gaze searing into yours. Your gut is a mess of fire and butterflies, twisting and flipping and grappling for sanity while your mind wonders where did that young shy boy that you knew all this time go?

“Y/n,” he groans, sliding your skirt up all the way until the front is bunched around your hips. It's when his hands grip the hem of your panties does electricity strike your senses. He gazes at you as if asking for permission and you lift yourself up slightly in response.

He smirks and slides your panties down your legs, past your socks and over your heels before tossing them somewhere neither of you bother to remember. He settles back close between your legs and the image of him gazing up at you on his knees sears itself in your brain. Then, he leans forward and licks a stripe along your core that has you gasping and clutching his shoulder. He smiles and presses his hand against your stomach, hinting at you lie back against his desk. You shiver and obey and it's not even until your head hits the wood does he lick another long, broad stripe that has you arching.

“Shit,” you gasp, clutching the edge of his desk. You feel him grin between your legs before his fingers slide inside you. Your eyes clench shut, mouth falling open as the burning stretch gives away to pleasure. He pumps his fingers leisurely into you, making your toes curl in your shoes. He licks your clit at the same time, causing a long moan and a jerk for your hips. You vaguely wonder when was the last time you’ve been pleasured like this.

He pushes his fingers deeper and curls them deep inside that has you letting out a long moan of his name. He groans at that and retracts his fingers, leaving you empty. “Look at me,” he says raspily into your skin. “I want you to look at me.” You lift your head up a small ways to see him between your legs, his dark eyes glaring at you, his nimble hands hooking around both of your thighs. Then, he slides his tongue inside his tongue inside, hot and thick. You let out a high pitched moan, hand coming down to tangle in his hair as you arch up. “Oh god,” you clench around his tongue as he goes deeper. He groans in satisfaction and you can feel it reverberate through your body. Sparks of pleasure fly in your vision. His tongue twists and moves and flicks inside you, turning your limbs and mind to jelly. Your head hits the back of his desk as you arch again and suddenly you feel his nails digging painfully into your thighs. You lift your head up to glance back down at him and he gives you a pointed gaze. Right, keep your eyes on him.

He continues his ministrations, leaving you arching and moaning and whimpering all while struggling to keep eye contact. He doesn’t let up once, not even when you accidentally tug his hair too hard, which earns a hiss and then a moan. He continues, tongue sinful sliding deep inside you before moving to wrap his lips around your clit and suck hard. That has you gasping, moaning, hand tightening in his hair as your face screws up in pleasure. He watches every single facial expression carefully while working you all the while. He slides fingers inside while suckling your clit and when he curls them once again deep inside you, you fall apart.

‘Oh god, oh god,” you moan out as you hurdle towards your end. He groans when he feels you coming, and redoubles his efforts so that you have to cover your mouth when you scream. You fall back against the mercilessly hard wood as the purest bliss washes over you. You arch and moaning and shake around his tongue until he groans into your core, tongue lapping up everything you have to give him. He leaves you then, granting you enough mercy to come back to reality and your body with all the energy sapped out of you.

He’s suddenly near you, bending over and pressing his body against your weary one to kiss your forehead. Hand comes to comb through your hair gently as you regain your composure.

You open his eyes to see him smiling softly down at you. “Good?” You nod breathlessly. He smiles proudly. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Your words catch in your throat as he guides you to sit up against the desk once again. He stands before you, towering, his hair even messier now thanks to you, and a slight shine to his lips where he didnt wipe you off completely. He cups your cheeks reverently and bends down to kiss you. It’s loving and passionate and you find yourself melting against him one again. His hand runs through your hair before he tangles it in a few strands in the back of your head and tugs firmly. You gasp harshly, breaking away from the kiss as your head is forced back a little. He examines you briefly before he tugs again experimentally. You moan this time, eyes fluttering and pleasure buzzing through your body. He drinks in your reaction like it's an elixir of gold. “Just as I thought,” he mumbles before gently combing through your hair again. “I can’t believe I do this to you. The effect I have on you,” he says reverently, watching your hair slip from his fingers.

You catch your breath. “You have every effect on me.”

He gazes at you intently before leaning over and gives you another kiss. Then, he helps you off his desk until you're standing on your slightly unreliable, still shaky legs. He steadies you with his grip on your hips. He presses his lips to your temple and eyes his desk behind you. “You know… I dreamed of having you here.” His eyes are dark again, pupils blown wide, voice raspy. “Some days, it distracts me so much that I can’t do any work sitting here,” his eyes flit across the wood. “I’ve wanted it for so long.”

“For how long?” You ask.

“Since the day you walked into this building,” he laughs, nudging your nose with his. “You were so beautiful,” he sighs, settling his forehead on yours. “And the first time we drank wine here and I almost kissed you? After that, god, those thoughts would not leave me.”

“What…” you swallow, “what thoughts?”

His eyes darken. “Of you bent over my desk, moaning and whimpering as I fuck you.” Excitement buzzes throughout your body, arousal seeping through you once again, so embarrassingly quickly after your release. Taeyong cups your jaw, his thumb resting on your lip. his stare is dark, unwavering. “What do you say, my love?”

You swallow hard. “We should make those thoughts reality.”

His eyes darken impossibly more. “You sure?”

“Please.” His eyes darken again, growling as he kisses you hard. Then, he turns you around, pressing your stomach into the edge of the desk and drags his hands down your body. He presses and kneads your clothes breasts, his hard length pressing into your ass as he kisses down your neck. You moan and arch against him. “Bend over,” he instructs. A wave of arousal hits you hard as you do his bidding. Once you’re bent over with your forearms resting against the wood, Taeyong flips over your skirt. You hear him groan, probably at how unbelievably sopping wet you are by now, especially from having come once already. Then his hard length is sliding into you and all thoughts grind to a halt. Both your moans synchronize as he slowly thrusts into you, mumbling praises while you fight to stay sane. You are still so sensitive and the lazy drag of his length against your walls compounds your pleasure. He eventually picks up speed, sending pleasure coursing through you with each stroke. One hand tangles in your hair, and you feel him press down against your back until his lips are by your ear. “God, I love your hair.” He gives a firm tug so your head is pulled back against his neck, coaxing a shaky moan from your lips. He groans and sinks his teeth into your neck. You gasp at the sharp pain mixed by the pleasure brought from his hips.

“Oh,” you gasp out as his hips speed up, his hand still in your hair, his teeth by your neck. It all sends your mind spiraling. He moans into your ear, whispering praises on how good you feel, how long he's waited for you, how much he loves you. Then, his other hand comes up to grip your throat and suddenly, you’re whimpering.

“Is this okay?” He whispers lowly in your ear, his hips not faltering in their brisk pace.

“Yes yes yes,” you manage out, relishing the pressure on your throat. You want to feel him everywhere, in any form, as much as you can while he takes you for himself.

He chuckles. “Good girl.” You moan and clench so hard his thrusts stutter and he gasps into your ear. “God, Y/n….You like that dont you?” You moan in response and he chuckles, resuming his thrusts. He kisses down your ear and your neck. “My good girl, my sweet girl.”

You gasp, feeling yourself clench even tighter at his praise, pulling more moans from his lips. You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and he groans.

“Say my name, Y/n,” he orders, hand slightly tightening around your throat.

You mentally scramble to remember words. “Ah, Taeyong.”

He groans lowly, possessively, his thrusts turning rougher, making you cry out. “Say.. say you love me,” his voice is a bit softer this time but still demanding.

“Hah.. I love you,” you manage out, fingers scratching the wood for leverage.

He releases a harsh breath against your ear. “Again.”

“I love you,” you gasp, eyes clenching shut at his harsh pace.

He moans, gently kissing the side of your face that he can reach from behind you, so at odds with the rough thrusts that are making you shiver. “Again, love.”

“I love you,” you cry out. He growls as his thrusts grow faster and the grip on your throat grows tighter, pulling whimpers and incoherent mumbles from your lips. His other hand untangles from your hair and reaches down to rub your clit.

“Ah!” your yelp echoes through the office. The hand clutching your throat slides up to clamp around your mouth.

“Careful, I may have a big office but they can still hear you from outside,” he warns, voice strained in pleasure as his lips brush your cheek. “And I wouldn’t mind all of them hearing you. But I think you’d be very embarrassed walking past them into the office after this.”

You breathe harshly against his hand, and pressing it against your mouth to signal him to keep it there because you know you’ll definitely not be quiet. He growls, his thrusts growing harsher now that your moans won't reveal you. His fingers resume drawing circles on your clit that has your whimpers coming out muffled against his hand. Your legs are shaking again, mind numb, moaning incoherently into his hand clamped around your mouth. He lets you sink flat onto the desk when you can’t hold yourself up anymore, the coolness of the wood offering some relief to your flushed face. He fucks you until his breaths grow harsher his moans louder before he drapes himself over you.

“You’re mine,” he growls into your ear. He hits a spot deep, deep inside you that has you careening. Combined with his words and his finger on your clit, you lose yourself into pleasure for the second time. The world washes in white as you come, gasping harshly into his hand and dragging nails down his desk, walls squeezing him mercilessly. “Y/n,” he moans, desperate, thrusting into you until he strains and stills suddenly. With another moan of your name, his warmth spills inside you. He lets out a long groan as he shakes before collapsing on top of you.

Both of you fight to catch your breath. After a few minutes, it seems to take all of Taeyong’s energy to drag himself off of you and collapse into the armchair nearby. You’re still gasping over his desk, not trusting your legs to support you if you stand. “Oh my god.”

He chuckles, hand combing through his hair. “Did I get carried away?”

Pleasure is still thrumming across your body, through every inch of every nerve. “Please.. get carried away more often.” He laughs out loud. You push yourself off the desk and shakily stand up.

“Come on, let's get cleaned up,” Taeyong says, tangling his fingers with yours. “I have more things for you in mind at home.”

Your stomach flips. “Still haven’t gotten it out of your system?”

“Nope.”

At home, he gives you so many hickeys that you have to wear a high neck shirt and a scarf when you go to work the next day. When you meet Jungwoo, he only quirks a brow.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothing,” he smiles knowingly. “I’m guessing it's going well with the boss?” You flush under your scarf. “He apologized to me, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have something to do with that, do you?”

“Uh,” your voice comes out high pitched. “Nope no, uh.. he just feels bad.”

He smiles, eyes narrowing. “Does it have anything to do with the scarf you’re wearing in June?“

“Don’t you have work to do?” You snap. He only chuckles and turns back to his computer.

...

Several pass with this routine of work and then staying over at Taeyong’s place some days of the week. The days you do, you wake up from restful slumber with his arms around your waist, his sleepy mumbled protests when you try to leave his arms, even for the bathroom. On the weekends, you spend time making breakfast and sharing kisses and watching funny movies and cleaning his apartment. It’s domestic bliss and you wish it lasted forever.The days when you don’t stay over, you stare at the emptiness of your apartment and wonder if you should just move in with him. You would have said yes already had you not felt so guilty for lying to his face everyday. You can’t even imagine taking that step when he still doesn't know the full truth and how you’ve betrayed him. Judging from his sad expressions any time you pack up and head back to your apartment, you can tell that he wants to ask you to stay for good, to move in, but he hasn’t mentioned the idea after the first time he brought it up.

Apart from this, life is routine for a while. Soon after, however, strange things begin to happen. A few of the lower ranked members get ambushed while running some operations in the city. The following week, a shipment was stolen. A few days later, some high profile clients suddenly decide not to work with the group anymore. And, the worst of all, somebody shoots at Jungwoo on his way to work. Yesterday, Taeyong told you that someone was following his car while heading home. He managed to lose them before they discovered where he lives.

“It’s bewildering,” he said in his office, brows pinched in concern. “No one has ever attacked us like this before. We are the most powerful criminal organization in the city with the highest security. Who could suddenly have access to all our details and carry out attacks like this?”

Today, your stomach churns with dread as you drive home. You remember how shaken everyone was, including Taeyong, and you hope to god it isn’t what you’re thinking. As soon as you step into your apartment, you spot a letter on the floor by the entryway. Someone must have slid it under the door. Come back or we kill him. You have one week. -Y.

The note shakes slightly in your hands. You read the words over and over until they’re seared into your memory. Then you push down the overwhelming sensation of dread swelling up inside you. Your suspicions are confirmed - Yuta’s behind everything. And now he’s exploiting your weakness for Taeyong so that you’ll be forced to come back to him. You don't know how he got access to so much classified information to do as much damage as he did. He seems to be everywhere, attacking everyone at once, out of fury. You wonder if it’s because of you. Either way, it’s only a matter of time before they kill Taeyong.

Still shaking, you crumple up the note and slam it into the trash can. You feel the sting of tears in your eyes and shut the door to your room, collapsing onto your bed. You won’t be able to sleep tonight. You make up your mind about at least one thing, though. Taeyong won’t get hurt again because of you.

...

The next day, you don’t bother checking in with Jungwoo and drag your feet to Taeyong’s office. He stands at his desk, organizing files and smiles at you brightly when you enter the room. Then, he registers the expression on your face. “What’s wrong?” His brows furrow.

You steel yourself with a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”

His face falls, hands dropping the files onto the desk. “What?”

And suddenly, you can’t hold back your tears. “I’m leaving. I have to leave.”

He registers your tears, realizes you’re crying for the first time in front of him, and swiftly walks over to you. His arms pull you into a hug, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Why? Why are you crying?” Concern heavily laces his voice.

“All these attacks that are happening.. you being followed… it’s all because of me,” you manage out against his chest.

His arms tighten around you, his breath stuttering. “Y/n, what are you talking about?”

You sniff and pull back, taking in his concerned face. It’s likely the last time you’ll see it when he still has love for you, before you tell him the truth. “I was sent by another organization as a spy.” It’s like slow motion, the way his face drains of all emotion and grows hard and shaken. His arms retract away from you as if you’re poison. He steps back suddenly, far out of your proximity and your heart shatters. “I know. I’m a traitor,” you say shakily, staring at the ground so you don’t have to look at that heartbreaking face. “You have every right to be angry.” Tears fill your eyes, emotion choking your words. “But I had no chance with you. I knew even before he sent me here that I’d fall in love with you and I told him as much.”

Taeyong makes no further movements to step close to you. His voice is cold when he speaks. “Who sent you?”

You exhale. “Yuta.” His expression hardens. He knows him. You’re not surprised. Yuta’s mob is second only to Taeyong’s in the city. “He sent me here to gain intel because he knew we were close. He…he knew you would trust me and keep me close despite being a new recruit,” you say wearily. “I told him I didn’t want to but he forced me. It…it was so hard being here, seeing you, lying to you and everyone, you have no idea.” Tears fill your eyes as you chance a glance at him. Taeyong’s face is carefully neutral but his eyes betray him. They are filled with unspeakable hurt. Your heart lurches.

“I gave him some intel about that shipment drop off at the hotel. Then, you got shot. That was because of me.” Taeyong inhales sharply, you can see in his eyes that you’ve shattered his heart further. You feel nauseous. “I didn’t know it would get you hurt. When I saw you injured and bleeding, I called it off. I told Yuta I was never coming back.” Your words stutter and tears slip from your eyes. “So, he took revenge. He’s behind all these recent attacks, all because of me. He sent a note to my apartment yesterday saying either I come back or he’ll kill you.”

Taeyong seems alarmed and then turns thinking, mind working overtime. You continue.

“So many people have already gotten hurt, even Jungwoo, because of me. It’s only a matter of time before you get injured o-or worse and I can't.. I can’t be responsible,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “So, I have to go back. I have to never see you again.”

Taeyong’s face is unchanging, his voice still cold. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth before? Especially after you called it off with Yuta?”

You exhale. “I should have. I should have told you from the beginning. But I’ve been loyal to Yuta for a decade. After my father escaped, we joined his mob. It’s only because of his protection that the police didn’t catch my father and throw him in jail.” Understanding seeps into Taeyong’s eyes. “I couldn’t betray him. But I couldn’t betray you. I just… I was just stuck,” you bite out, clenching your fists. “And I was afraid if I told you the truth, you’d want me to leave. I was happy here for the first time, with you. I just wanted to disappear into this life, where I didn't have to think about anything else, not even the idea that you’d find out the truth and hate me,” Pain seizes your chest. “I was a coward.”

“But you want to leave now,” he notes, expression still neutral.

You blink at him. “Because you’re in danger. It doesn't matter how I feel anymore.”

He watches you for a second before the slightest hint of emotion shows on his face. “Do you love him?” He swallows, eyes pained. “Yuta?”

“No!” The word falls so quickly from your lips but his pained expression doesn’t shift. “I’m only loyal because he’s like family. Like… like you. I couldn't easily turn against him just like how I couldn’t be against you. But I never loved him,” you say evenly. “And I love you more than anything.”

Taeyong’s expression falters, softens. “If… if I allow you to stay, will you help us bring him down?” He asks carefully.

Words fail you for a moment. You thought Taeyong would yell in anger, throw you out like he did with that man. Instead, he gives you the smallest chance of penance. As of yesterday, you found happiness with Taeyong while Yuta threatens you and uses the love of your life to hurt you. It’s clear he will never see you as anything more than his weapon. And for the first time, everything feels clear. “Yes, I will.”

Taeyong seems relieved. “Then… then stay. Help us bring him down.”

You blink at him, wide-eyed. “You trust me?”

Taeyong looks away. “I don’t know yet. But I can’t just let you go back to him. Who knows what he’ll do to you as punishment.” His hands curl into fists. “And I may not trust you completely, but I still love you. And I’m not losing you again, not after I found you after all these years.” You inhale. You never imagined that this conversation would end in any way other than with you leaving and never seeing Taeyong again. Something painfully tight in your heart loosens and suddenly, tears spill from your eyes. Taeyong reaches for you, then falters for a moment before deciding. He steps forward and pulls you into his arms. His fingers tangle in your hair and press you close to his chest. You melt against him, relishing the sound of his heartbeat as you cry freely. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” you cry.

“I know,” he says gently, stroking your hair. He kisses your forehead. “I’m not losing you again.”

...

Over the next few days, you tell Taeyong everything you possibly know about Yuta and your old mob, including sensitive information. You hold nothing back. You know this is the time for endings. Taeyong uses every scrap of your information and turns them into orders for other members, into strategies and plans that will give an advantage, and generally puts things to work to ruthlessly take Yuta down. You are grateful that he does not tell the entire office of your treachery. It only appears as if Taeyong has received a sudden influx of highly sensitive information related to a hostile rival mob in a stroke of good luck. But as members of a criminal organization, not everyone is so naive, and they pick up on your sudden increase in visits to his office. Their warm looks suddenly turn to suspicious glares and wide kept distances.

Jungwoo’s reaction hits you particularly hard. You’re not sure if Taeyong told him the truth about you since he’s his right hand, or if, more likely, Jungwoo found it out by himself. Either way, when you try to speak with him the first day after your revelation, he gives you the cold shoulder. You dont blame him, of course. He gave you information in confidence, which you relayed to the enemy and indirectly put him in danger. Still, your stomach sinks at his aloofness and spreads ice through your heart. You make sure to visit Taeyong’s office only from now on and relay only the necessary information, missing your friend’s twinkling eyes and warm smile the whole time.

Over the course of this work, even Taeyong keeps a distance. He doesn’t show you affection as much as he did before. When he does, it’s with a slightly guarded look in his eyes as if you’ll attack at any moment, with his kisses and touches all too fleeting. Sometimes, you feel lucky if he gives you a smile. You try to blame it on the busyness of work in taking down a rival mob, but it makes your heart crumble all the same. You know he needs time to build back trust, so you give him space. You don’t stay at his place these days and leave work before he can ask. It’s better than him telling you no or, worse, feeling pressured to offer. Whatever he feels, you want to be there for him, always, and hope that he’ll eventually make his way back to you.

With everyone in the entire office regarding you suspiciously, work becomes a cold place. You’re also well aware that the ultimatum’s deadline is approaching, of which Yuta ordered you to come back within a week’s time or he’ll kill Taeyong. You’re sure that it will be more difficult for Yuta to target Taeyong now that the latter has all the dirt on him, has bolstered his defenses and is launching raids and attacks against Yuta, but it still makes you uneasy.

Taeyong seems to remember this too and asks you about it during one of your meetings with him. “Where did you say you found that note from Yuta?”

“My apartment.”

He blinks. “So he knows where you live?” You nod uneasily. He stiffens slightly. “Y/n, you can’t stay there.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I was thinking of secretly moving to a hotel. I’ve been packing and getting ready.”

“No!” He says bewilderedly but cuts himself off with a sigh. “With me. Stay with me.”

You stare at him. “Are you sure?”

He gives you a level gaze. “Of course.”

You hesitate for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. I’ll bring over my things.” His face melts in relief, churning small butterflies in your stomach. Taeyong seems to want to say something else but decides against it and turns back to work. It’s enough though, for you.

“I can take the guest room,” you offer, once you’ve unloaded your boxes and suitcases into his apartment.

“Don’t be silly.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Just use my bed, like you’ve done a million times.” You hesitate, uneasiness stirring in your gut. His dark eyes fix on you. “I don’t hate you, Y/n. You don't have to worry about making me uncomfortable.”

You still don't budge. He makes a show of plopping down on his bed and scooching to the far most end, patting the space beside him. You acquiesce with a sigh and climb in, settling into the sheets and lie down, facing away from him. You relish the familiar feeling of his mattress and his scent on the sheets, remembering the last time you were here before everything changed. “Goodnight Y/n,” Taeyong mumbles behind you.

“Goodnight,” you say into the darkness. Of course, the next day, you wake up tangled in each other's arms. You nearly hate yourself for it. He’s still sleeping and you find yourself quietly admiring his features, as you always do, when you wake up beside him. He looks so angelic and peaceful. You chance a small kiss to his forehead that you don't deserve before tearing yourself away. He catches you, though, arm wrapping around your back to press you to him as his eyelids flutter open. It's silent for a moment before he kisses you. You melt embarrassingly fast in his arms before he pulls away with a sigh. It’s silent for a few moments before you speak.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say thickly, your heart aching.

“I know.”

“I should've told you. I wanted to tell you.”

“I know,” he smiles, his eyes sad. “Your soft spot is your family and the people around you. And you were stuck between two. I know because it's mine too.” You sigh, blinking back the sting of tears in your eyes. He brings your hand up to kiss your palm. “I forgive you. Now, just forgive yourself.”

A few stray tears make their way down your cheeks. He wipes them gently. “Sorry. You probably prefer a girl who’s much less messy than me,” you laugh weakly.

He shushes you. “In all your rawness, ugliness and truth, that's how I want you.” His words seep into you. He gives you a final kiss to your forehead before removing himself from the bed to get ready for work. You manage to do the same.

...

This new way of life continues for several weeks more. Yuta continues his attacks on the mob but not on the same level as before since Taeyong has been counterattacking and sabotaging his operation, thanks to your help. You continue to supply as much information as you can remember, like how many members Yuta has, where they’re active, who are their allies, what documents he kept in his ever-secretive files. It helps greatly and Yuta’s attacks seem to decrease by the next month.

Everyone’s coldness towards you seems to thaw until you are accepted back as their member, all except for Jungwoo. He still doesn’t speak to you as much as before and when he does, it's curt and quipped, with cold, short words, not spending more time in your presence than necessary. It torments you. You make up your mind to have a direct conversation with Jungwoo so that he knows how sorry you are. But you also haven’t been feeling well suddenly the last few days and have not come into the office all together. Yesterday, your stomach churned as soon as you woke up and Taeyong caught you throwing up in the bathroom. He was worried and fussy and you assured him it must have been some bad fish you ate the day before. He didn’t want to leave you alone, and outright refused at first to go to work, but you assured him you’ll take some medicine and will be fine in a few hours. He left only after ten minutes of convincing and a promise that you’d call him if you were not feeling well.

As soon as he left, you finally let the dread swallow you whole. Could you be pregnant? You recounted that night in Taeyong’s office months ago when you definitely didn't use a condom. You facepalmed. If only you two hadn’t been so far gone with each other that day, you would’ve remembered. You tried to relax. Maybe it was something else. You did, in fact, eat fish the day before. One pregnancy test would have solved this question but you decided to do it later. Today, you’re determined to come into work and talk to Jungwoo. Damn your queasy stomach. He’s your only focus. Thankfully, you manage not to throw up this morning and unnecessarily worry Taeyong. Instead, you get ready and drive to work with him. As soon as you get into the office, you make your way to Jungwoo who is busy with some emails on his computer.

“Jungwoo?” He doesn’t turn to face you, his full attention fixed on his screen. “Can we talk?” He sucks his teeth and doesn’t bother to turn around. “Look, I know I’ve-” An unpleasant nausea rises in your stomach, and suddenly you’re bolting towards the female restroom without another word. When you finally emerge back onto the main floor after emptying your guts, you spot Jungwoo staring at you from his desk, eyes narrowed suspiciously. You approach him, giving him a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Just some bad tuna.”

“For three days in a row?” He asks. You merely stare at him in question as to how he could possibly know that. “I know you haven’t come into work the past few days,” he answers. You stare at the ground, tapping your shoe against the carpet, feeling foolish. He releases a sigh. “Does Taeyong know?” You shake your head and grumble, rubbing your forehead.

“Why not?”

You exhale. “I… I'm still processing it myself. I'll tell him soon. I just need my head to clear.” you say wearily.

“Does anyone else know?” He asks. You shake your head. Jungwoo watches you with an unreadable expression. Then, he adjusts the chair beside him, the one that used to be yours. “Sit,” he instructs. You gaze at him with a glimmer of hope and obey. Once you do, he turns to face you, brows pinched in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Nauseous,” you grimace, pressing your hands to your abdomen. He bites back a laugh.

“I can guess. I meant your mind.”

You slink in your chair. “I'm scared. A mob at war is no place for a child.”

He nods. “And how do you feel about telling Taeyong?”

“Not much better. I’m sure he’ll be happy. I’m not worried about that. But for many months, I'll be… pregnant… and vulnerable.. With this war, if I fall into danger or if anybody takes me, I think he’ll destroy everything, even himself, trying to get me back.” You gaze at the carpet, deep in thought. “And I’m also afraid he’ll lock me up and never let me do anything out of fear for my safety.”

“Well, for the first one, you don't have to be pregnant for him to destroy everything to get you back,” Jungwoo says, smiling “And the second one, yeah, he would probably do that.”

You chuckle, glancing at him. “I know I have to tell him. I’m just… figuring out how to, I guess.”

“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you.

A few moments of silence settles between you. “I missed you,” you finally admit, watching the unguarded flinching emotion in his face before he attempts to shutter it away. You cover his hand with yours. “I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Jungwoo gazes at you then, sincerely, and whatever resistance he’s trying to put up against you fails. “I know. I'm sorry too. I'm here for you, you know?” You nearly tear up in relief. You tug him into a hug, which he reciprocates easily. Warmth spreads through your chest and to your heart that has been aching for months. Then, Jungwoo tugs himself away from you. “Careful, I don't want Boss yelling at me again.”

You laugh. “I won't let him do that. It's the reason why I got pregnant anyway,” you mumble.

He looks at you sharply “What?”

“Nothing!” You stand up suddenly. “I uh.. am late, bye.” You hear him laughing as you scurry off.

...

You join Taeyong in his office to help out on some work. Your stomach seems to settle down the rest of the day, thankfully. Your brain swims while you watch Taeyong work busily, trying to figure out how to break the news to him. Would he be happy? Of course he would. You know he wants this more than anything. You just have to work up the nerve. Maybe you can later, when you return home. The day ends and he drives you back to his place, as he’s been doing for weeks since you’ve moved in with him. “You know, it’s nice having you live with me. It feels almost as if we’re married.”

You snort. “We don’t argue enough to be married.”

He chuckles. “We’re happily married, how’s that?” He offers.

“Oh, so that’s why people specify the phrase ‘happily’ before the word ‘married’.”

“Yes,” he laughs. Once you get into his apartment and settle in, he gives you a look. “I would marry you, you know.”

Your cheeks heat up. He looks sincere. “Really?”

His eyes twinkle. “Yes.”

You gaze at him, speechless with emotion before you remember your news. “I need to tell you something.” His brows quirk as he undoes his wrist watch. Just then, the elevator dings behind you, signaling someone has gotten on from the bottom floor. Both of you freeze and turn to face the metal doors.

“That’s strange. No one has access to the elevator except Jungwoo. Did he tell you he was coming over?” Taeyong asks. You check your phone. No text messages or calls. Chills run down your spine as you stare at him and shake your head slowly. Taeyong’s eyes widen. Then, the doors ding open and you realize it’s most definitely not Jungwoo. “Y/n, get back!” Taeyong shouts.

Four or five men with guns step out of the doors and into the penthouse. It’s a surreal sight but they are all familiar. Yuta’s men. You scramble backwards away from them but one lunges to catch your sleeve and drag you off the chair towards them. You barely register Taeyong grabbing the gun from his dresser and aiming at them with a shout to let you go. The man who has you in his grip whirls you around to face Taeyong and presses a gun to your head. All the color drains from Taeyong’s face, but he doesn’t lower the gun. The man holding you captive growls behind you. “She belongs to us. We’re taking her back.” His arm bars your neck and presses hard until you wince. “Yes, bring even traitors like you back,” he snarls into your ear.

Taeyong flinches as if to make a move but all guns suddenly train on him and he freezes once more. You merely gaze at Taeyong, trying to apologize with your eyes. His face is hard, his eyes a storm of emotions. His gun is still aimed at your captors, both hands wrapped around the handle, one finger around the trigger but you know he’s outnumbered. The gun against your temple pushes into your skin. “If you make one move, we’ll shoot her right here.”

Taeyong’s eyes flash. “Why don’t you just take me instead? Or kill me? Isn’t that what your boss wanted from the beginning?”

“Because someone would just replace you. Why do you think Yuta didn’t just send her as an assassin? We want to destroy your organization from the inside out. And she,” the gun nudges your head. “Is the key. She knows all your secrets by now. And as long as we have her, we’ll control you.” Another man speaks up. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t kill you and her if you try anything.”

“It's okay. I’ll be okay.” You reassure Taeyong as calmly as you can.

Taeyong’s eyes shine, the gun wavering in his hands before he lowers it. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”With that, the men are stepping back into the elevator, dragging you with them. Your last view is Taeyong’s distressed, anguished face before the metal doors close.

...

After a never ending van ride with your familiar kidnappers calling you a traitor and telling you to wait until Yuta gets his hands on you, you end up back at his base, sitting in a dark, empty room with a single chair and a lightbulb dangling above you. You know this room. It’s one of the rooms they used to question enemies and prisoners, although “question” is an understatement, you think, spotting the faded bloodstains on the ground. Just then, the door opens to reveal a familiar face with long red hair. “Long time no see, Boss” you hum as Yuta steps into the dim light of the room.

He looks angry. His eyes glint as he slowly circles you. “Yes,” he gives a fake smile. “I recall the last time I saw you, when you were still loyal.”

“Yes, that was a while ago. Many things have changed since then.”

He snorts. “Things, huh?” He stops in front of you, peering down. “Why don’t you tell me every single piece of intel you know about that place, just like I ordered you to?”

You match his glare. “Do you need it? You seem to be managing fine against them on your own.”

Yuta grits his teeth. “Not anymore. Your boyfriend put up a good fight against us. You saw to that, I’m sure.”

“How did you manage to do that much damage in the first place?” You ask.

“I wasn’t aware this was my interrogation session.” He growls. “Besides, I don’t answer to traitors. You’re lucky you're even alive to ask questions. I could've had you killed for your treachery instead of being taken.”

You huff out a laugh. “Then you would’ve lost your precious chance to use me to take down Taeyong’s mob.”

His eyes flare. “Right, Taeyong. The one you threw everything out for.”

“I told you when you gave me this case and I didn’t want to take this one. I told you the risk.”

“I didn't think we’d lose you so easily. After ten years, you throw that loyalty away?”

You glare at him. “Ten years is not enough for me to put my loyalty to you over him.”

He seems to falter. Then, he steels himself, eyes flashing with anger. “How long then? Twenty years?” You don’t reply. ”Fifty? One hundred?” When you still don’t respond, he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t believe this.”

“It's not personal, it's just-”

“Yes, it is personal!” He jabs a finger into your face. “I send you to do a job and you throw out everything we built together over some crush!?”

“You know by now it’s not some crush!” You bite back. The anger on his face crumbles a little into surprise. You sigh frustratedly. “You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice. I was stuck between you and him. I couldn’t betray either of you. Do you know I didn’t rat you out right away? I didn’t tell Taeyong or anyone until you sent me that fucking note. And when I did tell them, it was because I was going to leave and come back to you. That’s when they saw me as a traitor. I was loyal and a traitor to both sides.”

Yuta falls silent for a few moments before speaking quietly. “But you didn’t come back to me. You stayed and helped him take me down. You made your decision in the end.”

“Yes, I did. But it’s because you were going to kill him. It’s not because you meant nothing to me.”

He falls quiet again. “Tell me what you know of the Scorpion, Y/n.” You stay silent, staring at the floor. “You know this business. If you don't tell me what you know and prove to me your allegiance, you’re of no use to me.”

“What then? Are you going to torture me? Kill me?” You ask him. “Would you do that to me, Yuta?”

He doesn’t respond. He only turns and walks out the door, speaking over his shoulder. “You have one day to make up your mind.”

....

Taeyong is losing his mind. Jungwoo has never seen him like this. He called an emergency meeting, had people come back into the office to assemble in the conference room, and proceeded to pace and ramble and stumble over his words as he tried to explain the situation. He runs his hand through his hair until it stuck up on the ends, even stopping to kick a chair over in frustration. Jungwoo still can’t believe you were taken from his apartment. He figures they must have tracked you somehow. “I want everyone to split up and come up with plans to get her back,” Taeyong orders, his voice uneven. “We already know where his base is, thanks to her. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes. Dismissed.”

The room empties out with people already mumbling ideas. Taeyong goes back to pacing, scratching the back of his head nervously before growing taut. Then, he kicks another chair over with a frustrated grunt. It’s only then does he notice Jungwoo is still in the room. “Ah,” he blinks, embarrassed, staring at the chair. “I was just… just frustrated.”

“I know this is a dumb question, but are you okay?” Jungwoo asks.

Taeyong’s face crumbles into despair. “They just took her… right out from under me, they just came in and pointed a gun at her head and took her.”

“I know,” Jungwoo tries to sound soothing. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

Taeyong doesn’t look reassured. His brows are pinched and his lips have been twisted in a perpetual frown since he walked in here. “We have to come up with a plan.”

Jungwoo nods. “Any ideas so far?”

Taeyong chews his lip. “Maybe we can just raid his base with sheer manpower. She can figure out how to run or hide in the commotion. If she gets her hand on a weapon, she can even help us out before we get her out of there.”

Jungwoo’s stomach churns, remembering how, just today, you couldn’t get through a full conversation with him without vomiting. Worse yet, you’ve been like this for the past three days. The plan doesn’t seem like the best idea given your condition. “I don’t know about having her join the fight. We have to keep her protected at all costs.”

Taeyong looks at him inquisitively. “I mean, she can handle herself. She’s a trained soldier.”

Jungwoo realizes you never got the chance to tell Taeyong the truth. “She didn’t tell you?”

Taeyong blinks. “Tell me what?”

“She’s pregnant.”

Silence blares loudly in the room for a full minute. All emotion drains from Taeyong’s face only to be replaced with shock. “What?”

“She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up just this morning.”

Taeyong looks dazed. “She’s pregnant..?” Jungwoo nods. Taeyong’s eyes become misty. He suddenly grips his forehead. “She told me it was bad tuna.”

Jungwoo bites back a laugh. “She told me that too.” He watches Taeyong blink back tears and take a breath, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Boss, listen. We can't let her fight on her own. She’s not well as it is and can barely keep her food down. On top of that, the baby…”

“The baby...” Taeyong breathes. His eyes are a million miles away. “Her and my baby… and,” His eyes grow cold, jaw clenching. “And Yuta took her.”

“Yes, he did.” Jungwoo says. “And he might kill her tonight if she doesn't give him any useful information.”

All panic is gone from Taeyong. Now he’s cold, rigid, familiar, the one that Jungwoo is used to. “We’re not going to show mercy.” Taeyong growls. “And we’ll find a way that doesn't put her.. or.. our baby.. at risk.”

Jungwoo grins. “Yes, Boss.”

...

You’re locked in a cell for the night. Not really a cell, more like one of their spare bedrooms that can be locked from the outside. It’s not too bad; it has a bed and a bucket. The bucket is particularly useful for your nausea bouts that have started up again since they locked you in here. Even if you try to escape, it will be difficult in your condition. Fatigue aches throughout your body. Your head feels light and your stomach is perpetually queasy. Being kidnapped, questioned and thrown into a cell certainly hasn’t helped. At least they gave you some semblance of a dinner, you think, eyeing the slop of food in a bowl on your table.

You can’t sleep, obviously, and opt to keep your mind busy during this insufferable silence. You try to trace how Yuta knew where Taeyong’s penthouse was in order to kidnap you. Then, it hits you. Your old cell phone that you threw out because Yuta was tracking it - you did that after you visited Taeyong’s place for the first time. Yuta must have just figured that any place you were staying at for a long stretch of time that wasn’t the office or your apartment was Taeyong’s.You wonder what Taeyong must be thinking. He was so panicked when you saw him last, understandably. You told him the location of Yuta’s base weeks ago, so he definitely knows where you are. He’s probably on his way here right now, or hopefully before tomorrow.

You wonder if Yuta would really have you killed tomorrow if you don’t cooperate. He’s always been strict, mean, ruthless, but never entirely heartless. You find it hard to imagine him being able to execute you after spending a decade together.

Suddenly, the sound of shouting and banging doors erupts from outside. Then, gunfire. You shoot up in bed and catch the sight of people running to and fro through the small window of your door. It looks like Taeyong came early after all.

...

“We attack from the front main entrance in heavy numbers. Jungwoo, you lead this group. A small group will loop around the side. There should be a back entrance that will likely not be guarded because of the commotion at the front. I’ll slip in there and find her,” Taeyong instructed the team.

They follow it perfectly. As Taeyong slips through the back entrance and descends into the underground base, he hears shouting, gunfire and footsteps bounding down hallways. He quietly navigates the abandoned backrooms. He vaguely remembers you describing the layout of this place once. If he remembers correctly, the place where they hold prisoners should be…He turns the corner and finds a series of doors lining the entire hallway. Behind each one is a bedroom. All of them are empty except for one whose light is filtering through the small window of its door. Anticipation swells inside him as he dashes to the room, muttering a prayer that you be okay.

The door is locked. He curses and peers through the window. He sees your face, alarmed and caught off guard before you register that it’s him. The sweetest relief floods him at the sight of you unharmed. You mouth something that he can't hear before you motion to the outside wall at the end of the hallway. He follows the line of sight and spots keys dangling on a wall hook. He dashes over to grab them before running back, unlocking the door and shouldering it open. You’re swallowed in a hug so quickly you can barely breathe. Taeyong’s arms are around you, squeezing you to him, tucking you under his chin, before running through your hair and cupping your cheeks. He’s mumbling questions and you realize he's checking to see if you're injured. You can feel him trembling. “Hey, hey, I’m okay,” you reassure him, holding his hands that are cupping your cheeks.

Anxiety bleeds from his face. He checks you one again, then pulls you in for another crushing hug. You can’t help but sigh and melt in his arms, grateful that he’s here. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs.

“It's not your fault.” You rub his back. Another round of gunfire erupts in the background. “We have to get out of here.”

He pulls away. “No, we’re not running. Yuta will just come after us. We’re going to defeat him here.”

Your stomach flips. “Defeat… Will you kill him?”

Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Yes. He was going to kill you wasn't he?”

“I know… I just-” More gunfire rings out. You turn to Taeyong. “Give me a gun. I can help. I know their weaknesses and where to hide in this place.”

Emotion envelops his face. He cups your cheek softly. “Not this time.”

“Why not?”

“You… the baby…” he trails off, his eyes shining.

“Oh,” you swallow. “Jungwoo told you.”

He releases a breath, lips curling into a small smile before he presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, he did.”

The sounds of gunfire and shouting grow louder. “I can help, Taeyong. It can make a lot of difference out there. What if our guys run into a dead end hallway and get shot down? I can help everyone navigate this place, especially where to retreat to.”

He pulls away from you. “No.”

Your eyes roam his face. “Please. I'll hide. What if you take more losses because you could have used me?”

“That’s a risk I'll take.”

“Taeyong…”

“Please, just for this one time, please do as I say.”

You fall silent. He’s never given you an order before. His hand slips from your cheek as he turns towards the door and the sound of gunfire. You make a last attempt. “I'll hide, I'll keep safe. I just want to help.” He shakes his head one more time, steps out of the room and closes the door, automatically locking it from the outside. You speechlessly stare at him through the small window. He gives an apologetic look before running off. You stare in disbelief and then rattle the door handle. It doesn't budge. The sound of gunfire rises and you anxiously wonder if it's because Taeyong entered their line of sight. If he gets hurt again when you could've done something about it….

You slam your palms against the door this time, desperation and anger rising inside of you. He locked you in here like another prisoner. “This is not happening,” you mumble. More gunfire rings out. Someone shouts in pain. Tears sting your eyes. There must be some way.

You look through the door window at the ground of the hallway outside and spot the keys on the floor close by. Taeyong must've dropped them as soon as he unlocked the door and ran to hug you. You kneel and find a big enough gap under the door for your palm. You stick your hand out, fingers brushing the edge of the keys. You pinch them with your fingertips and drag it through the door successfully.

You stand up and exhale in victory, fumbling with the keys. You unlock the door from your side and make your escape. Gunfire echoes from all around you, from every floor and hallway. Most of the people you find along the way are unconscious or too injured to fight, and a few you fear may be dead. Most of them are Yuta’s men. You know almost all of them and it makes your heart ache. Then, you hear Taeyong’s shout and all blood drains to your legs. You sprint into the main hall and spot Taeyong’s familiar pistol on the floor by the door to Yuta’s office, which is open. Your stomach lurches and panic seizes your brain. You fight down the rising nausea in your stomach and run through the door.

Taeyong is bleeding on the floor in front of you, clutching his leg while Yuta stands by his desk, the same spot where he gave you this mission all those days ago. His gun is aimed directly at Taeyong. Without thinking, you hurl yourself into his path.

“Stop!” You shout.

“Y/n!?” Yong shouts in disbelief. “What are you doing here!? I told you to stay there!”

You glare at Yuta who’s been frozen since you first stepped in his line of sight. “If you’re going to shoot him, you’ll have to shoot me first.”

Yuta stares at you, gun still aimed. His face is hard but uncertain. “You’d give up your life just for him?” You don’t respond but your expression is all Yuta needs as an answer. Taeyong gives a protesting groan behind you. The sound of gunfire tapers off in the distance. The raid sounds like it's coming to a close. Yuta releases a breath, his gun wavering. “All I wanted to do was take down the Scorpion. You made it so, so difficult. I only retaliated.” Yuta grits his teeth.

“You harassed my people, infiltrated my organization, and tried to assassinate me. Taking her was the final slight,” Taeyong growled. “Don’t act like you are the victim.”

Yuta glowers. “Y/n, I will let you walk out of here right now if you step out of the way.”

“Walk away, huh? So what about that ultimatum you gave me when you brought me back here?” You ask him. “You were never going to kill me if I didn't give you intel because you can’t do it.”

Yuta avoids your eyes and doesn't respond. You were right; he has a soft spot for you too. “So, what’s it going to be? Will you kill us both?” you ask.

Silence fills the room. His gun is still trained on you. Then, you hear Taeyong’s voice from behind you. “She's pregnant.”

Shock envelops Yuta’s face. His gun wobbles before he lowers it. He seems to search for confirmation in your face and finds it. He groans, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

You stare at him, perplexed. He turns around and grips the edge of his desk, head falling forward in defeat. When you realize he’s not going to shoot, you immediately kneel by Taeyong’s side and check his injuries. There's a gash below his knee but it doesn't seem terribly serious. “Y/n,” Taeyong whispers. “Grab my gun back there and shoot him while he’s distracted.”

You freeze. “What? I can’t do that.”

Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Y/n-“

“She won’t kill me if that’s what you're whispering about," Yuta calls, sighing heavily before turning around to face you once more. “She’s too soft. Too attached.” His head falls forward. “What a fucking weakness,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

“And you?” Taeyong glares. “You won't kill me as soon as she's not in your line of sight?”

Yuta only looks on tiredly. “No. I’m not going to take a father away from his kid before it's even born.” Silence fills the room. It looks like Taeyong doesn’t know what to think. You remember how Yuta has always refused to hurt children and, if he could help it, parents. It's why he and his father gave you a chance to join this mob when your family was on the run. Similar to Taeyong, there's a softness behind the ruthlessness that sets their mobs apart from all others in the city. “Everything I built is gone,” Yuta sighs tiredly. “Most of my men are dead or injured, my base is discovered.”

You help Taeyong sit up, and tear a cloth from your shirt to wrap it around his wound. “We both did some bad damage,” Taeyong grunts as you tend to his injury. “We seriously compromised each other. Worse yet, we’re the two biggest mobs in the city and now we’re handicapped. The worse, less moral, more violent ones will try to take over.”

Yuta hisses. “The ones peddling drugs and trafficking humans. They will turn this city into a fucking warzone while vying for power.”

Taeyong nods in agreement. His bleeding seems to have stopped. He sits up with a wince. Yuta stares glumly at the ground.

“Maybe you both can come to a truce,” You suggest, catching their attention. “I know we’re literally sitting in the aftermath of a bloodbath of a mob war but… if you have a common interest, maybe you can come to an agreement or ceasefire or….” you trail off as both men stare at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You sigh exasperatedly. “Do you want Johnny’s mob taking over? The one that's already terrorizing that club we went to and probably every other establishment in the city?”

Taeyong and Yuta exchange glances. They seem to come to a begrudging, silent understanding. Taeyong turns to you. “Ceasefire for now. We’ll… talk about this later. We have to check on our members.”

You eye Yuta in question. His eyes are narrowed and you know he’s mulling over every angle and opportunity in his head. In the end, he exhales. “Fine. Ceasefire. Go tend to your wounded.”

...

In all, a handful were injured. A few died. You find Jungwoo unharmed and give him the tightest possible hug. Once you leave the base, Taeyong gets checked over at a hospital. They don’t ask any questions, as always, since they have a general idea he’s with the mob that runs the city. You stay with him overnight until he's discharged in the morning. Both of you return to his place after that and try to recover over the next few days. Taeyong orders the office closed for a few weeks. He says that, after everything that’s happened, people need time to process the loss of life, assess the damages and heal mentally and physically. Yuta honors the ceasefire and, for a few weeks, it seems as if there is peace.

A few days after the raid, you finally register the dull anger broiling in your stomach. You find yourself keeping a slight distance from Taeyong whenever he’s nearby and you realize, for the first time, that you are angry with him. He realizes this too and finally speaks on it one evening when both of you are watching television in his bedroom. “Back in Yuta’s base, you know why I had to leave you in there, right?”

“No, I don't.” You sit up from the bed to face him. “You almost died. Maybe it all would’ve been better if I joined and we talked Yuta down sooner.”

Taeyong frowns. “Or he would’ve hurt you. You trust in his goodness too much. I was only trying to protect you.”

“It didn't feel like protection. It felt like an easy way to guarantee your peace of mind at the cost of my free will.” You stare at him. “You cannot make decisions for me.”

“I can if you’re carrying our child.” He glares back.

You purse your lips. “I’m aware that I need to protect myself and the baby, but I wanted to protect other people too, just like you. That isn’t something you can order me not to do. You’re not the Boss in everything.” You pull away from him and slide off the bed.

“Y/n.” His expression of anger turns to pleading.

“Do you know how helpless I felt? You could have been dying and I would have been stuck behind that door. And if all of you were killed, what then? I’d just be stuck there, with no one to come get me out.”

“But we weren't killed and you did get out. Somehow,” he says bluntly. His expression looks like a parent’s who is chastising their child for disobeying orders. The look you gave must have been so full of disappointment since he sighs and acquiesces. “I wasn't thinking much at the time. I was just afraid you’d deny my order and run into combat, which you did. I… needed to keep you somewhere safe.”

“Keep me or lock me?” You huff. “It felt so insulting to be physically locked away and not being allowed to do what I thought was best at the time in my mind because fear clouded yours. Why are your wishes more important than mine?”

Taeyong visibly slumps against the headboard. “No. They are not more important. I was just.. selfish and scared. When they..” He falters before his voice comes out shaky. “When they came here, put a gun to your head and took you from my own place where I should've been able to keep you safe, I thought you were dead. I lost it. Every minute when I didn't know you were okay, I was losing my mind.” He releases a heavy sigh, blinking back tears. “Then when I saw you again unharmed in that cell, I was so relieved. I couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger again and I just acted on my feelings.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart lurches. You climb back into his bed and take him into your arms. “I didn't think of that. I’m sorry too.” He sniffs and presses himself closer. What a mess, you think. Injured twice, put in danger’s path too many times, all with a baby on the way. “This is no life for a child,” you sigh, tickling his hairs under your chin. “I wish we could get away from all this.”

His hand presses against your stomach. “Maybe we can.” You glance at him in question. “I can step down as boss. We can abandon this violent life, raise our child safely and live in peace.”

You blink, gazing down at him. “That sounds like a dream. But you said the mob was compromised and the city will suffer.”

His words come out muffled against your chest. “Maybe Yuta could take over.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. “What?”

You pull back to look at him. He sighs, propping his head on his arm. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I can’t think straight right now. Too much has happened recently.” He glances at you. “But we originally kept other mobs in check. We kept the city stable and safe to an extent. But now, we’ve destroyed each other. Others will challenge us. If we merge into one organization, we can consolidate power and retain our standing.” He chances a look up at you. “Besides, I’m impressed with how he was so good at finding out our top secret information. He might be a boon to our team.”

You release a breath, sliding down against the headboard. “I never thought I’d hear that from you.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t know the extent of the damage we were doing to each other until we were in his base, surrounded by bodies, from both sides. Not to mention our months of attacks against each other before that.” he sighs. “People have taken it hard here. We are weakened.” He says. “And Yuta didn’t…. he kill me when he could have. I would have killed him in his position. I guess that’s something.”

You gaze at him. “So is this the truce you will offer him? Merging? And you’ll step down and make him boss?”

He winces. “I don’t know about making him boss. He can run his own unit as part of our larger organization if he chooses. But I’ll step down.” He says, smiling. “And we can live far away from the violence and never think about it again.”

“That… sounds almost too good to be true.”

He takes your hand and kisses it. “We deserve it after all these years. I want to be a father rather than a kingpin. I’d much rather be by your side raising our baby and being your h… um,” he averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Being domestic.”

Your heart melts, noticing the pink tint to his cheeks. “You do love domesticity.” You chuckle. “Who will take your place then?”

Taeyong grins. “I think someone deserves a promotion.”

...

Over the next few weeks, Taeyong notifies Yuta of the proposed plan, who begrudgingly accepts. He also tells the office about the news of the merger, earning loud protests of outrage. “We’re supposed to work alongside the people that killed us!?” One member shouts.

Taeyong gazes around the conference room. “It’s either this or we close down. Given what’s happened, it will be extremely difficult to climb back to where we were,” he explains. “We will be vulnerable to attacks by other mobs and more people will die. If we don’t come to an agreement with Yuta, he might begin attacking us again as well. This will repeat for a while.” Grumbled murmurs echo around the room. “Also, I will be stepping down.”

That gets even louder shouts. Taeyong raises his hands signaling everyone to settle down.

“You said we’re compromised but you’re going to leave us without a leader!?” A woman protests.

“Someone will replace me, of course. Someone who is far better suited to the position than me, someone who is much more intelligent and perceptive will be a force to be reckoned with if anyone dares challenge us from now on.” Taeyong smiles, eyes fixing on one person. “Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo looks stunned. The mumbles of protests pause entirely for a few moments before they turn into cheers and hollers. Someone slaps him on the back a few times in congratulations and he blinks as if in a daze. “Me? As Boss?”

Taeyong grins. “Do you accept?” Jungwoo blinks furiously before nodding. “Then, congratulations.” The room bursts into applause. Absolutely no one objects to his appointment. Jungwoo has always been the most intelligent and discerning, and will no doubt be a force to be reckoned with against any of the mob’s enemies. Within a few days, Taeyong officially hands over the position, his office, and the reigns to his right hand.

...

In the following weeks, Taeyong exchanges a few calls with Yuta, mostly on how to merge the organizations, and discuss grievances and conditions. They settle on some specific deal you don’t understand, but it must be adequate since Yuta agrees to merge and actually comes over to the office for a few meetings. Within a month, they officially merge and things seem to stabilize and run smoothly. Jungwoo takes to the new role quickly as well. He already knows the inner workers of the mob so he needs very little training. In turn, Taeyong is able to resign fully. Jungwoo insists on throwing a going away party, filled with some teary goodbyes, congratulations and well wishes with the pregnancy. From here, you can begin to believe things will actually get better.

With all the new free time, Taeyong is able to help take care of you for the rest of your pregnancy. He supports you through all your woes, like making you food, holding your hair back while you’re hurling into the toilet, massaging your aching muscles. Some nights he props his chin onto your stomach, speaking to the baby with a light in his eyes. It’s the deepest peace you’ve ever felt. A month later, your morning sickness evens out and you identify the faintest change in the protrusion of your stomach. A baby bump. When you first show him, Taeyong is over the moon. He can’t keep his hands off your tummy. His eyes shine and lips are curled into a smile that stays for a week. It’s also when you chance a question at Taeyong that you meant as a suggestion, just something to think about, but it changes everything. It’s when you’re lounging in bed, one of those restful days. Sunlight pours in through the blinds and the television is low in the background. “Taeyong?” He hums in question. “Do you want to get married?”

A beat of silence passes. “...What?” You chance a glance at him. He’s absolutely shocked. Heat flares on your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I don't know… I just thought maybe someday we can. I know we don't have to, but I just thought we’re going to be together… I mean, forever, right?” You blush. “That came out cheesy. I meant neither of us have any intention to leave, so might as well-”

He cuts you off with a kiss and pulls away before you can even process it. “Yes, yes, yes,” he litters butterfly kisses across your face and pulls you into a hug. You melt, laughing into his shoulder. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You giggle. “We’re already having a whole kid together.”

“I don’t know,” he pulls back, a smile curled wide over his lips. It’s wonderful to see him happy. “I want to. I definitely want to.”

Your heart soars. “Then let’s get married.”

....

It’s short work to plan your wedding. Neither if you want it too large, but much of the office is invited to reception afterwards. It arrives in another month, your belly swelling a little bit more by then, but not noticeable under your wedding dress. The ceremony is emotional and filled with reverence. You’ll never forget the sight of your groom in his tux, shining eyes and smile, calling you his wife and him your husband, the words like magic on your tongue. The reception afterwards is a jubilant contrast, full of dancing and drinking. A few colleagues, including Jungwoo, pat you on the back in congratulations. You pass the night in a tizzy of dancing and laughing until a familiar figure enters the hall. You think it’s a stranger before you realize it’s Yuta. He spots you, eyes running over your wedding dress before giving you a smile. “Yuta?” You ask in disbelief. “I can’t believe…”

“That I'm here at your wedding? Neither can I.” He laughs a little, surveying the venue hall before focusing on you again. “Taeyong invited me.” You stare at him in surprise. He shrugs. “We are business partners and all.” He grabs a glass of champagne off of a passing waiter’s dish. “Surprisingly, it seems that your husband and I work well together.”

You bite your tongue but can’t seem to hold the words back. “How can we know that you’re not going to split and attack us again when you’ve recovered enough power?”

He blinks. “What, and repeat the same cycle that ended me up here? Don’t worry. I’m not that stupid, sweetheart.” He says, and suddenly, you’re the one who feels stupid. “You look beautiful by the way. Your father would have been proud.” Emotion grips you without warning. Yuta gives you a final smile and turns away, sipping his champagne as he disappears in the mesh of guests and dancing.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of chatter, smiles, drinks, dancing and food. When the night ends, you and Taeyong climb into his car to the whoops and hollers of the crowd, and drive back to his place. You both would have been tipsy out of your mind and gone straight to bed, but since you can’t drink, Taeyong refuses to as well, claiming emotional support. That leaves time for other things.

“Alright, how do you want this to go down?” You ask, undoing your jewelry in front of his vanity.

Taeyong laughs, unzipping your dress when you offer your back to him. “You mean for our wedding night?” You nod as you slip off the gown and sigh at the freedom of not being weighed down by a thousand pounds of fabric. He eyes you as you undo the rest of your jewelry, your hair and underclothes. “I can think of one thing.”

“And what’s that?” You ask, catching sight of him through the mirror. He’s leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed, still dressed in his tux but without the jacket, looking as handsome as ever.

"I think I'd like to be your plaything for a while.” Your brain grinds to a halt. You turn to blankly stare at him. He smirks. "What's the matter?” He reaches out to place his hands on your hips. "I promise I won't resist whatever you want to do to me.”

You swallow thickly. “You’re teasing me.”

"Oh, I'm not teasing you at all, love,” He smiles softly, his hands tightening slightly around your hips. "I'm giving myself up to you.” You blink hard. A former kingpin at the complete mercy of his wife. Just the thought of it has heat blazing through your body. His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. "Play with me, tease me, do this however you want. I’m yours,” his lips brush your jaw. “I’ll be your good boy.”

You inhale deeply as his arms wrap around your waist and press you to him. “You’ll do anything?” He hums in acknowledgement, kissing down your neck. “Alright,” you test, “kneel for me.”

He smirks, and steps away from you. He then kneels down, lowering himself until his knees hit the ground and he’s peering up at you. “You… you actually did it.” you breathe.

His eyes dance with amusement. "What, did you expect me to disobey you?” He chuckles softly, and his eyes going dark. "Or is it just seeing me on my knees that's making you lose your train of thought?”

“Uh… yes.. it's the knees.”

He grins, reaching out to caress your calf. “Now what should I do?”

“I don't know. I didn't think I'd get this far.”

He laughs. Then, he takes your hand and begins kissing your palm. “Use me, love.”

Heat flares in your stomach. You cup his cheek gently. “Would anyone have suspected the mob king lord of everything was so submissive? And obedient at that?”

He nuzzles into your hand. “I think they all know me pretty well. Besides, I’m only like this for you.”

“Hmm,” you move your hand to cup his chin and rest your thumb on his bottom lip. You do it out of curiosity, but his lips close around your thumb without hesitation. His dark eyes burn into yours as his tongue circles your thumb. You are struck with a flashback to that evening in the office, how he held you down against his desk with his gaze burning into yours and ate you within an inch of your life. Heat burns and pools through your body. You pull your hand away, tug him up to stand again and kiss him hard. He groans into your lips, arms wrapping tightly around your waist and mouth parting immediately to grant you entrance. He lets you completely dominate the kiss, your tongue sliding past his lips. His demeanor is so different from that time in his office. He’s much more vocal now, whiney even. His lips are soft and pliant, his brows knitted in slight desperation, his hands roaming over your body. You break for air and plant kisses under his jaw.

“My good boy,” you mumble. His eyes flutter closed and he releases a loud groan. You pull away to take him in. His lips are stained from your lipstick, his hair that was neatly combed before now slightly messy, his dress shirt rumpled, eyes lidded and mouth panting. “Get on the bed.” He obeys quickly. You watch as he settles against the headboard before waiting for your next order, his eyes expectant and eager to please. “Take off your vest and shirt.” He listens without complaint. He tilts his head back to undo the tie at his collar before throwing it to the floor, then unbuttons his vest and dress shirt underneath. He works with urgency, nimble fingers determinedly undoing every part of his ensemble all because you asked.

Now free from your garments except your slip underdress, you comfortably climb onto the bed to rest beside him. His dark eyes fixate on you as the final button is undone. He tears off his dress shirt and throws it off to the side, revealing his familiar bare torso that encourages your eyes to run across his tattoos.“You’re beautiful,” you mumble before leaning over and kissing him deep. He melts immediately, hands cupping your cheeks to pull you closer. You pull away abruptly to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck until he’s groaning lowly and melting into the mattress. You nip his skin with the slightest nick of your teeth as you travel down to his collarbone. It has a profound effect on him, pulling shallow breaths and moans from his lips. Your lips travel over his heart and down his chestline. His breathing turns harsh, and moans grow louder. You opt then to lick down his abdomen, leaving him shivering.

You glance up at him. You figure your gaze must have been dark and full of lust because he looks completely wrecked and held immobile. His cheeks are flushed, lips stained red, pupils dilated. You maintain eye contact as you kiss and lick and nip down the rest of his abdomen, urging his muscles to quiver and flex the lower you go. Once you get to his pantline, he’s already straining against his slacks. You press a final kiss to the spot below his navel, earning a jump of his muscle and a low groan from him, before undoing his belt and tugging the garment completely off his legs, along with his boxers. You don't wait to press kisses to his thighs. His hard cock is so easily within reach but you choose to litter kisses along his hips, thighs, and navel instead. You tease until he’s whimpering and pressing his hips up from the mattress and towards your mouth. When you kiss the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, he gasps, tangles his fingers in your hair and moans. “Please, Y/n.”

“Please what?”

His hazy eyes manage to focus on you. “Please stop teasing.”

You hum, moving to suck the juncture of his pelvis while your hand not-so-accidentally grazes his balls. “You mean like this?”

He gasps harshly, fingers tightening in your hair, head tilting against his pillow. “Y-Yes, yes like that.”

“But I don’t want to stop. Not until you’re completely gone, and begging and teary for me.” You see him swallow, eyes darkening a few shades. He barely has time to find a response before you’re back to kissing, sucking, and biting his thighs until he’s panting and whining once more. After a few more minutes, you can tell that his mental cohesion is slipping. His brows are knitted, bottom lip bitten and red, eyes helpless with the slightest hint of desperate tears.

“Please, please, please Y/n,” he babbles, gasping at your tongue on his hip bone. His hands are still in your hair and you allow them to stay there so long as he isn't forcing your head towards where he needs you the most.

“Just a little longer. You said you wanted to be my plaything, didn’t you?”

He shivers at that, eyes clenching shut. His cheeks are flush much more now. “I can’t take it anymore.”

You hum as you mouth along his pelvis. “Tell me what you want.”

“You mouth,” he moans brokenly.

“You already have my mouth,” you say, pointedly ignoring the straining, leaking cock within reach.

His eyes fly open when you mouth his balls, suckling the skin. He shivers hard, eyes rolling back. He pants harshly, fighting to remember words. He trembles under you, hands shaky in your hair. “On my cock, please, please.”

“As you wish.” When your lips close around his cock finally, his face twists into a pained grimace. You slowly stroke him with your lips, tongue swirling around his length, pulling harsher breaths and shivers from him. His eyelids flutter and are so deeply lidded they are almost closed. He seems to fight to keep them open if only to take in the sight of you between his legs. You take him up till his base, enveloping him entirely with his mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat. He arches and releases a deep groan. He twitches in your mouth, and you realize he’s already close. You take the liberty to speed up, your lips meeting the hilt each time, tongue swirling around his length. He gasps harshly for breath, back arching, hips trembling and bucking up to meet you before you hold them down with your hands. You suck him faster, making his moans grow higher in pitch until he’s suddenly seizing up, tight and still, his head pressing back into the pillows and back arched beautifully. His warmth fills your mouth and you groan, relishing it as you swallow. He’s shaking everywhere as collapses on the bed with another breathless moan.

You continue licking him clean while he pants to catch his breath. He’s still hard in your mouth, you realize, and you can’t help continue sucking him until he’s flinching and tugging you off of him by your hair. “Ah, too much.” You relent, thinking you’re tormented him enough for one night, and press a final kiss to his hip. He pulls you up to kiss him, hands reverently cupping your cheeks, mouth and tongue moving leisurely against you. When he pulls away, he has stars in his eyes. “You’re amazing.”

You laugh. “It was that good, huh?”

He presses another kiss. “I think I almost blacked out.”

You laugh. He guides your leg over his hip to straddle him comfortably. You kiss his palm. “Y/n,” his eyes shine, cheeks still flushed. “Tell me I’m perfect.” You blink at him and he explains. “The first day you came to us, when we talked in my office, I told you I looked like a toad and you said I was perfect.” He flushes “I couldn't tell you at the time how it made me feel, but now I can.” He kisses your hand. “Tell me I’m perfect. Tell me everything.”

Your heart melts at his pleading, vulnerable eyes. You hope he knows you’ll give him everything he asks for. You give him a soft kiss. “You’re perfect,” you say, watching his eyes glow with your praise. You litter kisses across his cheeks and forehead. “You’ve always been perfect. You’re sweet and strong and kind and you’re mine. Absolutely perfect.”

He shivers and groans, hands pulling you roughly against his lips to kiss you. You melt into him, hands running through his hair, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. You slip off your underdress and the rest of your garments, watching his eyes darken. When you straddle him again, you’re already so wet from having him in your mouth from before. You slide him in easily up til the hilt, pleasure bursting across your eyelids while he grips your hips like a vice, lips parted and head tilted back against the pillows. This time, it’s slow and passionate, just like your first. You bend low to kiss him and barely allow a few inches of distance the entire time you ride him. You relish his groans, his fluttering eyes. Praises fall from your lips in abundance, without pause or restraint, and you watch the flush of his cheeks grow darker after each one until he's vulnerable and moaning and tucking his head into your neck, coming inside you a second time with a broken whimper. It hurls you towards your own edge, gripping and contracting around his length as you hold onto him for dear life.

When the moments passed, the vice grips on each other loosen, and both of you catch your breath. He doesn’t let you roll off him onto the mattress. Instead he holds you close, pressing one hand to your stomach, which still looks barely different than before, but his eyes shine as if the baby is already here.

...

The rest of the pregnancy is blissful. It consists of buying baby items, picking out names, cleaning out Taeyong’s guest room and setting it up for the baby, though both of you know it will probably end up sleeping in your room with the guest room used for nothing other than storage. As the date approaches, Taeyong gets increasingly more anxious. You try to calm him and redirect his focus to baby proofing the entire penthouse, which works well. He’s adorable, nervous and tittering, worried if he’ll be a good enough father. You remind him again and again that he will be.

When the day finally comes and contractions erupt and you’re whisked away to the hospital, Taeyong is a mess. Jungwoo even visits to calm him down, which works. By the end of a long day, a baby girl is born. He’s absolutely enamored, and has her in his arms all night, rocking her gently, cooing and speaking soft words that have her falling quiet to listen. Sometimes, he remembers to tear his eyes away to give you a teary, beaming smile. It’s enough to make you the happiest person alive. Upon coming home, it takes many sleepless nights for you two to get the hang of it - the feeding, the crying, the burping. Within a few weeks, though, it’s a natural order, a timetable, a cycle. Tonight is one of those rare ones when you’ve miraculously gotten the baby to sleep a few hours longer. Taeyong and you relish the few moments of quiet and try to get some sleep.

“You’re a good mother, you know,” he mumbles sleepily in bed, arm thrown around your waist. “I’m glad she looks like you.”

His words envelop you in warmth. “I think she looks more like you, actually. Don’t you see her giant brown eyes that take up half her face?”

He chuckles and makes your heart flutter even after all this time. “My eyes are not that big.”

You cup his cheek. “They are and they’re wonderful and I’m glad she has them.”

He cheeks warm under your palm. He pulls you close and kisses you. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A high pitched, piercing cry rings out, startling you both before you’re groaning. “She gets that voice from you, though,” he says.

“She does not!” You complain. He gives you a pointed look at your near screech of protest. “Fine, maybe a little.”

He chuckles, stopping you from slipping out of bed. “I’ll get her, don’t worry. Get some sleep.” You sigh in thanks.He presses a kiss to your forehead before he’s slipping out the door. The piercing crying suddenly quiets down once his coos interrupt the noise and soon, the house is silent with no sound other than a baby’s whimpers and your husband’s soft words.

In that moment you’re grateful for all the choices you’ve been able to make.

479 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 5 months

Text

Nightwatch (Mark)

♡ genre: ginger tea - sageuk/historical; a little bit of everything--romantic fluff, soft smut, light angst

✎ words: 7.5k

✓ summary/notes: Mark Lee, loyal guard to the crown prince, unexpectedly meets court nurse!reader in a palace where everyone has dreams a little bigger than their roles seem to allow. Featuring small appearances by other NCT members: prince Jaemin, illustrator Renjun, royal physician Doyoung, and more. Inspired in part by Neo Zone’s “Kick It” concept.... (a few extended thoughts here) Enjoy!!

P.S. I realize that the name “Mark” is out of place for a historical Korean setting… Please imagine that there’s some sort of inside joke or creative story where Lee Minhyung’s nickname became Mark :P @nctsworld tagging you, cee! thank you for the endless fun chatter and fangirling every day, and for the real encouragement too, through the years.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　One: Medicine at Midnight　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

When you sneak into the herbal pantry room at half past midnight, the last thing you expect is someone else already there, rummaging through the musty drawers. A lone candle casts strange shadows dancing between the herb sachets hanging from the ceiling.

Holding your breath, you map out the fastest path back to where you slept. You had waited until your fellow court nurses were sound asleep, tiptoed past Doyoung’s quarters and his light snoring, and followed slivers of moonlight on the familiar floorboards.

You turn to make your escape, but it’s too late. The person in the room spins around and blows out the candle lighting the room. He pins you against the wall and sends the surrounding room into dizzying darkness.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is low and commanding, and his body is held like a string strung taut, ready to meet its target. As your eyes adjust to the dimness, you find that he’s wearing all black. Gold threads swirl into the figure of a dragon, glimmering softly across his chest. He must be a royal guard. You’d never spoken to one before. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” He repeats himself and tightens his hold around your wrist.

You whisper your name, keeping your head bowed. “I- I work here, sir. Nurse under royal physician Kim Doyoung.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. Lee Mark. Eastern Palace.” You look up to meet shining eyes and a face softer than the voice it held. For a moment, you’re mesmerized. In his eyes, stars twinkle with a youthful wonder that you didn’t expect to discover there. You realize your position and cast your gaze downwards again.

Mark takes in your lashes, the quiver in your lip, the loose white cotton wrapped around your shoulders. He draws a quick breath. You must be the one. The court nurse Prince Jaemin keeps talking about. The one who brews seemingly magical healing drafts and whose laugh is like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. Noticing your proximity and your lack of proper attire, he backs away and the warmth of his hands leaves you.

You’re grateful the palace guard doesn’t question further about why you are here for medicine in the middle of the night. But to direct attention elsewhere… “And may I ask what brings you at this hour, naeuri?”

He smiles sheepishly before pushing back his right sleeve, revealing several cuts and a scabbing elbow. “It hurts just a bit.” His voice is sweeter now, almost innocent. “Doyoung said I could let myself in and put something on to help with this. As long as I tell him what exactly I took. I didn’t know we’d finish training so late after hours.”

It looks like it hurts more than a bit. You wonder if they are battle scars, but you save the questions. You find a small bowl of water, the correct ingredients for a salve, and fresh linen to clean and dress the wounds. Mark expects to wince when you press down on his arm but instead, a feeling of cool spreads through his elbow.

Maybe it’s the quiet of the night and tight space that makes Mark feel like he can let down his guard and trust you with anything. “Actually, I got like this tripping on my own feet this morning. Nothing heroic. But don’t tell anyone. I’ll never hear the end of it if Donghyuck finds out.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” You laugh softly, and it does seem like a breeze on a warm day, Mark can’t help but think to himself. It reminds him of the lightness of his younger years, before palace life, duties, and always being on watch.

You almost share your secret too, with the way he smiles and asks about the cooling ointment, intrigued by how you made it. But after he leaves, you creep back to the medicine drawers. You take a fistful of what you were looking for and hide it in a pocket you’d sewn inside your skirts.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Two: Night Watch Walks　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You try to drop a silver coin into Renjun’s palm, but he pushes your hand away.

“Please, no need! I promise I’ll get it to your mother.”

“It’s the home closest to the lake. My father’s usually fishing before dawn, but by midday he’ll stop by with lunch.” You keep rambling, and Renjun tsks impatiently but good-naturedly.

“I know how important this is to you.”

It’s not the first time Renjun is doing a delivery for you. He has also transcribed, illustrated, and read letters for you. He did this all under the guise of selling parchment pouches and bags needed for drying herbs, of course. He slips away with the setting sun.

Most of the nurses had wrapped up for the evening and withdrawn to their quarters early, glad for the extra rest. But your mind is a storm cloud. You’d seen firsthand how the queen barely recovered in time from her ailments last spring. You hope your father described your mother’s condition with accuracy and that the combination of herbs is correct. It was always dark when you picked them out of Doyoung’s drawers, relying on your muscle memory for where everything was stored. One ingredient is very rare and expensive, and you pray Renjun doesn’t get delayed, or worse, found out.

“Are you following me?” A voice shakes you, and you’re surprised to see Mark a few steps away across the courtyard. You had wandered with no destination and found yourself with the guard you met last week.

“No… Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He nods in response. His eyes scan the surroundings and he keeps walking, but you feel him slow his gait for you.

“Well, I’m on night watch duty.”

“Then I’m on night watch duty too,” you reply.

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes, making sure you don’t trip over your own feet again.”

Mark stops and laughs. “It was a one time thing!”

“How’s the elbow?”

It has healed up nicely and the rest of your path around the Eastern Palace is spent getting to know Mark. You stay one step behind him, landing your foot where his shadow would’ve been in the day. There’s something comfortable about being together, and you almost forget about your worries. Mark’s voice is like gentle rain, a pitter-patter, interspersed with an occasional giggle, and you could listen to it forever.

Mark doesn’t trip once following the familiar route around the palace grounds. But he notices the beating of his heart, faster than usual for the pace he was walking.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You find yourself walking with Mark the next night, and the one after the next. It’s like your feet are naturally pointed towards him. You learn that Mark enjoys writing and poetry. He sometimes gets lost in his thoughts. His nose gets scrunched up in an endearing way when he’s too focused on something. He is skilled with his hands, especially with shooting arrows, but a bit clumsy with everything else. You are impressed that Mark is part of multiple units in the palace, and you admire how upright and hardworking he is. He makes you want to strive to be a better person yourself. You understand why he was selected as one of the crown prince’s closest guards.

“If you enjoy language and writing, maybe you can become an author and publish some poems?”

Mark shakes his head. “I have one job for life. Protect the prince, the palace, the city.”

“But what if you could?”

Mark wants to tell you he has started writing more in the past few weeks. Late at night, when he can’t stop thinking about you. Instead, what he says is, “But you know I can’t.”

“Alright then…” You would come back to this but you change the subject for now. “I was wondering, is Prince Na as handsome as the court ladies say he is?” Mark’s eyes become comically round at your question.

“I hope you were about to say he’s even more handsome than they say he is?”

It’s dark out, but the sweeping royal blue of the crown prince’s clothing is hard to miss. You freeze and hold a deep bow, but Jaemin waves it away, as if dismissing the formalities. His smile is swoonworthy, if you’ve ever seen one that fits that description. The corners of his eyes crinkle in mischief.

“I need a word with you,” the prince nods towards Mark, and you bow three more times, backing away.

Mark waits until you are out of earshot, the anxieties surfacing unbidden. Did Jaemin have his eyes set on you? Mark pictures you with lavish gifts that only a crown prince could afford. Or better yet, the prince could grant you status and freedom, he could support a large, happy, growing family—

“What is she like?” Jaemin’s question breaks his thoughts. And then all the things that Mark loves about you come rushing to his mind.

“Yes, well, she is very bright. And genuine. Kind of daring. Creative. So funny sometimes, even when she doesn’t mean to be. Carefree, beautiful… very beautiful.” Mark gushes almost reverently before realizing he may have misspoke. Prince Jaemin liked to keep it casual, but Mark wanted to show his due respect. “Um, she is a loyal servant to the kingdom,” he tacks on lamely at the end, trying to sound more professional.

“Be happy.” Jaemin’s words are loaded with meaning, and he grins at Mark’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s a royal command.”

Mark isn’t sure, but he thinks his long-time friend sounds resigned beneath it all. Despite Jaemin’s smile, he could tell that it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You see, Na Jaemin had many things: a seal that dictated the law of the land, fine teas from the east, sweet tangerines from Jeju island, the smoothest of silk robes, and more. But the privilege to love? Not something he could place a stamp on, taste, or touch.

He wants to ask you, the miracle court nurse, is there not a draught that makes the heart a little lighter? A concoction to soothe the soul? But for now, it satisfies him to make the romance of those around him blossom. He smiles at Mark’s giddy expression, the image of one of the sharpest palace guards now bashful, shy, and in love.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Three: Holiday　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

You’re shaking while staring at the letter in your hands. You can’t read your father’s script, but Renjun assures you the message says your mother is now feeling much better. They followed your exact directions and her fever broke the next day. Renjun smiles as you tuck the paper away. He had always loved painting. As a child, he found scraps of parchment and spent hours recreating the world with strokes of ink. But his family’s paper-making business needed his support, and he put his passion aside as a hobby. Being able to illustrate your instructions and messages feels like a dream come true he never knew he could achieve. He has a chance to paint the fine lines of sesame leaves, the mixed white and yellow blossoms of crown daisies, and the rough texture of milkwort root. You thank Renjun profusely, telling him he’s a lifesaver with his artwork, and you exchange the next secret package and note. A neighbor’s baby has been colicky and you recommend a tummy-friendly catmint and fennel tea.

You know it is wrong to take from the royal physician’s storage, but these things aren’t being used. You can’t help the elation bubbling up in your chest knowing that people were feeling better because of what you were trying.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” You look up at the familiar voice. You want to gush all about it. It’s not that you don’t want to share with him. But Mark is so good, so honest. He waits until you finish your duties to invite you on night time walks now. With him, it’s always responsibilities first. You make sure the fire’s out, the lid covering the stone pot completely, before following him towards the Eastern Palace pond.

“Well, it’s my holiday tomorrow! I’m visiting my home, the fishing village by Resonance Lake!” While not the exact reason, this is true, and it is cause for your joy. It’s one of your few days off for the year, granted in exchange for your service to the kingdom.

“Ah, I see.” You notice that wistfulness tinges his voice. “Taeil said that there’s supposed to be a full moon tomorrow night. I was hoping to see it with you. But of course, you can see it from where you’ll be too!”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the comment. You want to tell him that seeing the full moon together sounds lovely, and you’ll be sure to return to the palace before the Western Gate closes for the night. But he’s being called away by another guard, ending your walk abruptly. He gives you a small nod and then you watch as Mark speeds away like an arrow, silent and unswerving.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Home is running into open arms, tearing up when your father tells you you’re his pride, and holding your mother’s weak hand. Her health has improved dramatically, but she still needs rest, so she sends you out to the market to enjoy the sunshine on her behalf. Your father kept one of his best catches from the morning instead of selling it, and you promise to fetch the freshest vegetables to complement it for dinner.

While the town market does not carry the fine ingredients for a king’s many side dishes, it does have the goods that local commoners scrounge up to barter and trade. Seasonal wild greens, mushrooms and roots of all kinds, fresh and dried. Just thinking of the colors and scents has your mind drawing connections. Bean sprouts for soup, maybe some bellflower root to boost immunity...

Someone steps in front of you, and you almost knock into their chest. Instead of his black guard’s outfit, it’s a jewel-toned hanbok he’s dressed in and a commoner’s hat shielding his shining eyes from the sun. With high cheekbones ready to rise with his laughter, he looks so dashing you think you may be daydreaming.

“Mark!” He breaks into the hugest grin. “How are you here... Are you following me?”

“Nope. Just taking a walk because I couldn’t sleep.” He gives you the most dramatic wink, and you laugh because it’s midday and you’ve never seen him like this. “Actually, I took a holiday today too.” Prince Jaemin was more than happy to authorize it, as long as Mark helped him sneak out for a day of fun too. (He took off with another guard, Lee Jeno.)

Mark lets you pull him along through the merchant stalls and he claps along to the beat of traveling pansori performers, happy to shed his usual role and responsibilities. He becomes just a young man with the lovely one he wants to pursue.

The youthful wonder in his eyes is back, and when he sees the way your eyes light up too, his heart wants nothing more than to be the reason. He plays point-and-learn encyclopedia with you and all that you see.

“What are those funny things?”

“Ginger, silly. But I like to get them from another lady. And these are eggs, you know. The thing you have for breakfast sometimes.”

“I know what eggs look like! I can cook them!”

“Debatable.”

He pouts and points at some whole grains. “What about those?”

“These are good for your digestion.” You place a hand on your stomach as if to demonstrate. He points to the next row, curious about the bottles of dark liquid kept in the shade. “Ah, eel extract. That’s good for…” You gesture a bit lower and he gawks.

“What?!”

“At least that's what I heard. Want to try?” He shakes his head quickly and you think you hear him mutter, “Don’t need that…”

The ginger seller is chatting with another customer about unrest in the east, and Mark tilts his head in interest. His visit to town in regular garb is not without a mission after all. He gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. His eyes have dimmed to something more serious, but with the softness of an apology. “Hey, can I find you after dinner?”

You nod, understanding his signals. “Okay, the lake. By the last house, around the corner of the village.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark is true to his word. You’ve only made yourself comfortable in the grass looking out to the lake for a few minutes when he joins you, plopping himself down.

You can tell he doesn’t want to talk about his work, so you don’t pry. Instead, you let him ask all the questions. You share memories of swimming in the lake when you were young, the first time you gathered berries from the forest outside of the palace and almost got lost, how you wish to sneak out to see the cosmos flowers next autumn. You conclude that it seems like your penchant for trying new things always gets you into trouble. Mark reassures you that they do make for marvelous stories though.

“Remember when we talked about how I’d be a writer if I had the chance to do anything? How about you?”

“Me?” You pause, eyes following the ringed patterns left by dragonflies touching the still water. “I’d become the best physician. Even better than Kim Doyoung.” It’s exhilarating to say it out loud.

“You want to take his place as head royal physician?”

“Oh. No, not in the palace.”

“Then where?”

“I don’t know.” You’d never allowed yourself to dream what you wanted any further. You turn back to gaze in the direction of the town, thoughts drifting towards the bustle of the market earlier in the day.

“I think you’d be amazing.” Mark’s voice brings you back.

“I’m not amazing now?”

“That you are too.” He transforms your joke into sincerity, just like that. It’s his turn to pause this time, and you move to face him. His breath warms your cheek with how close you are, and his eyes are brimming with something that you can’t name. “I… I’ve come to care for you,” he confesses. He takes your hand in his.

It’s love. It’s adoration. It’s a little fear for what may come. It’s hope. It’s desire.

You lace your fingers together and Mark feels that his heart may burst. “I care for you too, Mark.”

The full moon rises, but both of you are too busy to notice tonight.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Four: The Space Above the Library　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

“Where are we going?” Mark’s tugging you off course from the path you usually walk.

“A secret!”

“What about your duties?”

“It’s Yeongho’s turn for the night watch. He’s the One Two Seven squad captain, and he says we need to rethink the security. Something about northeastern borders. This way.”

One moment you’re outside, at the back of the palace library, and the next Mark has leapt on top of the roof. He reaches down and lifts you with surprising ease. You hang on, letting out a squeak and hooking your arms around his neck as he holds you snug against his chest. He carries you further upwards and you close your eyes tight, trusting him. After a few more minutes of lurching and movement, you feel Mark settle down. Could you be on the rooftop? He places you in his lap, your back against his chest.

“Whoa, where’d you learn to scale buildings like that--?” The question dies on your lips as you open your eyes to look out to the view spanning before you. Mark tightens his arms around you.

From this vantage point above the library, your eyes follow the path of a crane as it takes flight from the palace pond. It glides upwards towards the western gate where the sun has already set with colors between lavender and forget-me-nots and into the forests. And further, the expanse of N City beyond the palace gates unfolds, lights glittering like fireflies. A river courses into a lake, the lake by your home that looks like a tear-shaped puddle from this distance. The stars are rising and Mark kisses your hair. The moment is perfect.

“Oh, I got something for you,” you tell him, trying to sound laid back. An excited anticipation bubbles up in your voice anyway. You turn in Mark’s hold so you’re facing him and straddling his lap, and you try not to notice how he has trouble shifting into a comfortable position. From Mark’s perspective, you’re very close and warm. He makes a poor attempt at composing himself and keeps one arm around your back, his free hand taking the little package you fish out of your pockets.

Renjun had said he could loan you one of his old ones from home, but you insisted he find you a new one and a nice one at that. It cost more of your allowance than it should, but Mark’s curious expression is worth more than every bright coin you owned.

He slowly unrolls the ink brush from its cloth wraps, jaw dropping in silence, admiring the smooth wooden handle and soft bristles. “For all the stories you will tell,” you breathe softly.

Mark’s mind is often filled with so many words, but right now he is rendered speechless. He carefully places the gift into a pocket of his own and draws you in to thank you with his lips.

The kiss starts sweet and strong like steaming honey citron tea, deepening when Mark tilts his head and brings his hands up to hold your face. When he tastes you with his tongue, it’s like the world around you fades to night and he is the only light you see. Mark shivers as you card your fingers through his hair. You lean in so you’re as close as possible, feeling aware of every part of you that’s touching, the heat blooming between you, his unmistakable excitement now pressing into you, and your hearts beating rapidly.

You tug on his collar, wanting to trail your kisses down the column of his neck and further, but Mark untangles himself from you and holds you at a distance. He swallows thickly. “I am a man of honor. Let me wed you first.”

“Mark, bed me…” You barely believe the words coming out of your own mouth, but you know you want him desperately. “Please.”

At your plea, his eyes grow wide, and then they narrow, swirling with desire. He makes a noise between a chuckle and a groan and moves to get to his feet. For a moment, a pang of rejection creeps into your chest, but Mark reaches for your hand to help you up too. He can’t believe how easy it is for him to give in to you, but he knows he wants you too, with his whole heart. “Come on then!” His smile is boyish and free, and you are quick to follow, treading carefully along the eaves and through a well-disguised door at the side of the roof. With you, Mark feels all the straight lines he has built up loosening into the loops and curls of ribbons. For you, he dares to step out for a new adventure.

Mark’s space above the library is plain. You spot a few scrolls and stacks of books, and you wonder whether his thoughts and writing fill the pages. You wonder what kinds of stories he has been reading lately. But those are questions for later. You fall first into the place where he sleeps and pull again at the fabric of his collar, until he’s almost lying on top of you. Mark is careful with his weight, holding himself up on his palms by your face, and he pauses to ask, “Do you trust me?”

“Completely.”

You try to pull Mark’s top off, but the sleeves get caught on his elbows, and you both giggle, momentarily breaking the heady rush you were in. Once he has peeled off the rest of his guard’s uniform, you stare unabashedly at how lean and toned he is beneath his clothing. With you, Mark realizes he doesn’t feel shy or embarrassed. He feels free to be goofy, to make mistakes, to be himself. He appreciates how you eagerly touch him. You trace a star-shaped scar on his chest and kiss the tiny moles on the side of his neck and near the corner of his lips.

There are too many knots and ribbons tied in a hanbok, Mark grumbles aloud. You shake with laughter because really, it’s more complicated to put on and pretty easy to remove. Slowly, he loosens the bow on your chest, admiring every part of you revealed, kissing your skin reverently, before pulling at the one around your waist and marveling more at the wonder of you.

It’s a bit drafty and cold when you’re unwrapped and bare under him, but Mark’s lips are soon emblazoned along your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. His fingers are hot as they dance across your skin, down your sides and dipping below, between your thighs and finding your desire for him evident. He reaches lower and trails a fingertip along your inner thigh. His touch is slow and light, drawing upwards toward your center. You realize he’s writing something on your skin when he whispers “love you” close to your ear, sealing the words into your heart. Mark’s finger trails upwards along your other thigh, tracing shapes and lines. And this time, he says “forever.”

Mark knows you’re eager and ready for more, so he lets you help guide his hand until he’s at the perfect spot. He begins to draw circles earnestly where you want him, watching you intently as you sigh in pleasure.

“Good?”

“Mm-hmm. Very.” You extend the “very” and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. Mark’s so good as a person, as a friend, as a lover, that you’re almost overwhelmed by it all. He spells out his love for you, over and again.

When you reach for him after some time, longing to please him too, Mark simply moves his hands to hold yours in his own. He presses his body down closer to slide his length against you without entering you, and the both of you moan at the friction and new sensations. Heat courses through you, warm in your belly, right down to your toes, and back to your core again as he moves against you. Back and forth he rocks, your fingers clasping his more tightly, stars spinning above you, until you’re coming, coming undone beneath him, chanting his name. Mark slows down until you’ve caught your breath. He untangles his hands from yours to reach up and smooth the hair from your forehead.

“Will you have me?” You lift your hips in response to his question, digging your fingertips into his back, pulling him close.

“I’m yours.”

You let out a gasp as Mark presses the head of his cock into you. He’s careful and tender, kissing your breath away before moving to push in all the way. With effort, you open your eyes to look up into his. You hold each other and behold each other, connected from beginning to end. He drags along your warmth, languid and loving, and dives back in again.

Mark could write verses, he could write volumes, he could write songs about you.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Five: Embroidery Needles　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Kim Doyoung immediately reports the missing contents of his storage shelves. Rose hips, cinnamon bark, and licorice root. Not to mention, the garlic, gingko, ginger, even ginseng! The contents that had vanished far outweighed what the palace guards who occasionally dropped in without notice could take. At first he thought it may be just that, but completing his personal annual inspection revealed otherwise. In retrospect, you should have known that Doyoung would be the type to measure and catalog all of his work. Perhaps you were getting too carried away in your fantasies, distracted by the romance of your dreams.

Doyoung doesn’t mean to be an exacting person; he is just an exact person. But he wasn’t always this way. The voices in his memories remind him why.

“Must’ve wasted them, feeding it to those beasts he keeps!”

“That little thief. Always thought he looked different from everyone else.”

“Glad he and his family were exiled.”

Hot tears well up just remembering it, and Doyoung bites the inside of his cheek to keep the anger down. His best friend in his younger years. Lee Taeyong. Taeyong who cared so much for life, for animals, large and small. Taeyong who once placed a tiny green frog in Doyoung’s palm. It scared Doyoung half to death, but Taeyong kept going on about how cute it was. When the queen’s herbal remedies had gone missing, there were no records kept at the time. The scheming political officials were quick to separate themselves from the situation, shifting blame on the innocent. Taeyong, their scapegoat, was branded as a thief and banished to hard labor. Doyoung vowed to catch the actual culprits next time. He would take careful notes and calculated steps if he needed to. He rose in the ranks as head physician over the years, hoping he could one day gain the power or connections to exonerate his friend.

Word travels to the crown prince about trouble with one of the court nurses stealing from the physician’s storeroom. Naturally, word gets to one the crown prince’s closest guards too.

Mark wants to understand, but he can’t afford to. His role is to guard the prince, and his team needs his complete focus and commitment, especially now. He had shown you his everything. His favorite spot to watch the sun set, his corner above the library, his innermost thoughts, his whole being. The hurt and betrayal felt bitter like poison. He thinks back to your chance encounter which he so treasured in his memories, now tainted with the thought that you might have been in the act of stealing that very night. His brows furrow and he doesn’t notice how tightly his jaw is clenched. He’s torn between following the rules which condemn you as a thief and siding with his personal knowledge of what you are like. He wants to talk with you, but he can’t seem to find you in all the usual spots. And now he hardly has the time to look for you with his new schedule. The palace guards have ramped up on meetings, and he’s exhausted from splitting time between all the units he’s in. Jungwoo’s sword nearly nicks his neck when Mark realizes how far his thoughts had wandered. The more he aches, the further he pushes into his training, exerting the pent up emotion in combat practice.

Prince Na, having lost his sister to spies from a neighboring kingdom in childhood, had no room for deceitfulness. It was merciful enough that Doyoung would be the one to deal with you directly.

“Sir, I… I’m sorry I tried making something new and overcooked it and threw it out. I’m willing to make up for it. I also got some of the ingredients mixed up. I’ll wash up all the bowls for the next month. I’ll gather the roots too! I promise, I--”

“I don’t need your excuses. I thought better of you.”

You hate to admit it, but his words stung. Doyoung had been like a mentor to you.

Doyoung knew you never mixed up the ingredients though. He knew you could probably identify them without even seeing them. And your new concoctions often became the best remedies, never failures. As much as he was angry, he was not one to be cruel. After probing further and finding no other double-dealing plots or secret orders you were following, he lets out a long sigh and tells you his next orders.

You should have been grateful that you weren’t sentenced to something more serious, but you would rather lose your bi-annual rice stipend than this. Or reorganize all the drawers to the picky head physician’s standards. Instead, you are relegated to beginning embroidery. Embroidery! Not allowed near the food or medicine, and in a completely opposite wing of the palace. Doyoung warns you that all the guards are informed and will be watching you.

Oh but there is one palace guard who must not want to see you. Since the news broke, you haven't seen him anywhere. No night time walks, definitely no night time views, only emptiness in your chest and no place to run.

Would Mark misunderstand that you were only skin deep with him? You know that isn’t it, but you also know you broke his trust. You are a thief, no matter the intentions, but you feel a tangled mix of shame, anger, frustration, and a sense of powerlessness that you cannot unravel. You think it might be better for him not to be associated with you after all. You wonder if he regrets meeting you.

You have to ignore the many new inquiries that Renjun tries to deliver to you, telling him it’s no longer safe to make the exchanges. Worry creases his brows when even his beautiful new drawing of the cosmos field you want to visit one day brings no change in emotion to your face.

You do your best to pore into your daily tasks, but it’s monotonous work, embroidery, with nothing more exciting than occasionally pricking yourself with a needle. You curse under your breath.

But what hurts most, perhaps, is the blank expression and emptiness in his eyes the one time you finally do catch sight of each other across a hallway. It’s brief, like two strangers passing. And as you haul bolts of silk upon your shoulder, you will yourself to think that it’s the burden of the weight and the sharp-pointed embroidery needles. Actually, you are quite certain what hurts most.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾　Six: Fire　☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

It’s that nightmare again. You’re falling from the library’s rooftop and into a bottomless lake. Mark’s sparkling eyes turn wounded, guarded, cold. What happens next is plunging into utter darkness and a numbing freeze taking over your limp body. But this time, the dream takes a turn. The waters around you swirl, sweltering hot, and start closing in. Instead of a deafening silence, voices are screaming. You try to decipher what they are saying, kicking to tread water and struggling to stay afloat.

“To the West Gate! To the West Gate!”

You jolt awake. The commotion of your dreams collide with reality. You piece together the hazy outline of Doyoung’s figure past the doorway amidst smoke and chaos. He’s shouting instructions, pushing people in one direction. The palace is under attack.

Crawling on your knees and holding a sleeve over your nose and mouth, you make it to the courtyard. White-gray ash and embers flicker through the air and you fight to breathe. You can’t see anything for a moment, but the wind picks up, carrying the thick smoke away. You turn to take in your surroundings and you stop in your tracks at what you find. In the exact opposite direction to the throngs of courtesans fleeing, an orange glow is consuming the Eastern Palace and the library right next to it, dark plumes of smoke billowing out.

The words of love, of history, tales of wonder, poetry and promises. Burning.

There’s nothing you can do but to cry out, “Mark!” Your lungs burn, and you struggle to stand to your feet and shove against the bodies of those trying to escape. “Mark!”

The singing of arrows across the air brings your focus sharply back to your feet on the ground and you find that you are being pushed along with the crowds, dragged towards the West Gate. And then you are running, into the forest, aimless, with tears streaming down your cheeks.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ Seven: Healing, Again ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

The bitter, earthy scent of herbal infusions fills the temporarily transformed gisaeng house where you are working. Several of the women are already well versed in medical care, and all are ready to help. The house sits in the center of N city, near the market, an area easy to access and luckily, untouched by fire and the following destruction.

Days feel like weeks and weeks feel like days with the new routine you suddenly find yourself in. Early morning rounds with cool compress cloths to treat the ones with burns, gathering the berries and calendula flowers before the sun got too hot, brewing teas in the afternoon, a hurried supper so you can continue your work before it got too dark.

The time is long, but the moon has grown from waning crescent to waxing gibbous again before you know it, with the many people that come and go after receiving the care they need. The citizens are healing, gaining strength to rebuild again.

It’s late one evening when you see from the corner of your eye, an unmistakable design on a visitor entering. Midnight black, silky fabric with the emblem of a dragon. The ladle in your hand clatters to the floor and you pull up your skirts to run to the entrance.

As you get closer, yes, it’s the gold embroidery, yes, it’s the palace uniform. But he’s taller in stature. He’s not the one you’re looking for. Your steps come to a slow stop. Jaehyun recognizes you immediately and is equally quick to spare you of the suspense.

“We haven’t seen him yet.”

When your knees give out, he holds onto you and lets your tears soak his clothing.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It is a bizarre sight to see the crown prince enter town, not supported on a fancy palanquin but on the arms of Doyoung and Jeno, all in commoners’ clothing. You’re on the side of the street when you spot them, and you freeze in place before remembering to bow deeply. Jeno motions you to straighten. There’s no need to reveal identities, he whispers into your ear. Nodding with understanding, you help them to the house and find the nearest available space for Prince Na.

Word had spread that a powerful shaman was practicing in the center of town, but Doyoung had an idea of who that might be. He shares this with you with the slightest of gummy smiles. It took them a tumultuous journey to hide and travel safely, and it would take too much time to tell the tale. The prince’s health needs more immediate help first. You’re grateful the lost prince is alive, if not well, but the questions snowball in your mind, a thousand desperate thoughts begging to be answered. How did they escape? Did he survive too? But Doyoung explains the prince’s condition, symptoms, and what they’ve tried so far, and you need to pay utmost attention. Jaemin must have inhaled a large amount of smoke. His breathing is weak. He’s unable to speak. You fetch a jar of honey water to help with calming his cough and think of a few things that may reduce the swelling that must be inside his chest.

You learn from Jeno that the One Two Seven Squad is regathering. Though he doesn’t share many details, you read between the lines that what had happened was an unsuccessful coup. You hull soybeans while you talk, using low voices to avoid bothering the patients in your care, the water sloshing and providing cover for the classified information. Prince Na is asleep now, but Jeno’s gaze is fixed on him as he speaks.

Though the city is safe for now, he and the others are still on high alert. They would keep Prince Na hidden until they strategize their next move. You remember that Jeno used to train with Mark when they were younger, so you finally gather your courage to ask whether he heard any news, heart thumping hard.

“Ah, Mark… We parted ways just a few days ago.” Jeno’s voice always holds the most even, balanced tone. You can’t decipher what that meant.

“Parted ways?”

“Yes, he said he had somewhere he needed to visit.” You breathe out the breath that you had been holding, relief washing over you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If he could put it simply, you are a vision. Mark made his way back to the city in sorrow and disappointment, to where he knew his colleagues would bring the prince, not knowing it would lead to you. He had thought he lost you, just as you had thought you’d lost him.

Your back is to him, but he could identify your shadow anywhere. You have one palm against your forehead and the other on a child’s, checking her temperature. They call it your healing touch, your intuition, your experience, or your willingness to try, but for Mark, he knows it’s all your heart. He regrets ever doubting your intentions. He thought he was serving the kingdom, but all along, you… you were truly serving its people.

Mark waits until you’ve finished your work for the night, not unlike many nights before, in a different setting that feels so long ago with the events that had transpired. He knows you’ve found your place at last. One without rigid roles and gates to keep you back. He only hopes that he can be by your side again.

After whispering instructions to the nurse taking the next shift, you wrap your arms around yourself and rub them up and down for some warmth. You’re about to start on a brisk night time walk outdoors to clear your thoughts when he leaps from the rooftop and into your line of sight.

You think you may be delirious. But you amble towards the figure of Mark anyways until you’re standing right in front of him. You open your mouth to say the first thing on your mind, a heartbroken “I’m so sorry” on the tip of your tongue, but Mark doesn’t let you finish your sentence. He throws an arm around you. And when you circle your arms around him tightly and lean into him too, he kisses you full on the lips. You relish in the feeling: passionate, bold, connected once more. You open up and let him in. Then gently, he draws back to kiss your eyelashes, wet with tears, only stopping to murmur, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m sorry I took so long to return to you.”

You move to press closer into his embrace but look down to find his left arm in the way, poorly wrapped and held against his chest. He is the definition of a hero and a protector, and you want nothing more than to be his healing balm from now on. “Oh, Mark… I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll make it better.”

“You will. I know you will.”

You have many questions and Mark answers as you walk together, the moon shining brightly above.

“Where’d you go these last few days?”

“To the lake. To your home. I didn’t know where to find you.” You look up at Mark in wonder, and he pulls you closer with the arm around your waist.

“The roads have been restored?”

“Partly.”

“How… how are they?”

“Your parents and the villagers are safe. They… we… I thought you were gone.” It’s your turn to give him a squeeze. “We can send them a letter first thing tomorrow morning to let them know you are well too.”

“How’d you get hurt?” You start to inspect him, touching his shoulder gingerly and feeling the muscle in his upper arm.

He turns sheepish and glances away. “I actually tripped and fell on my arm when saying bye to your parents. It was very embarrassing. Please don’t tell anyone!”

You stop in your tracks and shake your head in laughter, glad it wasn’t too serious after all. Then you are pulling on his shirt collar so he knows what you want. “At least it wasn’t your writing arm, I guess.”

He’s glad too. And he knows there will be many stories to write about, with you. Mark leans in to close the distance again. Because sometimes, often-times, kisses are even better than words.

˚·̩̩̥͙‧⁺˚*･༓☾ the end ☽༓･*˚⁺‧·̩̩̥͙˚

Thank you for reading! Hope your heart is full of love and wonder, and that you may dream a little past what you believe is possible.

Writing references: Joseon female physicians uinyeo | historical drama/sageuk vocab | korean herbs 1 & 2

272 notes · View notes

dr-qian · 6 months

Text

The Peace in Her Arms

Title: The Peace in Her Arms

Pairing: god!Jaehyun (koschei!Jaehyun) x priestess!reader

Genre: Dark romance, fantasy, slow burn, smut.

Word count: 30.1k

Summary: After winning the war against Death, Jaehyun, the Lord of Life, finds himself a lovely wife to enjoy peace, but is soon met with a violent rematch that forces him to send his wife away. Two years later, after carrying his victory with him on the way back home, he finds out that the mournings and havocs of conflict don’t even compare to the pain of his wife not taking him back.

Warnings: this fic contains detailed descriptions of sex (involving praise and breeding kinks), mentions of violence, as well as references to religions and divinities.

N/A: Hi there! This plot was solemnly based on Deathless, by Catherynne M. Valente (highly recommend the book if you like the plot!) and the entire Russian mythology towards Koschei, the Deathless. Basically, Jaehyun will suffer a lot for his wife and will be on full husband material.

The night was starry as though the moon had kissed the darkest of dusks to light up the ceremony. The breeze was fresh and gentle enough not to blow out the uncountable candles decorating the garden in front of the manor. White tents were set for the guests to comfortably sit. Women wore their most elegant dresses, and men had that respectful look on their faces, one that unconsciously mixed with relief now that another war was over. Roses impregnated the atmosphere with their red warmth, attracting the tiniest bees and other adorable bugs, all invited to witness the Lord of Life getting married.

Both you and Jaehyun had considered a small and intimate ceremony, but the guest list was not going to be cut shorter. You were too known for your own good: you for being a popular priestess, with healing hands and a brain graced with mythical knowledge; and your soon to be husband for creating life and everything it owned.

“You look stunning,” Vasilisa whispered under her honest breath, looking at your image in the mirror. The servant had been your faithful confidant all the time you stood in Koschei’s manor. “White really suits you, m’Lady.”

You looked over your shoulder, face covered by a lace hood.

“We’ve talked about the m’Lady thing before, Val. That is not necessary,” you hummed, meeting a wicked grin.

“You’re too humble for your own good, m’Lady.”

You took a deep, cool breath, turning your face to the tall mirror in front of you. Vasilisa was right. You felt stunning, the white dress smoothly hugging your silhouette, outlining the shape of your waist and breasts. Even your thighs could be guessed under the silky fabric. The hood was part of an entire cape that touched the floor, with the delicate work of seamstresses on its length.

“Come, it’s time,” Vasilisa offered you her dainty hand as the other passed you a small bouquet of white lilies.

With a quickened heartbeat, you followed her down the manor, to the garden. Everyone awaited you. On the other hand, you only had eyes for the tall figure waiting for you on the other side, under the mesmerizing night sky.

While you were cladded in vibrant white, Jaehyun wore pitch black, with red details on his suit. The Lord of Life had a romantic and dark figure, with hair as dark as the eye holes of one’s skull, winter skin and long lashes that caught your attention the first time you landed your eyes on him. He had the appearance of a young man even though he had seen more years than everyone in that garden combined — a detail everyone forgot the second he smiled, sharp teeth adding charm to his face. A lonely dimple popped out too, adorably.

The man who breathed life into every little being, who saw it all, who tasted it all — that man was bare to his soul in front of you, surrendered to love. Tears glistened in his eyes while you walked down the pathway to the altar. “I couldn’t begin to tell you how breathtaking you are,” Jaehyun mouthed, tangling your arms.

You wiped his tears away and kissed his cheek. “So are you, my love.”

The High Priestess cleared her throat before initiating her speech. Not only she knew the secrets of the heart, but how to seal Jaehyun’s soul to yours with the blessing of all divinities. Not that Jaehyun actually needed permission from others: Koschei the Deathless created every little being, including other gods. But he respected you and your religion, and it was both polite and symbolic to follow the script.

“Time to make your vows,” the High Priestess breathed.

“A marriage is a very private thing,” Jaehyun started, his large eyes soft and frank. “I don’t intend on making my vows comprehensive and reasonable to others, just you. You, my light in the dark. My beautiful priestess. A husband is not a husband if he can’t be his wife’s best friend and her most ardent lover. If he can’t be at her feet, begging for her love, as I am now. As I will always be. I will feed you when you’re hungry. I’ll make the world go silent when you’re tired. Build a hole in the world just for you when you wish to escape, and wait until you’re comfortable enough to come out. Because a husband is not to confine, a husband is to free. My love for you desires nothing but to let you dare. Let you be. I am as cruel and demanding as a god can be, but for you, and only you, I will be your faithful husband.”

And like that, you were lost forever.

“You met me at the battlefields.” You still remembered how you had been that day: dress stained with blood and mud, face sweaty from the rush, two strands of oily hair escaping your ponytail. The agony screams were background music as you made the soldiers swallow potions and worked on bandages that smelled like mauve, aloe and rue. “I had always thought love itself was a battlefield in which women had no freedom at all. To me, marriage had never been for lovers, but for the heartless and the selfish. Today, I take those words back. I couldn’t be happier to be your dear wife, your confidant, your partner. I give myself to you in love and anger, in peace and chaos, in light and dark. I am yours, Koschei. Yours truly. And for you I keep fighting. And for you I put my weapons down.”

The both of you slid the thin silver rings on each other’s finger, looking at each other with overflowing adoration. Jaehyun’s hand cupped your jawline, his thumb rubbed your cheek and he smiled when your lips touched.

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispered.“Eagerly.”

You smiled, grabbing his chin with assertiveness and placing a loud kiss to his dimple. “I love you,” you repeated. “Restlessly.”

As husband and wife, you followed to the reception. You saw many familiar faces amongst the crowd: Taeyong the Lord of Word; the oldest of the old witches, Baba Yaga; the poor and terrifying Bauk, and the otherworldly Lord of Beauty, Ten. Jaehyun’s second in command, John the Knight, was there too, making good use of his politeness to charm the village girls.

Bliss and wonder filled the atmosphere. The guests ate and drank, relishing in food so colorful and luscious one could eat it with their eyes and be satiated. Traditional music was played by a local girl band you knew from your tavern adventures, and a collective delight was felt.

Jaehyun slid his hand under the table, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your gazes locked right with such fulfillment it made you chuckle out of joy.

It was what everyone deserved after the war. After Koschei, the Lord of Life, defeated Yuta, the Lord of Death.

Except peace was a very dangerous thing to believe in.

The candles were the first signal, suddenly blown out, even if there was no wind. Only the moon and the stars lit the tents now. A cold shiver ran down your spine.

Jaehyun tightened his grip on your hand. He looked away from your face into the deep darkness ahead of the manor, where the oak trees shook with the piercingly cold breeze.

The night got darker. The guests went silent. The world took a deep breath. And then, the shadows of Death came out to play, laughing like sharp icicles falling from the sky. They moved so fast you lost track of their localization. When you blinked an eye, one of them was by your side, right after Vasilisa.

You remember looking down to your shoes, stained in lively red blood, blood that didn’t belong to you, but to Vasilisa’s slaughtered throat. The sound of her body meeting the floor would haunt you until the last of your days.

You looked over at Jaehyun. A cruel stillness shielded him like armory, and you knew your husband was once again a general. He was not Jaehyun. He was Koschei. The Lord of Life, never scared, unbroken. Deathless.

His eyes were cold when he met yours.

Before you could stop it, Koschei had made one single command to John. John, who put you on the horse and rode you back to the mortal realms. John, whose chest you hurt with your fists, commanding that he rode you back to your husband. In vain, of course.

The war had ended.

Confident, the sun shone twice as bright between the orange clouds, like water mixing with streams of blood. The birds sang graceful melodies, children ran freely on the cobblestone streets, flowers bloomed in silent laughter, and mothers welcomed their daughters and sons for a warm afternoon that smelled like cakes and coffee. Everything felt alive with pleasure.

You looked over the street through sunglasses slipping down your nose, carefully watching the euphoria as the newspaper boy screamed with full lungs that THE WAR IS OVER! PEACE IS FINALLY HERE! THE WAR IS OVER!

Everything about that day… Everything reminded you of him. Jaehyun.

Forcing yourself to distract your mind, you turned on your heels to keep walking. It was a perfect day to lock up inside the coziness of your home, where nothing would disturb your heart. No news about life, no news about death.

At the corner of your street, you overheard a little girl praying with her fists together, so concentrated in her genuine words that perhaps she didn’t notice how loud she sounded.

“Dear Koschei, I thank you, loving Father, for this day. Thank you for putting an end to this horrible war,” she repeated like a mantra. Behind her back, the ruins of a school stood still, silent and absolute.

“Hey, girl,” you called curtly.

She opened her eyes, caramel and expecting.

You held her gaze. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m thanking the Lord of Life, our darling Papa Koschei, for winning the war,” she readily replied. “I know the war was fought by humans, but at the Holy Land of the Lords, Koschei fought for us, and we won, so I am grateful to him.”

The Holy Land of the Lords. The immortal realm. The details of that place remained in your every fiber. Every oak tree, every rook, every crystal river making rocks roll softly under their flows.

A bitter chuckle left your lips. “Is that what you believe in?”

“I know it!” The girl passionately replied, her lower lip nearly pouty. “I know Papa Koschei takes good care of us and would never ever let us die! He is the strongest god out there!”

Now that the girl so fiercely defended her Lord, you understood why you’d stopped in front of her in the first place. You still wanted to hear about him; still thrived on seeing people indulge into having faith in him, because Koschei the Deathless brought them hope.

What killed you inside was that he had not been as generous to you.

Jaehyun had given you up in the name of war.

The little girl was right. He wouldn’t let her die.

Even if it cost him his marriage.

Once you stepped into the small apartment you now called home, removing your red scarf, it wasn’t particularly hard to notice the old lady sitting by the kitchen table, her nose buried in the newspaper.

“The war is over,” Baba Yaga hummed. Her face was wrinkled by years and magic, her spine curved into itself, making her look shorter than average people. Still, her presence was loud and tragic, like a strident mischievous laugh in the depths of the world. Her cat eyes as young as a newborn’s. “Jaehyun won. Now he will come for you, to finally be your husband.”

“Koschei stopped being my husband the moment he sent me here,” your reply was blunt and definitive.

Baba Yaga rolled her eyes. “Two years later, you’re still the same stubborn, spoiled bride. Don’t you understand he did that to keep you safe?”

“The war was his as much as it was mine,” you retorted, all your emotional scars bleeding and flooding the old rug on the kitchen floor. “I was his wife.”

“You are human,” the oldest of the old witches corrected you, her lips hard in a thin line. “Too precious for Jaehyun to risk. He had sent you here, to the mortal realm, to keep you safe with me. Or do you think I spent the last two years happy that my obligation was to look after someone as rebellious as you?”

Her gaze pierced you like a needle that knew precisely where to stitch.

“Plus, he did send you letters,” she remembered.

Up to some point, you agreed with Baba Yaga’s reasoning: once the Lord of Death made his bloody rematch known at your wedding, both the immortal and mortal realms went into war. A war between Life and Death had a direct impact on the mortal realm: diseases that spread fast, countries that devastated others in the name of progress, genocides motivated by greed and power.

That was the way of the world.

Koschei had sent you back into the mortal realm, where the civil war took place, because even if humans battled and killed each other, you would be safer there, with Baba Yaga, the most powerful of witches, right by your side, keeping death away from you.

His letters, though, were burned after you read them. Jaehyun promised a lot, but delivered nothing. No empty words were going to make you feel like a wife.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over the window. Now, the sky was a deep violet, like the first flower to blossom after winter.

“Did you ever understand me, granny?” you asked, even if Baba Yaga hated being called that. “You were there. You listened to our vows. He promised to let me be, that I was going to have as much freedom as a woman could, and I promised to fight for him, because it was the wish of my heart. The first thing he did when Yuta was back was to send me back here. Koschei didn’t give me the tiniest chance to help, to be by his side when he needed me the most. He acted exactly like the husbands I always despised. Koschei confined me.”

Baba Yaga looked over at you with those firm, impossible to intimidate eyes, much similar to rocks, dark amethysts that saw through your spirit. You felt both acceptance and opposition, refuge and danger, understanding and disdain. That woman held the world in the palm of her calloused hands. She forgave no one.

“Dead wives can’t do anything, child. I respect your hate, and your pride, but stupidity has never made me pity anyone. Love is way more complex than you wish to comprehend.”

You were about to open your mouth to defend yourself when a knock was heard on the door.

Your heart jumped in your chest, as if it desired to climb up your throat and run out into the world. You exchanged a gaze with the old witch, registering how a smirk was formed in her almost non-existing lips.

“As I said, Papa Koschei is coming for you.”

A tall silhouette stood behind the door, seen through the blurred glass decoration. A shadow you could recognize amongst millions; one whose body you knew like a patriot knew the map of her country, like a gypsy intimately knew the meaning of each tarot card.

You could even feel his scent: amburana notes filling your nostrils with the many memories you kept buried in the deepest coffin of your reminiscence. The same perfume you so welcomed inside your lungs that fateful night, before the shadows came.

Jaehyun.

He had come personally to see you.

Breath got stuck in your throat. Your stomach trembled. You were going to vomit. You were going to panic. You were going to die.

Gathering every fragile piece of fiber, you breathed deeply before staring into Baga Yaga’s stone eyes again.

“Tell him there is nothing he can possibly do to ever make me want to see him again,” you determined before cowardly walking to your room, your legs melting like butter in a frying pan.

Death came to everyone. It wasn’t a secret, nor a surprise. It was simply the way of the world. Every creature, once born, had no choice but to perish. Some did it very quickly, while others had a long life before being embraced by the numbing hug of death.

There was only one creature that couldn’t die: Koschei, the Deathless, who hid his Death.

It was said that it was hidden inside a needle, which was in an egg, which was in a duck, which was in a black hound, which was in an iron chest, which was buried under an oak tree, in the distant immortal realm, in the island of Buyan.

Only someone who possessed Koschei’s hound could have him in their power.

You knew the legend. Everyone did. Life and Death fought endlessly, and their continuous conflict inflicted rivalries in the mortal realms just the same. Life had never been peaceful. You remembered it well.

You always knew you would grow up to become a priestess. It was in your blood: you learned from your grandmother how to make potions and to summon spiritual guides; your mother, in addition, was more than proud to teach you how to heal people through the sharpest use of herbs. You studied their methods and absorbed their knowledge eagerly, burying your tiny nose in books and devouring every little thing you could learn about magic.

Plants needed to be activated with mantras, candles needed to be lightened with intention, incense burning to keep the energy level, and your spirit needed to be taken care of. Your altar must be kept clean and holy, fed with prayers and meditation, as the holy images of saints watched for you.

You worshiped many saints: the Holy Lady of Apparition, Yemojá mother of the seas, Ọ̀ṣun mother of the river, Ọ̀ṣọ́ọ̀sì the king of the forests, and the Holy Sara Kali. It was as though they all knew you, tending to your knees like parents to a child.

You felt so comfortable when connecting with your spirituality there was nothing else you could choose as an occupation than being a priestess with a temple inherited from your ancestors. A temple in which people would step into, searching for healing — a temple so cozy and nice people would walk out feeling their feet in the clouds, their hearts lighter with the feather weight of hope.

Yes, that was what you wished for!

Except war got in the way. It was not in the temple that people needed your help, but in the battlefields. Instead of aiding people with spiritual problems — such as insomnia, haunting, chronic headaches, loneliness and such —, you were needed to nurse those after a battle. Men and women who screamed and bled, burned and cried, and closed their eyes right in front of you, never to open them again.

When you volunteered for war, you thought you were doing something noble, but as the bombs fell from the sky and families were forever destroyed… When young men witnessed their friends and lovers covered in blood and death, you wish that type of nobleness was never necessary in the first place.

Perhaps, if the Lord of Life and the Lord of Death stopped fighting… If they only could live at peace, others could too.

Not that you expected to ever find out. Few were the people sent to the immortal realm that returned to tell the story. It wasn’t usual for a human to face a Lord or Lady and make their wishes in person.

But you had your chance.

“You’re recruiting nurses for the immortal realm?” Your eyes widened as you grabbed the flier, looking over at the young boy who just had handed it to you.

“Not nurses. Priestesses,” he corrected. “As one, you’ll assist Koschei’s army personally.”

“But aren’t his soldiers immortal?” you voiced your ignorance.

“No. Only Koschei can’t be killed. His soldiers can. That’s why we need priests and priestesses, not nurses. To stitch them up.”

It wasn’t hard to make your decision. Your grandmother had passed away years ago, and your mother disappeared in the North, raising suspicions that she was caught by wicked witch hunters. You had no one.

You had nothing but the hope to stop that pointless war.

You grabbed an old, crumbly leather suitcase, and put your clothes and personal items there. The boy had not specified how the trip to the immortal realm was going to take place, but you still met him at the park two days later, under an oak tree, as he had told you to do.

“His death is hidden inside a needle, which is in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a black hound, which is in an iron chest, which is buried under an oak tree…” you whispered to yourself, watching as the leaves danced the choreography of the wind.

The boy that recruited you showed up in a war truck and motioned for you to come inside. At the back, six people were already in, including a young man with a soft appearance, whose side you sat at.

The boy started driving, causing the truck to shake on the paving stones. “How can a boy drive?” You asked, not low enough to keep the question private.

“He’s not an ordinary boy,” the man by your side murmured politely. “That’s Jisung, the Lord of Choices.”

Your eyes widened. “A Lord? Have I just met a Lord?”

“You have,” the man chuckled, then offered his hand. “I’m Mark, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you shook his hand.

“First time being recruited?”

“Yes. What about you?”

“Third time.”

“But you’re so young!”

“Well, my mother served Koschei her entire life. She occasionally came to the mortal realm for some fun, that’s how she met my dad… And the rest is history.”

“So you know him?” you hummed. “Koschei?”

“I’ve seen him, yes. You’ll see him quite a lot on the battlefield, commanding the army.”

You wondered what Koschei’s army looked like. Poor souls that wandered the fields in shining armor, fighting against the lethal shadows of Death.

The truck continued to bounce: its sway had you drowning in your own thoughts. How would Koschei be? Was he an old wizard with a long white beard and protuberant bones, as the fairytales presumed? Or was he the handsome man that stole girls from villages to satisfy his needs? Was he capable of happiness, or after so many wars and losses, he was blind to anything else? Was he kind? Stern? Did he regret hiding his death? Was he lonely?

You didn’t know how much time had passed as you occupied yourself with your imagination, but you suddenly noticed the road was now smooth and the sky outside darker. In your heart, magic surrounded you.

You looked at Mark, searching for answers.

“It’s just like that. Magic,” he nodded, confirming that you were now in the immortal realm.

Mountains howled at the moonlight. Red birds cut the night. Witches rode the sky in their brooms. Flowers blossomed nonstop — roses, lilies, tulips, dahlias, buttercups, orchids, begonias —, filling the air with the richness of their perfume. Children were born. Women and men loved women and men. Dogs barked, cats purred, butterflies batted their colorful winds, rabbits hid from foxes. Sailors arrived wandering drunkenly at the harbor, and merchants came to inspect the ships. A circus had just arrived and planned their first night of intense presentations, with lion tamers, tightrope walkers and magicians. Food barracks were set to feed the city, as the steam of the cooking ascended to the vivid atmosphere. Everywhere you went, there was laughter and… And life.

“I thought I was coming for war…” you only managed to murmur.

“You are, don’t be mistaken. But this is the land of Koschei. Life has no boundaries, does it?”

The truck came to a stop and two of the people in the back jumped out. Then, the trip continued as you distanced from the city, diving into a road adorned by trees and silence.

“Koschei keeps the city safe. It is where citizens live,” Mark added.

“Does he live there too?”

“Oh, no. He lives in Buyan, the island.”

You let the answer sink in before making another question.

“Why did you volunteer again, Mark, if I may ask?”

He turned his face to the side, as though he didn’t want you to see the sparkle in his eye. “I’m coming for the woman I love.”

It nearly made you sigh, how honestly he said it. “That’s lovely. What’s her name?”

“Vasilisa. She is one of Koschei’s personal servants.”

You stood silent for a while. “Isn’t it hard, loving someone that lives in a different dimension? I mean, don’t you miss her?”

Mark grinned, looking down at the way his nervous hands played with each other. “We miss each other all the time, yes. But that’s love. And that’s life. We care about nothing else when we’re together, and respect each other when life gets rough.”

You had no idea how many hours it took for the truck to reach its final destination, but it felt like it would never end. The atmosphere got tight as though a hand wrapped around its throat, suffocating. Your sharp sensibility skills perceived the pain, the sadness, the fear that hung in the air like a portrait on a wall, impossible to ignore.

“We arrived,” the Lord of Choices announced.

You jumped out of the truck after Mark, taking an honest look around. The sky was gray and red, its colors mixed with the extension of the open field, smoke and dust contrasting with the artillery fire. Soldiers, men and women alike, slept and ate at a tent nearby, all wore in camouflage. You outlined the trenches and barriers ahead, as well as a line of covered bodies that had to be evacuated.

Your stomach stilled. You felt like a knot was being tightly tied in your guts.

It came to your knowledge that the Lord of Choices was speaking to you. “Come to the infirmary. Your work is immediately needed.”

You followed obediently, carrying your old suitcase. The infirmary was improvised in what seemed like a warehouse. Many hammocks were distributed in the length of the room, where priests and priestesses previously recruited transitioned from one to the other, as people grunted and cried, their sobs echoing through the walls.

Instinctively, you knew what to do. You had brought healing potions, as well as candles to evoke the power of your saints. Much to your luck, the infirmary was equipped with many herbs, more than you have seen your entire life. It made you feel confident that you were going to give your best and save as many souls as you could.

But as you first came to lock eyes with a man whose leg was cut off… When he held your hand so tight it could have been broken, begging for the Lord of Life to give him more time… When his aching eyes lost their shine, you sobbed, desperately wishing to go back to the mortal realm.

Jaehyun came for you every day, for an entire month, but you never opened the door for him. It was like playing a role in a theater: whenever he knocked on the door, your body shock circuited, your pride burned in deadly flames, and you locked yourself in your room, only daring to come out once he was long gone.

Every day, Jaehyun left small things on the kitchen table. Sometimes, it was a white lily. Other times, it was a peach, a firebird feather, a wild flower from the immortal realm.

You never touched his presents. You didn’t even allow yourself to stare at them for too long.

Sometimes, you could listen to his voice in the kitchen, as he freely spoke with Baba Yaga. Deep velvet dripping from his tongue, crowning the world with the grace of his tone.

You boiled with how violently your body desired to come out and join the conversation. Deep inside, all you wanted was to tell Baba Yaga to go for a walk and stay alone with Jaehyun in the humble apartment, so different from his manor, to face him properly, looking into those dark eyes, demanding that he begged for your forgiveness. But you were not only a coward, but thrived on the thought of revenge. Let him suffer. Why not? Whenever you thought about opening the door and letting him see you, talk to you, touch you, you remembered the woman that was sent to this world two years ago, still in her wedding dress, desperately crying, punching and kicking the door and the walls, screaming for Jaehyun to come take her back.

You remembered her sorrow, her despair, her loss, her desolation. And because you still carried that woman inside you, you decided to continue locked.

Unconsciously, you confined yourself.

Jaehyun was too respectful to force you to come out. He knew you well enough to tell any attempt to drag you to the kitchen would infuriate you. Plus, Baba Yaga had already updated him on your tantrums, the uncontrolled outbursts of extreme frustration and helplessness that took over you and made you seem like a little girl.

“So many women you could choose, and you decided you wanted the most stubborn one,” she grunted lowly.

Jaehyun almost smiled. “A rose without a thorn is the most boring thing. We both know that,” he concluded calmly. “I am aware that I caused her too much pain. I can imagine her suffering.”

“I’m afraid that’s a lie,” Baba Yaga retorted, catching Koschei’s confused gaze. “You’re a Lord, Jaehyun. Someone with power beyond reason, the visceral combination of everything that exists: the excess and the lack, creation and destruction, father and son. Nonetheless, you’re still a man. You had never been in a woman’s shoes. You might think you know women well enough, but that would be the first time you’re mistaken.”

She leaned over towards his face as they sat at the kitchen, having some tea. Her warm breath got to his face when she spoke. It smelled like the past.

“You have never witnessed such suffering. War and starvation, disaster and death, treachery and deceit. Only a fool would say you’re not an expert on those things. But suffering as a woman is an entire different thing. A suffering that makes you blind and numb. It takes your breath away, and plays with your silliness, and makes you feel inferior, forever imprinted with the mark of mediocrity and weakness. That suffering laughs at your face. I know you suffered too, my boy, but you were the one to make a choice. Your wife didn’t have that privilege. You turned her biggest fear into reality. To save her, I know. We all do. Still, she suffered. And to get her back, you’ll suffer twice as much.”

You had no rest. There was always way too much work to be done, so you hardly gave yourself the chance to fall asleep. Mark and you did a really good job together, though. He was taught a different kind of magic, but one that worked just as fine. You took shifts sometimes, covering each other when you needed a few minutes to eat and breathe.

It was Mark’s company that made those first days tolerable, as well as those you managed to save and heal. People in the immortal realm were built differently from humans, even if they, too, had a human appearance: their constitution was almost entirely soul, and the rest was body. When healing them, you dealt with their soul: by healing their essence, the small part that represented the matter recovered as well. Some of them, on the other hand… Some of them were too far into the darkness to have their souls saved.

“Sometimes I think this is a metaphor,” Mark admitted one day, with a painfully sleepy voice. “Only the death of the soul matters.”

“Go to sleep, Mark,” you instructed, putting a wet cloth on his forehead.

Oftenly, you and Mark listened to the noises in the battlefield, meaning a battle was taking place. The Death shadows stood away from the infirmary, but you could always tell when they were there: like sadness was closer, its lips whispering dangerous, hopeless words into your ear.

After one of those occasions, the Lord of Choices came back. “We suffered a severe attack. Many of the soldiers need your assistance, but can’t be moved. You ought to go to the battlefield.”

Your legs hurt all the way, but you resisted even when your lungs were filled with the aroma of death. Mark was right by your side — even if you had not known each other for long, he was already a dear friend to you, someone that gave you strength as you stepped into the open, deadly field, rushing to tend to those whose chest moved even the slightest bit, signaling that they were merely alive.

For the very first time, you didn’t feel the sobs climbing up your throat, because you simply had no time to surrender to the minimum sign of weakness.

War was a restless, wicked and cruel thing. Like an emptiness in the world, like a soul sucked out of one’s body never to return. Like someone that forgets how to laugh. Even time was uncertain, as the thickness of the dark sky almost didn’t shift when the sun rose. All that existed was the nonstop exercise to jump from soldier to soldier, stitching their wounds, removing body parts that were too damaged to be saved, and paying respects as you closed the eyes of the soulless.

Nine hours passed after you and Mark arrived when you two had the chance to climb up a timid hill to rest before going back to the infirmary. Mark offered himself to grab some water for you to drink on your way back. You stood back, watching the heavy sky.

Your mind was in a state foreign to you, one that played with the limits of tiredness and doubt. You often thought about going back to the mortal realm, swallowing guilty at the influence of your selfishness, but only a liar would say the battlefields and the work at the infirmary was never to be questioned. Still, as hard as it was, you held onto the expectations of your childhood with tooth and nail. “That’s a job for a priestess. A very good one,” you sighed, resting your back against the dirty grass.

As you stared into the tragic shades of the sky, your line of thinking wandered through the heavy clouds with possibilities of peace. As a child, you had witnessed a war that lasted five years, You remember how unfair you judged life to be back then. How it revolted you. As time went by, you seemed to get to the conclusion that the world was like that, and there was nothing you could possibly do to change it. Your role would be forever a healer’s. But now, as your exhaustion mixed with consciousness, you really wondered if the world had to be the way it was.

What if you could change it? What if you could make your voice heard, provoking the Lords and Ladies to change their minds? To actually embrace the idea of a different way of living, where men experienced less violence, where women were happy and not raped, where children had more smiles than sorrow?

Your right ear captured the sound of heavy boots standing close to you, and you got up completely startled, scared that a shadow was after you.

It was not a shadow. It was a man one head taller than you, whose composure immediately turned him in as someone of power. His brown eyes reflected brighter under the white thundering of the sky, and thick eyebrows gifted his face with the privilege of a deep expression. His hair was as dark as the clothing we wore: a velvet suit so rich in details he looked like a noble. A strand of hair fell like a comma onto his small and pale forehead. Even if he was human, he reminded you of a lonely hunting wolf.

“You scared me, sir,” you placed one hand to your chest. The tip of your fingers told you exactly how dirty you and your clothes were after those exhausting hours. Two oily strands of hair fell in front of your face, too rebellious to stay kept in your ponytail.

“I apologize,” the man leaned forward for a moment, respectfully. “I assume you’re one of the new priestesses?”

“Yes. I arrived last week.”

His eyes carefully examined you, his plump lips pressed to each other. There was something in those irises, a mystery hidden in the confines of time and space. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N. What is yours?”

“They call me Koschei, but I only tell my real name to those who are dear to me.”

You nearly choked on your own tongue, as your mouth was too dry to have saliva in it. “My Lord,” you grabbed the skirt of your dress to kneel, but he stopped you with a single move of his hand.

“That’s not necessary. If anyone should bend, it is me, as you might have given up many things to come here and save my army.”

His words surprised you as much as his face. Koschei was young in appearance, gentle voiced, and seemed like he was considerate. He was nothing like some books defined: a tall, thin, old man with a long beard and livid eyes, covered by a black cape, a creature so worn out by time and circumstance that he didn’t ever resemble the life he carried in his title.

“How many people have we lost today?” he then inquired.

“Around a hundred.”

You had the impression that the number physically hurt him, as Koschei hissed lowly. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” it was what he said, looking down at his hand. An open wound was closing, deathless. “But we had to let them get very close. It was the only way to get some advantage.”

“Do you think you’ll defeat the Lord of Death one more time?”

Koschei lifted his gaze to meet yours. “I don’t wish to defeat him. I only wish to end the war.”

Your eyebrows clenched. “By defeating Death, wouldn’t you end the war for all?” You fought not to call him lord again. “Wouldn’t it be better for people if you and Death stopped fighting?”

Your question nearly had him smiling at the corner of his lips.“Life without death would be unbearable. Things need to die, Y/N, so others can be born. I created Death before creating anything else. Even before Time. Yuta is my oldest brother. He is also my oldest enemy. Life and Death will never stop fighting.”

Yuta. The Lord of Death had a real name.

“Then, the mortal and immortal realms will always be fighting too,” you stated.

“Indeed. Think about a baby. It starts its way to death as soon as it is born.”

You breathed deeply, trying to make your next question as polite as you could. “Isn’t it unfair that people are destined to always be at conflict? Don’t you think it would be better for everyone if they could just have some peace?”

Koschei the Deathless scanned your eyes with admiration — so beautiful, alive and pure, he thought — and shook his head shortly.

“In loneliness, we act in the name of love. In war, we act in the name of survival. I love my brother dearly, so I can’t kill him. And he can’t kill me, because no one can,” he replied firmly. “Plus, I am not to blame alone. I created the mortal realm, and the human souls that thrive there. Your books only tell how the Lords influence human life, but never how you mortals influence us.” His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Humans start wars. They kill, deceive and make mischievous plans to conquer power and prestige, no matter how many have to perish for them to succeed.”

Koschei took one step closer. You merely registered the red lightning that cut the sky like the blade of a knife behind his back.

“But they also love and aid,” he continued. “They have passions, and a wild, fertile imagination. Art, music, food, traditions, religions, family, sex, redemption… Humans are so beautifully alive. As a loving father, I can only fight for them.”

“You’re the Lord that created everything. You could as well create a Lord or Lady of Peace,” you retorted, fighting not to stumble in front of his grandiosity. “Isn’t the pain enough reason to spare the ones you love?”

His eyes allured you like flames. “Pain and death are part of life too, priestess.”

The closer he got, the more you felt blood rushing in your veins, your heart so fast as though it had a race to win. Your body screamed that it was alive, that it wanted to seize eternity with possibilities, love, happiness and euphoria.

That was Koschei’s first effect on you.

“But you only know pain,” you boldly stated, determined to offer him a new point of view. “Even if you do witness the death of others, as I did here everyday since I arrived, you don’t know your own.”

The Lord of Life was so close by now that his shadow circled you like the wings of an angel.

“You do wish to change the world, don’t you?” he inquired.

“I am not opposed to contradictions, but I do believe a loving father would do anything to keep his children safe and happy,” you replied, holding the intensity of his gaze. “Happiness is as important to Life as Death.”

Koschei allowed your opinion to sink in. After a few seconds, that seemed to last longer, he offered you a gentle smile. “Join me for dinner, miss. I’ll be more than content to take a deeper dive into your thoughts.”

The failed visits Jaehyun paid to your apartment kept going for a few more days until Baba Yaga came to knock on your room’s door.

“Tell him I am not coming out,” you warned.

“It is not your husband who came this time,” she announced.

You lifted your chin from the bed.

“Who is it, then? One of his servants?”

Your heart ached at that. What had happened to Vasilisa remained a mystery to you. You could only guess she’d been buried with the rest of the wedding’s victims.

“Not one of his servants, definitely. Why don’t you come out and see?” It was Baba Yaga’s reply before her steps distanced from the door.

Driven by curiosity, you complied. It rained outside, the droplets making a calm melody at the ceiling, muffling the volume of your breath when you opened the door. One turn right at the end of the hall, and you were face to face with a thin man in red clothes, his heavy boots wet with rain, his eyes like blood.

The Lord of Death.

“What a nerve you have coming here after ruining my wedding,” you calmly observed. Even if you were in front of Koschei’s fatal enemy, the person who was guilty of slaughtering Vasilisa, you knew the rules of the world well enough to act otherwise. Yuta was dangerous, like a tiger to a rabbit. Killing was in his nature. Nothing you said and did was going to change that.

Yuta bent softly to you, causing the attentive Baba Yaga to snort.

“I wish I could apologize, m’Lady, but one can only be what faith reserved. I agree your wedding perhaps wasn’t the best choice, but I love a little family drama.”

“I almost didn’t notice,” you breathed, eyeing him carefully. “What do you want?”

“As you might have noticed, I lost the war. Your husband came out victorious, and some of our brothers and sisters gathered to put me on trial. I came to personally invite you to be one of the witnesses.”

“A witness against your war crimes?” you clenched an eyebrow.

“A witness against my crimes on your wedding,” Yuta specified. “Koschei sued me. Not for my war crimes — he knows I would never be punished for that. He sued me for ruining your ceremony, and what followed.”

Oh, you could so clearly see it. How mad Jaehyun had gotten, exactly? What was the size of his fury to be once again involved in war strategies, and not in a bed you kept warm, lustful, never ending?

A war he could forgive. But what happened at your wedding was a different story.

Your eyes nearly softened at the news, but you were quick to clear your throat and recompose yourself. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And I suppose you’ll be taking me back to the immortal realm?”

Yuta’s eyes sparkled, cunning. “I would love to, m’Lady, but Koschei would never allow that. The old witch can help you with that.”

You turned to Baba Yaga with the speed of sunlight, your eyes tight and your tone accusing. “You could have taken me back! All this time!”

“Not a fight worth buying against your husband,” she simply replied. “Koschei’s trust is too dear to me to lose it.”

You hated it. How much power Jaehyun had. How everyone adored him. How little girls prayed to him and thanked him for his kindness. How he had left your wedding ring at the table the previous day: the same wedding ring you threw at the river, one year ago, in a tantrum so strong you got a fever and Baba Yaga made you soup for a whole week.

If you really intended on never seeing Jaehyun again, you would have turned to Yuta and declined. But your heart was bleeding to have justice made, and your poor emotional state considered that Jaehyun deserved the revenge of seeing the version of you that hated him. He deserved to suffer too, didn’t he?

You turned your face to the Lord of Death.

“I’ll be there.”

“If you can take me to the immortal realm, then you’re a Lady,” you risked as Baba Yaga made you jump inside a small carriage, one that already felt inadequate compared to the first few cars that ran the city’s streets.

“Lady of Nunnery,” she replied ironically.

“Don’t be so mean, granny,” you cooed, arranging your light blue gown that you so carefully chose for the trial, one with long sleeves and a tight skirt. “Aren’t you happy that you might return to your own life and catch up on whatever else you wish to do, instead of watching me?”

“I’m too old and wise to allow myself to have hope,” Baba Yaga concluded. With a small, mostly inaudible hiss of her lips, she commanded the two black horses to ride, and with that the carriage began to move.

The trip to the immortal realm was as smooth as the first time. In the blink of an eye, the pavement the sun shone brighter, music filled the air, and the food barracks set an abundant diversity of colors and smells, so much your mouth watered. Everything tasted better in the immortal realm.

Now that you were back, you realized how badly you had missed it. It felt like being home after the longest of journeys. Like coming back to the arms of a mother. You were too drawn in your thoughts to speak for the rest of the trip as the carriage took you to the Palace of Justice. You had only been there once, to accompany Koschei in the judgment of a failed attempt of robbery in Buyan, when a very talented robber tried breaking in to search for his death.

It was a marvelous construction, as palaces are. Everything was clean and immaculate, the marble on the walls, the tall windows and the solemn ambience of silence and wisdom. You and Baba Yaga handed the carriage to a young girl and walked inside calmly. She limped on one foot, so you kept yourself close to her, even if the old witch wouldn’t ever ask for help.

“You know what to do, right?” she spoke.

“Be honest and merciless,” you mocked.

“Be clever, girl. You have cried for this day to come, to be reunited with Koschei, and have some peace. Enjoy it now that you have the chance.”

You took a closer look at the surroundings, at the spotless carpet, the vivid and dramatic paintings, the employees… The life you wish you could have right there. “I don’t think it is that simple, granny,” you replied, as you came to face a tall door that was opened for both of you.

The courtroom was wide as everything in the immortal realm. That land belonged to Koschei, meaning it was a full expression of everything life could be: the chairs gracefully decorated with silver flowers, the ceiling made of glass in a garden of multiple colors, the judge bench imponent and high, where the gorgeous Lady of Justice sat. She looked like an angel, tall and firm, her white gown contrasting with the holy blackness of her skin.

As you walked in, familiar faces turned to look at you. You caught how Ten the Lord of Beauty offered you a friendly smile, and how Taeyong the Lord of Word tilted his head in respect. John the Knight was there too, with the same apologetic look he gave you the last time you met, as you ordained he brought you back. They were at your wedding, as well as other Lords and Ladies that had already found their seats. The Lord of Death was there too, clad in his deep red clothes and cunning gaze. Jaehyun had not arrived yet.

You and Baba Yaga made your way to the first row of seats, in front of the Lady of Justice. It instantly came to your mind how it was said that the Lord of Beauty was entirely enamored with her, and with one look you knew it was true. Ten had always been smitten for beautiful things, and the Lady of Justice was easily one of the most dazzling creatures you had ever put your eyes on. As Justice itself, she was severe and rigid, but also welcoming, strong, and undeniable.

Each person that walked inside the courtroom had your heart throbbing in your chest. Unconsciously, you waited for Jaehyun to arrive, and your body knew it, making you wish to pick at your nails, bounce your feet to the floor and look at your back, searching for him. Your body never failed to betray you. Both you and Jaehyun knew it well. The moment you felt your heart racing, your veins blooming, your head spinning with the force of a tornado, you knew he had arrived.

His effects on you never failed.

Your head started a war with your heart, as you forced yourself not to look over your shoulder. You sensed your husband approaching you with every step, until his silhouette stood right in front of your eyes. Without further choices, you lifted your gaze to meet his.

How absolutely cruel life was to you, giving you such a handsome, perfect man, and making him so irresistible your heart weighed twice its weight in your chest, nearly pulling you to stay on your knees and kiss his hands, his thighs, beg for him to let you in, to invade you, to love and fuck you, to utterly and gutturally ravish you, to take you home and make you his wife again and again.

But you refrained. You refrained even though your eyes tried their hardest to delight him with your weakness.

“Y/N, my wife,” Jaehyun said, his voice almost like a plea, eyes frankly in love, wanting and admiring.

“I can hardly be called that, Koschei.”

“Jaehyun,” he interfered, eyes tightened, as though you calling him Koschei physically stung. “That’s how I told you to call me.”

“Please, take your seat. Trial is about to start,” you calmly enunciated.

His austere reaction was successful in hiding precisely how much pain you brought him with your coldness, but you both knew two things: you loved Jaehyun, and Jaehyun loved you.

You were expecting he would find a seat somewhere else, but much to your surprise, the Lord of Life locked a meaningful gaze with Baba Yaga.

“An old lady has got no peace in this fucking world,” she complained, getting up for Koschei to sit down by your side.

You quickly grabbed her wrist. “Don’t go, gran-”

“Shut up, child. I don’t take orders from you,” she hissed like a fox, slipping from your touch and stonily finding herself another seat at the third row.

Jaehyun, then, sat by your side. Those excruciatingly dear amburana notes filled your lungs, and you had to clench your thighs to keep still. Thankfully, the Lady of Justice spoke next, opening the session.

“You haven’t replied to my letters,” Jaehyun murmured.

“You haven’t kept your vows,” you returned just as lowly. “You confined me.”

“For your own fucking good. Did you wish to be killed?”

“I wished to be with you.”

“It was too dangerous here. I thankfully had time to rebuild the city before you arrived, to spare you the chaos.”

So the city, the place he always did his best to keep safe, was attacked.

“You didn’t have to do that all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t risk losing you, Y/N,” he looked over at you, discreetly at the corner of his eye. “You’re too loved by me.”

Everytime his mouth spoke of love, you shuddered.

“Yuta wouldn’t dare kill me,” you risked. Only a guess.

“You know nothing about Lords and Ladies,” Jaehyun nearly rubbed his face in frustration. “Yuta doesn’t have a trustworthy sense of morals, Y/N. If he had the chance to take your death with him, he would.”

“Wouldn’t you be capable of rescuing me?” Your question let him know that, time after time, as you had been away in the mortal realm, you had thought about the possibilities over and over. “To breathe life into me after I was gone?”

“For that, you’d have to be born again.”

“So be it.”

You immediately noticed how his hand, placed on his thigh, clenched into a fist.

“You think too little of my love for you,” Jaehyun growled. “If you were born again, you wouldn’t be as you are now. And as you are now is how I want you. Every day and every night. I can’t tolerate a world emptied of you, Y/N… I hav-”

“Koschei, the Lord of Life, will contribute as our first witness,” the Lady of Justice announced in a voice two volumes louder, breaking your conversation. Jaehyun smoothly got up, looking over at you dearly before he moved over to the front of the judge's bench.

“Can you tell us what happened that night?” the Lady of Justice asked.

“It was the night of my wedding. As you all know, I had never been married before, but fell in love with a priestess. She’s right there,” he pointed at you with pride in his eyes, and even a smile to his lips, making you want to shrink until you disappeared. He was so in love. Fuck, he still was so in love… “We had just won the war against Death, but Death then decided to strike back that same night, causing sixty of our guests to find a violent end on our dinner table. I had to send my wife to the mortal realm, for her own sake, and since that day we didn’t get to properly live as husband and wife. That’s why I sued Death. If he had had the decency of waiting, then perhaps my first wedding days would have been happier.”

You looked over at Yuta, and how his face was soft and calm, relaxed even, with a mocking grin to his lips, and you couldn’t help but feel the trial regarded the wrong subject. Yes, he should be addressed for what he did to your wedding. But shouldn’t he be addressed for way more crimes than that?

Without further thinking, you stood up. “Permission to speak, my Lady,” your voice politely asked.

The Lady of Justice complied with a nod.

“Permission granted, priestess. Please, come closer.”

You obeyed, readily standing by Jaehyun’s side. “I do believe the Lord of Death did us wrong by ruining our wedding, and as Koschei told you, I did suffer a lot, being sent to the mortal realm. I have belonged here since I first stepped into this realm, to aid during the war. Death’s revenge on my wedding will perhaps be something I will never entirely get over, but…” your eyes tightened a little, “but I believe we are addressing the wrong thing. My suffering was not individual. Many suffered from the effects of the war. Families were taken apart, destroyed, many kids never had the chance to grow up. My dear friend Vasilisa was murdered in front of my own eyes,” at that, you looked over at Yuta. “Life was assaulted and humiliated in several ways, and it would be selfish of me to stand here to defend myself against a single tragedy when so many lost their lives and hopes. Their souls.”

The entire room looked at you amusedly.

“So what you mean is that this trial should be against war itself?” the Lady of Justice asked to clarify.

“I’m not sure a trial is going to entirely solve the issue,” you replied calmly. “I suggest that, instead, we discuss peace.”

You caught the way Jaehyun looked at you. How enamored he was. How he could have put you on a pedestal.

“Peace?” Ten the Lord of Beauty tasted the word in his tongue.

“Peace is at a state of mind, at its best,” Taeyong the Lord of Words hummed. His pure and big eyes stared into the air as if he was reading the word over and over.

“It could be a state of reality too,” you added. “Peace and war are opposites: as death exists to balance life, peace should exist to balance war. There’s where Koschei comes in,” you presented your idea smoothly. It wasn’t the first time you discussed such matters with Jaehyun. When he first invited you over to dinner, you had mentioned the idea. “As Lord of Life he can create someone to manage peace as he did to each of you.”

You and Jaehyun eyed each other. You couldn’t tell if he was more proud or challenged: he had never agreed on creating peace in the first place, but if you could bargain with him, that was your request.

“I think it is fair,” Justice agreed. “But it is my job to make sure we reach the final goal of this trial. Koschei, do you wish to continue with it?”

Jaehyun slowly averted his eyes from you to her. “Let’s do as my wife says,” he decided. “But I have a condition for the trial on Death to be canceled.”

“We are all ears, Life,” Yuta cooed.

“Let me rescue Vasilisa from the realms of Death and make her be born again,” Jaehyun breathed. “And Mark too.”

You could say you and Koschei were getting closer. After the first dinner in the manor, where he carefully listened to your ideas — to your surprise, without ever mocking you or lowering your reasoning —, it was frequent that the Lord of Life searched for you. Once together, you never stopped talking about diverse subjects. Sometimes, you even had the impression he consciously wanted your point of view and advice, like he treasured your way of thinking, so rich in complexity and imagination.

“It’s like the first day of spring,” Koschei explained while you took a walk at the manor’s garden a few weeks after your first encounter. War continued, but the battlefields were calmer: Death had a lot of work to do with a new local disease that was taking many lives away in the mortal realm. Even Mark had a moment to travel to Buyan and meet Vasilisa. “Not spring itself, but the first day, when the weather is warmer and the flowers stretch, blossoming…”

“What?” you asked with interest.

“Talking to you.”

Your cheeks blushed, rosy and warm. “Oh, we humans just have smart ideas,” you humbled, unaware that you were reducing yourself because of your shyness. “The majority of us are very smart. We even have artists such as Frida Kahlo and Remedios Varo. Are you familiar with them?”

“I know everything my kids do, miss,” Koschei chuckled.

“So…” you bit your cheek,“did you know me before I arrived?”

“Not like that,” he admitted, his expression going slightly serious as he stopped to admire the white roses. Big and with rich, thick perfume. “I personally made the first men and women, and let them be, so I didn’t have the time to catch up on them individually, but I know what goes on. Humans are free to make their choices and populate the mortal realm, mate with whoever they want to. I’d say the Lady of Desire plays a huge role in that.”

“Never heard of her. What is she like?” you tilted your head, focusing on the big lilies that smelled like heaven. Life really flourished differently in Koschei’s land.

“Entirely convincing. Dangerous, even. Once in her presence, your head is easily messed up with,” his voice was like a song as you slipped down the garden, unable that, everywhere you went on the obsidian pathway, Koschei followed, attracted to your natural scent like a bee to a flower.

“She might be very alluring,” you commented. “I sometimes wonder if desire could be a law.”

“How so?”

“One could only have another if there was any desire,” you clarified. “It would certainly avoid women from getting raped.”

Koschei stopped in awe. “You can’t help but care about others, can you?”

“As you should,” your tone was light, but sincere. “Thinking the world is the way it is leaves no imagination for creation and improvement. I was kind of disappointed to know you’re a bit selfish.”

He swallowed. “Selfish?”

“Yes. You know, children pray for you. And still they mourn their families in war. The idea of an omnipresent, benevolent Lord isn’t exactly real.”

“That’s a version humans created of me. To have hope, perhaps. It is like saying that every woman was born to be a tender mother,” Koschei reasoned, and when he passed you by, his side brushed yours, leaving soft goosebumps under the fabric of your dress.

He smelled like the loveliest amburana tree.

“I am not immune to desire,” he continued, holding your gaze as though it was needed in such an exposure. “I can’t ignore the wishes of my heart, and by nature I am cruel, demanding, and utterly unforgiving. But I can also be gentle, loving, and nurturing. Just like life is, sometimes.”

If you said you were not attracted by the contradiction he held at the tip of his tongue, and at every fiber of his being, you would be shamelessly lying.

You stopped underneath a gazebo, near a black water fountain, where water was continuously spilled from the mouth of a hound. Symbolic. “Is it true that you had many lovers?” you felt bold in asking.

Koschei picked a deep red apple from the nearest tree, supporting his weight on the gazebo before replying. “I was a lover countless times,” he removed a knife from the pocket of his suit — the blade had delicate decorated eggs imprinted on it — and cut a slice out of the fruit. “And I have loved too, more than anyone.”

“Did you really steal girls from villages to make them yours?”

“That sounds like rape to me.”

“Did you?” you insisted.

“No,” Koschei handed you the apple slice. You easily accepted it. “I didn’t have to.”

With all his looks and conversation skills, you trusted he was speaking the truth. You bit down on the apple, enjoying the sugar on your tongue.

“By the way, the boys searched for me as well. And I loved them all,” Koschei added, and at that you chuckled, placing your hand on your lips. You still had food in your mouth.

Smoothly, Koschei grabbed your fist and put it down. “Don’t hide your smile,” he hummed with such chivalry and admiration you went silent, your pupils widening. “It is one of the most beautiful things in you.”

Sometimes, in the deepest secrets of the night, you wondered if Koschei the Deathless meant the way he looked at you. Could he really be interested in what you had to offer? Your ideas, your mind, your beauty? You liked yourself quite right, and saw yourself as pretty in your own way.

Lately, with the way Koschei gazed at you, so tenderly, so happy even, when you caught him looking, well… It felt like he was attracted to you.

Now he was just admitting that he found your smile to be beautiful.

Automatically, you looked away, unsure. Understanding, Koschei removed his hand and returned to cutting a slice for himself. “What about you, miss? Did you have many lovers?”

“A few,” you hummed, staring at the effortless moves of his hands. “I had a school sweetheart, but we didn’t last. After him, it was all fun.” You considered whether you shared extra information. “By the way, I have loved girls too.”

At your reveal, Koschei nearly cut his thumb.

As if to save you from further embarrassment, one of Koschei’s servants approached you, bending to him in respect before speaking. “My Lord, I’ve got news from the city.”

“Go ahead.”

“One of our priests was murdered by shadows. His girlfriend came all the way from the City to report the crime herself.”

That was how you lost Mark. That was how you met Vasilisa.

“Vasilisa and Mark will be born again,” Baba Yaga concluded after the trial was over, as you waited for the carriage. “Take them as apprentices. Teach them your magic.”

“For that to happen, I will have to stay in the immortal realm.”

“Wasn’t that your plan all along? Or do you wish to return?”

“Well, granny, we are waiting for the carriage to take us back.”

The old witch frowned. “I have never said that I was going to take you back! Papa Koschei’s orders were to bring you here. The carriage will take me back to my realm. You go back to Buyan, where you belong.”

You couldn’t say you were surprised, but the slightest stubborn hope of your heart wished you could punish Koschei for longer.

The boy came with the carriage and Baba Yaga was so eager to leave she nearly kicked him away.

“Cruel woman,” you teased.

“After spending so much time with you? Absolutely!” She jumped in, her hand on the door. “Be safe, child.”

And with that, Baba Yaga left. The last thing you registered was how the yellow and brown leaves danced with the cold wind as the night approached and her carriage disappeared into the blooming horizon.

“She is the Lady of Luck,” Koschei’s voice right behind your back startled you, making your shoulders jump. “I’m sorry, love. Didn’t intend on scaring you.”

“Don’t call me that,” you growled.

Noticing the goosebumps on your skin, Koschei immediately removed his coat and landed it on your shoulders. You felt instantly warmer. “What else is a poor husband to call his wife? No matter how hard I had it, my vows were made. You’re mine as much as I am yours.”

“You already know my opinion on the effectiveness of your vows.”

“Not even you kept them fully,” his tone wasn’t accusing, but it made you frown, offended. “You promised to let your weapons down for me.”

“I did!”

“Not freely.”

“You forced me, Koschei.”

“And you’re mad about it. I understand it,” he searched for your hand, and this time you couldn’t pull away. His slender fingers had always felt magical on yours: long digits compared to tiny ones. Jaehyun placed your hand on his chest, right where his deathless heart beat. “All I ask is for you to let me be who I wanted to, two years ago. Give me the chance to be your loving, faithful husband, and I’ll make it up to you. Every little punch on the wall, every scream of my name… I’ll make up to you, wife.”

You were still angry, fuming, and hurt. But as life’s contradictions itself, you were eager, desperate to love, and ready to make the Lord of Life fall to his knees in front of you, begging, crying, sobbing.

“Take me to Buyan.”

The loss of a close friend felt like a knife transpassing your heart. Not only you got deeply affected by the news, but surrendered to the strongest fever you ever had, so devastating Koschei insisted you were taken to Buyan, where he could keep a close eye on you.

You insisted Vasilisa joined you: the sweet girl was already like a little sister, so loyal she stood by your side all the time you were treated in the luxurious manor Koschei the Deathless resided in.

At least, you had someone to mourn with.

The doctors said the fever was closely related to the state of your soul: in the immortal realm, your soul commanded, and your body obeyed. You were so sad and broken at the loss of Mark, so young, lively and willing, that your body simply couldn’t take it.

Koschei constantly came to visit, sometimes staying by your bed when Vasilisa needed to rest or to tend to her own pain.

Three weeks after Mark’s passing, Life and Death came to an agreement and the war was over. You were already fully recovered, but still mourning, when the news came in like the sun at the beginning of a fresh morning. With it, you considered your options.

Going back to the mortal realm was your original plan. But did it make any sense? What awaited you on the other side? Your job as a priestess would certainly help people, but it wasn’t like you were going to be useless in the immortal realm. Souls there were way more sensitive, and perhaps the healing touch of your hand would bring them some comfort.

In the immortal realms, at least, you had Vasilisa.

And Koschei.

You couldn’t deny your heart had grown affectionate towards him. The Lord of Life was thrilling, alluring and simple, as a man should be. He listened carefully to your thoughts and took you seriously. He protected you. He shared the wonderfulness of his mind and creations, and you liked that, more and more, he took your opinions into consideration before making a move.

If love ever bloomed in you, then you wished it was for and with someone like him.

Obviously, your limited human brain went skeptical: Koschei, the Lord of Life, didn’t need you. With the end of the war, he would return to his own interests, and you were going to be dismissed, to carry on with your own matters too.

You grabbed your old, crumbly suitcase, and started putting your few belongings inside.

“Are you really making a decision before talking to him?” Vasilisa crossed her arms, her gaze piercing as she stood by the doorframe of your temporary room. You understood why Mark fell in love with her. She was one of a brave kind.

Koschei was going to know. But, you were sure, nothing would change. “I’ll talk to him at dinner.”

When night fell, you took your last chance to wander through the manor. It was twice as luxurious as the one described in school books, filled with colorful windows, flowers, paintings, plants, stairs, libraries, and secret rooms. Koschei lived there by himself, with a dozen servants that kept the place neat. You couldn’t help but imagine how lonely it must have been for him, living in such a huge place, without a family or a pet. Perhaps you could write him letters, to help him pass the time, now that peace was made.

You took your time admiring the paintings on the walls and facing the loving garden through the windows as the sky got darker with each second. Birds sang the softest melody; tree tops swayed with the warm wind coming from the South.

You were going to miss that place. But you have made your decision.

You wore a plain soft pink dress that squeezed your waist just right. You weren’t used to how expensive you looked in silk, but the options in the manor were just as elegant. Vasilisa insisted you wore a pair of garnet gem earrings, which made you feel the closest to a princess, but still you.

Usually, you and Koschei had dinner at his particular office, where the cozy atmosphere suited your conversations. And, as always, when you lifted your hand to knock on the door, just right before you did it, he opened it for you.

But this time, Koschei didn’t hide how marvelous you looked. “Holy shit,” he whispered under his breath, eyes traveling from your face to your cleavage to your waist.

You heard how hard your heartbeat was in your own ears.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Koschei nervously looked back into your eyes. “You look… You look so insanely beautiful I couldn’t hold back.”

Even if with burning cheeks, you managed to laugh it off. “That's very human of you, Koschei.”

There was a simple meal for you two, a stew so delicious it reminded you of your granny, and wine to swallow it down. You took a sip before gathering courage to introduce the subject you had to discuss.

“What are your plans now that war is over?”

“Keeping things alive,” he replied shortly. “Making sure the population is multiplied. I already contacted Desire.”

“It’s time you create the Lady of Consent.”

“I already have, miss.”

“Really?” You merely could hide your surprise.

“Really. One day you’ll meet her.”

You were expecting him to ask what you would do, but the question didn’t come, so spoke. “I was expecting to return to the mortal realm now that my work here is done.”

Koschei put the fork down and stared into your eyes as if you were speaking another language. Slowly, you could see his face was hiding its own expression. He didn’t want to seem offended. “Why do you say that? Aren’t you happy here?”

“On the c-contrary, I am!” you stuttered, realizing his question made you think harder about what you truly wanted. “But I guessed that, with the end of the war, the recruits were going to be sent back to their homes.”

Koschei leaned back on the chair. His eyes were still on yours, analyzing what seemed to be a secret enigma. “Have I failed in showing my affection for you so badly that you think of yourself as an ordinary recruit?”

Your jaw nearly dropped. “I mean, I am!” Your gaze faltered until you, finally, stared down at your lap, embarrassed.

Koschei nodded, carefully choosing his words.

“I don’t want you to go back.”

You looked back up. Such beautiful eyes he had.

“I want you to stay. Have been for a while now. I was going to ask you tonight.”

Your words escaped your mouth without a filter, and you sounded demanding, but also eager.“Then ask me.”

You almost gasped with how Koschei slowly stood up only to kneel in front of you, grabbing your anxious hands in his.

“Y/N, the time we spent together brought me much joy, and I believe I’ve made you happy too. It’d be a torture to watch you leave my realm, and twice a torture to watch you leave me,” he spoke every word out loud and honest. “I am not on my knees to beg only as Lord of Life. I am on my knees to beg as a man. Please, consider the possibility of staying.” Koschei brought your hand to his lips and planted a chaste kiss on your skin. The sincerity of his eyes reflected the flames on the fireplace. “Consider the possibility of being mine.”

He handed the power right into your hold, a decision for you to make.

You felt so wanted, so dear, so scandalously beautiful, and your heart for once relaxed, your blood warm on your veins, your lips itchy. “Koschei, I-“

“Call me Jaehyun. That’s my name.”

Your eyes sparkled.

Gently, your hand reached for his face, brushing his hair back before cupping his cheek. You didn’t say a word. All you did was lean over and press your lips to his.

The manor was very much like it had been committed to your memory, with the piercing difference that all the servants you once knew were dead.

The war, you started to notice, had been crueler than the previous. So many deaths, so many changes. Jaehyun himself had an older look on his face, even though a certain new joy was keeping it alight.

His eyes sparkled in content whenever he saw you at the manor, where you were expected since the day of your wedding. He had the servants prepare your favorite foods. Had gotten the most beautiful lilies to decorate your room — your, not his, not yours, as you insisted on sleeping alone. Even before your marriage, he had built you a temple at the manor, a broad and dark room with an altar for your saints, with all the materials you needed for your rituals and magic, and the temple was at your full disposal. You spent most of your time there, and quickly opened the temple to the public, so people could come in and be healed by your talented hands.

It brought you tremendous joy to help those souls, so much your days were filled with work. Which meant Jaehyun’s dinner invitations were politely refused. You kept a collected composure in front of him, even if it hurt as much as having a needle pushed inside your eyeball.

Deep inside, you were tremendously scared of your feelings. Both you and Jaehyun knew it.

The only further interaction you had was about how much progress he had with creating Peace. All the times you had asked, Jaehyun simply said he was going on it. Just like that, your conversations were over.

It was a rainy day outside when you started your day, making your prayers and opening the temple. Everything was made by your own hands, so no servants helped you around. Usually, a line was formed into the manor’s main hall, and you came to personally pick your patients and take them inside. That day, as thunder echoed in the sky, and violent rain hit the ceiling, you came to find out there was no one to attend.

“Oh, that’s sad,” you breathed, turning around to return to your refuge when you bumped into a very familiar chest.

The expression on Jaehyun’s face explained why the weather was so bad.

Eventually, when Koschei was not able to control his own emotions, the weather in Buyan could feel it. Sunny days meant a visceral happiness that made his face smiley; springy weather meant he was especially romantic, with his head on the clouds and his heart where his brain should be; and heavy rainy days meant he was frustrated and angry, sad and way too deep into his defense mechanism.

“Dear saints, you’re going to make it snow!” you brought your hand to your heart.

“You’re being mean to me. I am hurt,” Jaehyun admitted, his lower lip nearly jumping out in a pout. Cute.

“Not my problem,” you lifted your shoulders quickly, passing him by. Jaehyun started following you. “What are you doing?” you asked without turning around.

“I’m heading to my appointment.”

“I don’t think you are. I’m busy today.”

“Well, I am a soul too. I deserve healing,” Jaehyun retorted. “Even if my wife wishes to torture me forever in the name of revenge.”

His childish, spoiled tone almost made you laugh. You knew better than to make fun of him, though. Plus, you were not proud to make him suffer. You just preferred he got hurt than allowing yourself such pain again.

Sincerity was surely one of your biggest qualities. And a defect too, depending on the situation.

After a deep sigh, you agreed with a nod. “Fine.”

Jaehyun had not been in your temple since you started working there, simply because you really had been busy and because you didn’t give him the friendliest of looks whenever he came to check on you. So, when he first walked inside, his lovely jawline dropped a little.

Every priestess and priest had the freedom to decide what gods and saints they were going to worship. You had decorated your altar with their images and elements that somehow represented their power: two small and crossed wood hammers for Ṣàngó a beautifully crafted bronze mirror for Ọ̀ṣun, a dark seashell for Yemọja and cowries for Èsù, the Lord of Discipline, Communication and Order. Candles burned for them all the time, as you closely committed to lighting up new ones when the old have blown out. Incense burned too, filling the air with the scent of black surinam cherries. Fresh flowers brightened up the dark altar with vivid colors. The atmosphere was dense but friendly, full of mystery between the cold stone walls.

There was a simple table with two chairs on each of its sides, reserved for the appointments. You signaled for Jaehyun to sit on one chair, taking the other in front of him.

“I think I’ve got a severe spiritual problem,” he announced, so dramatic it amused you.

You hummed in reply, lighting up a cinnamon incense with a lighter, moving it around Jaehyun’s sides before placing it in a set of small stones you kept on the table. Next, you grabbed the set of your favorite and most loyal gypsy cards. “I’ll check what the oracle tells me.”

Your hands worked on spreading fourteen cards so smoothly it felt as though you spent your entire life doing that.

Jaehyun observed quietly, noticing how your hand seemed empty without your wedding ring. He still wore his, not even taking it off when he slept.

You turned the cards around slowly, analyzing the entire context they were telling you. For the sake of suspense, it took a while for you to speak. “I don’t see anything spiritual. You’re probably too powerful for ghosts or any type of enemy to try something on you. But you do have a heartache.”

“How can I solve it?” His voice came out impatient.

You puckered your lips in thought before replying. Everything related to Jaehyun’s heart involved his feelings for you, and there was no way to speak about it without taking the entire context in consideration. “I see you might be frustrated because you’re being denied. Perhaps you’re not used to disappointment, but,” you pointed at the book card, “it is the perfect opportunity to use your repertory and learn.”

Jaehyun crossed his arms. You pretended not to notice his biceps slightly bulking within his shirt. “I am trying, but the more you deny me, the more I find it difficult to deal with what we have become,” he confessed. “I understand you’re upset, and I respect your opinion. You know that, if I had any safer options, I would have kept you by my side. But I did what I thought best to keep you safe and be with you later. I won the war. For you.”

You believed it: Jaehyun fighting battle after battle, motivated by the idea of being back with you… It was highly probable, and that you could respect. For that, your heart melted.

“I know. I know you’re being sincere as much as I know your love for me is real. I hope you understand I still have true feelings for you just as I did back then,” you mustered all of your maturity to evoke those words, resisting the urge to close your eyes and hide from the bleeding truth. “But I need to get over how powerless you made me feel.”

“I thought there was no space in love for power,” Jaehyun frowned.

“But you still had power over me, didn’t you?” your tone was a lot calmer now. That was not a confrontation, but simply a statement of how things went. “My main issue is that I could not choose. You interfered directly into my free will, and I will not tolerate that in marriage. If I am your wife, then let me have the same choices you do.”

His eyes analyzed you closely. “That would make you tremendously powerful.”

“I don’t seek to be powerful, I seek to be equal. Until I don’t have such a guarantee, I will continue to fight against the position of being your helpless wife.”

Your gazes burned in orange flames, heated by how he just got what you meant. Jaehyun always did.

“What do the cards recommend I do?” he asked.

You placed your finger on the mountain card. “Your journey might be long and rough, but you have to push yourself towards your goal.”

“So I should continue to be unconditionally faithful to my wife. Let her aspire to all the things she desires. Learn how to deal with my frustration alone, as I make sure she can trust me,” he perfectly wrapped up.

“Those are my conditions,” you nodded.

One second later, Jaehyun extended his hand over to you. “Deal.”

Accepting his hand in yours came naturally, the feeling of his skin extremely familiar, the little shivers of your touch making you squeeze his hand a little tighter than needed.

“Can I ask for something in return?”

“You can.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“If we openly discuss how you’re making progress with my request on peace, I might.”

Jaehyun nearly chuckled. “Have dinner with me everyday.”

“Will you update me everyday?”

“I will.”

“Deal,” you smiled.

At the sight, Jaehyun brought one hand to his face, flustered as he rubbed his cheeks. “You still have the most beautiful smile,” he praised. “Fuck, how I missed it while you were gone…”

You were going to tease him when a ray of sunshine walked through the window right on your deck of cards. It wasn’t raining anymore.

Jaehyun’s hand eagerly slid from your breasts up to your neck as you lied down on his bed. Hungrily, his eyes fed from the gorgeous shape of your body, the innocent white lace bra you wore alluring him into his deepest fantasies.

“You have the most beautiful breasts,” he grunted. “So round and firm and beautiful…”

“You speak like it’s the first time you see them,” you teased, your cheeks and the tip of your nose red from arousal.

Ever since you decided to stay, Jaehyun loved on you passionately almost every day. He never allowed anything to go missing. By now, after intense weeks of love making, you had grown accustomed to his dedication, and how your body resembled a volcano every time he touched you.

“Not my fault you are so scandalously sublime,” Jaehyun bit his lip before pushing your bra aside, exposing your rosy nipples. He dove in, warm tongue drawing slow circles around each, eventually brushing and biting the hard peaks. When he lifted his face, the cold air left shivers on the wet evidence of where his mouth had been. He easily got rid of your bra, freeing your round, perky breasts, so deliciously voluptuous and busty his mouth salivated. “Have I told you how I made women?”

“Not yet.” You rested your head on the pillow, admiring his bare chest. The defined muscles on his shoulders, arms, and abdomen turned his bareness so attractive to you your toes curled whenever he was naked.

“I created a woman before I created a man,” Jaehyun revealed, moving to pull your skirts down your legs. He kissed the big scar on your right knee, the one you were graced with after falling from a tree when you were only a little girl. “I knew I had to make something unique, intense, intelligent and breathtaking. It was how I wanted life to be at first. Understanding but full of rage, resting but full of ideas, lovely but with the highest ability to deprivation.”

You engaged in his words, sitting down to hover over him. The tips of your fingers caressed his chest in random moves until your hand moved along his trousers, where the volume of his erection was evident. You were turned on too, your white panties transparent where your pussy lips damped with scented juices. “So you made them alluring,” you guessed.

“So fucking tempting,” Jaehyun’s eyes darkened as he watched you.“With a heart to love, tits to bear milk, a womb to carry children…” as he spoke, his hands traveled on said parts, exploring you fervently. “Hips and ass… Those I made for my personal delight,” he admitted, making you smile playfully, shamelessly enjoying how his hands roamed up and down your cheeks.

“No wonder…” teasing, you pulled his pants down, now rubbing your clothed core on his bare dick.

Jaehyun grunted lowly. You loved your effect on him. You loved seeing Koschei going breathless for pussy, moaning heavily and clenching his eyes with pleasure and lust.

With one strategic move, Jaehyun snaked his arm on your waist and effortlessly turned you around. As he now hovered over you, the Lord of Life grabbed the side of your panties. “But my most favorite thing…” he continued, pulling the last piece of fabric that separated you down your legs. Fuck, you were so wet. So hotly soaked your juices stuck to the bottom of your panties in a crystal string, “is right here.”

Your rosy cunt was perfect for him. Big puffy lips that glistened with arousal surrounding a little clit, swollen in expectation. Folds so inviting his cock ached at the mere sight. Your lips also hid a tiny little hole that felt so right and tight around his cock, as though Jaehyun had personally made it to fit his proportions.

You registered the famine in his eyes. And it made you tremble.

“You did so good,” you praised him, brushing his black hair rewardingly. Every person had preferences that made them weak at the knees. Jaehyun, you figured, liked being praised. “You did so fucking good giving us such beautiful cunts.”

“And clits,” he added, rubbing yours softly with the pad of his thumb. His eyes were on you all the time, swallowing the erotic sight. “The only human organ with the purpose to provide pleasure.”

One of your dainty hands slid down your body and separated your lips to help him have both a better access and view to your cunt.

At your every little action, Jaehyun fell harder for you.

“What did you intend by making it?” you fed the conversation with your curiosity.

He responded by giving a broad and firm lick to your clit, making you moan in sweet pleasure. You were lucky enough to see how his tongue moved on you, his plump lips wrapping around your clit and sucking.

“H-holy shit,” you cursed, back arching on the mattress where he had been fucking you out of your mind for the last three weeks.

Jaehyun smirked, slurping on your soaking folds. He took his time, alternating the long sucks with gentle licks, repeating them countless times until you were breathing fast, grabbing the sheets and blushing at the needy sound of your affected voice.

To him, you were perfect from head to toe. All the extension of your skin so soft and smooth, every mark and scar composing the excellence of your being. You even had the proportions he liked, curvy and fertile. By now, Jaehyun had had you in different positions that allowed him nearly pornographic sights, and he was crazy for each one of them. Now, especially, he liked how your face contorted in pleasure, and how your hand held on his nape as he devoured you.

“So beautiful, my lady…The most beautiful I’ve fucked.” His nose brushed your vulva, taking your scent in deep. The signs of your orgasm were pretty clear: your hands clenched into fists, your hole pulsating in vibrations, your ever sober eyes lusty, almost unable to focus…

He could easily make you cum like that, but Jaehyun decided he wanted to prolong the fun. He leaned over you, lips finding yours in a slow and sensual pace, shivering at the needy touch of your hands and nails on his back. You kissed back hungrily — a kiss broken by a wanton moan as you felt the tip of his cock rub your entrance.

“Say I can, my lady,” Jaehyun searched for consent.

You locked eyes with him, once more witnessing how the world resumed to only the both of you. “Jaehyun…” you breathed his name, just because you loved it. “My love… Take me.”

The room was filled with a melodic combination of moans — yours, high and sensual; his, guttural and relieved — as your bodies became one. Your walls wrapped around him, suffocating his girth and clenching so sweetly Jaehyun saw stars at the back of his skull when his eyes closed shut for only a moment, because not to look at you would be the most unforgiving of sins. His hips rolled in a way he got deeper inside you, testing the waters not to hurt you, his most precious being. Your nails carved crescent moons on his shoulders, your mind blurred with desire, barely registering the devoted kisses Jaehyun planed on your shoulderblades as he started a loving, thrusting pace between your legs.

“S-so full,” you sighed in approval. “My pussy is so full.”

“If I knew you’d feel this good, miss, I would have fucking stolen you,” he grunted in your ear, speeding up the pace. “Would have broken into your temple and made your gods witness my love for you… Would have fucked you until you became a saint yourself…”

As twisted as that sounded, you liked it. There was no judgment between the both of you. With lewd, obscene eyes on his, you smirked. “I bet they’re watching now. Why don’t you show them exactly how much you love me?”

Fuck. He did. So deep and fast your hand had to reach for the luxurious headboard to steady yourself against it. Instinctively, Jaehyun placed one hand on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hit it, pushing his girthy member in and out of you with such expertise your breasts bounced right at his face, your sweet pliable body giving in so beautifully Koschei the Deathless could crown you his queen. Seeking to make you feel good, he reached low, rubbing circles on your little clit as his abdomen tensed with the strength of his hips.

“I love how you handle me,” you moaned lewdly, liking how goosebumps raised in the skin of his arms.

“You’re so fertile,” he returned the praise, his breath fast and wanton. “So perfect to breed, my love… I wanna fill you up with my seed.”

You came with a loud cry, that to Jaehyun sounded like an angel singing, your cunt gushing with juices that mixed with his seed. He couldn’t hold it back once you so eagerly gave yourself to him, lost in bliss and cock, your tempting little body trembling into his hold, features so lovely the Lord of Life felt as though he knew nothing about beauty.

When the Lord of Life came inside you, you felt as though the entirety of the world belonged to your womb. Like you carried every possibility of creation in your belly, too fucked out to properly think, only able to smile as you took in the freckles on his face, the foxy shape of his eyes, and the expressiveness of his frowned eyebrows as you gave him one last squeeze.

You never forgot how genuinely happy those days and nights were, how your tender hands played with his hair as Jaehyun listened to your heartbeat.

Those weeks with you were the closest he felt to peace.

“I see some sort of spiritual obsession related to her past life,” you announced to the mother whose child waited outside the room. It was your last appointment of the day, and even though you were tired, you tried to be welcoming when breaking such news. “That’s why she’s been having frequent nightmares.”

The mother looked at you with confused blue eyes. “I don’t understand…”

“Some spirits continue to feel the anger they felt in life, after they made the passage through the realms of Death. They become slaves to their own emotions, and might haunt the living until they decide to heal their own pain. I detected a spirit that is angry with your daughter, and it is highly probable that it is giving her nightmares.”

“How do you know that?”

“A priestess never works alone. A spiritual friend told me.”

“A spiritual friend?”

“Yes. I work with souls that decided not to reincarnate, and instead watch over us, guiding our journey.”

“That’s unusual,” her tone was skeptical. You did not blame her.

“In the immortal realm, indeed, but quite common in the mortal realm, if you’d like to know. I bet on the low level of soul acknowledgment.”

“I thought the Lady of Reincarnation and Chances took care of that.”

“Her job is to keep the wheel, not to teach on how to solve spiritual problems, although I admit that would make the world a much more lovely place.”

“What should I do, then?”

“Give your daughter a rue and camomile bath,” you picked up a bit of said herbs and handed it over to her. “I see you’re still skeptical about my methods, but I recommend you come back with her tomorrow. I’ll make contact with one of my friends and open a ritual to weaken the obsession. You will be here at all times, with your daughter. She won’t feel any pain.”

The mother was still unsure, but considering when you opened the door for her to leave. Much to your surprise, Jaehyun was outside with the little girl, clad in black clothing, singing her a song as she clapped her hands.

“My Lord,” the mother respectfully bent.

“Please, that’s not necessary,” Koschei spoke, smiling. He had always loved children. “I was having fun with this smart one,” he hummed, letting the girl jump from his thigh and join her mother. “I hope to see you again soon.”

The mother nodded weakly, keeping her gaze low as she intertwined her daughter’s hand in hers. “Thank you, my Lady. My Lord,” she bowed once again before heading outside, carrying her daughter with her. The lovely girl waved you goodbye.

Jaehyun then turned to you. “What was the diagnosis?”

“Heavy spiritual obsession related to reincarnation.”

“Ouch,” he hissed. “Who will you be calling?”

“Granny Isobel,” you informed. Granny Isobel was one of your closest spiritual guides. Her image was of an ancient black woman, sitting on a low bench and smoking a pipe. Besides from knowing a bunch of complex magics to disassociate spiritual obsessions, her personality was the kindest, the most humble, and even angry spirits got calmer in her presence.

“I love Granny Isobel,” Jaehyun cooed.

He knew the majority of your spiritual guides. You had told him everything when you were still working during the war. Back then, it wasn’t rare to call your guides when you needed extra assistance. They were always working by your side, and sometimes through you. Each of them had unique personalities and skills. They were your spiritual family.

“And I love Gravedigger, and Mary of Roses, and our dear, clever Little Bee…” Jaehyun continued, making you chuckle.

“You’re so flattering.”

“I’m genuine,” he assured, keeping his hands behind his back in a way he looked like a gentleman. “I came to personally escort you to dinner.”

Anxious, you noticed.

“Let me finish my prayers and we can go.”

After you did as you said, you closed the temple’s door, accepting Jaehyun’s arm and letting him guide you through the familiar manor.

“I have dreamed of this day,” he admitted.

“You’ve dreamed about having dinner with me?”

“As your husband?” He tilted his head towards you. “Definitely.”

So had you. Countless times.

Soon, you arrived at the corridor that led to Jaehyun’s office, where you usually had dinner. To your surprise, Jaehyun turned left and not right, pulling you to his side. “We’re not having dinner at the office anymore,” he calmly explained, leading you to the door that anticipated the garden.

Your eyes shone at the splendid sight: the delicate round lights hanging above the table for two, the white lilies breathing perfume through the night, the modest table setting made just for the both of you. Nothing too luxurious, nothing too much. Just a simple dinner outside, to enjoy the stars and the fresh nightly air that caressed your heated cheeks.

“This is beautiful,” you hummed in approval, sitting on the chair Jaehyun pulled for you.

“That’s how I wanted our nights to be after our honeymoon,” he admitted, taking the seat in front of you. His wedding ring shone brighter under the lights. “I know we didn’t have one, but we can. Anytime, any day.”

He was so flirty, so true and so damn smitten you could have smashed his cheeks in your hands and kissed him hard.

“I’ll think about it,” you breathed, intentionally eyeing the table. The growl in your stomach was heard at the smell of freshly baked bread, butter, meat and vegetables.

Some small talk proceeded as you served the food and ate, enjoying the captivating, sweet atmosphere of your encounter, as bees landed on the lilies and cicadas sang in the distance. Life. Everything was so full of life, again.

“I’ve been thinking about your peace proposal,” Jaehyun broke it to you.

“What have you decided?”

“Not much, I admit. Creating a new Lord or Lady is a complex thing, even more in the dynamics we are used to. Peace should be about controlling violence, and we’re too used to how violence tastes.”

“I agree. It has to be someone above life and death.”

“See? Complex.”

“Achievable?”

“In a way, yes. I’m still considering the possibilities.”

“Wanna share?”

“You’ll know eventually. I don’t wish to scare you now.”

“Few things scare me, Koschei.”

The name made Jaehyun’s eyes clench. He hated being called Koschei when you knew his layers a lot deeper, intimately.

“Love, as much as you’re dear to me, I must remind you that you’re not familiar with the dangerous limits between life and death.”

You hummed almost inaudibly, munching on some bread. “I don’t disagree.”

“Good girl,” a smirk blossomed on his kissable lips, just for the sake of fun, and for the sake of fun, too, you decided to tease him back while slicing the bread.

“If I remember correctly, sweet boy, I was not the one who liked being praised,” you noted, eyes sparkling with devilry.”

The way Jaehyun’s hand stilled on the fork had you smiling widely. It was impossible resisting how amazing you felt that you had such an effect on him. The hard swallow of his throat didn’t go unnoticed.

“I suggest you stop teasing me if you have no intentions of ending up on my bed tonight,” his warning was a delectable, adorable mix of danger and fluster that only made you chuckle in amusement. Jaehyun hardened his gaze. “You would not be laughing if you knew how I’ve suffered for the past two years. My hand is nothing compared to your warmth.”

You shouldn’t like it so much when he openly expressed his needs like that, but you still did and there was nothing to do about that.

“Sounds like you think you suffered exclusively,” you analyzed.

“Not what I meant,” Jaehyun took a sip of wine. “But good to know I was not alone.”

Oh, if he only knew. If your lovely husband was aware of the battles you fought against your own body in his absence, with hands whose control didn’t seem to belong to your own mind…

“We both suffered enough, I guess,” you brought a bit of sobriety to the dialogue. You still needed reassurance.

Jaehyun acquiesced, stealing the bread you had just sliced.

“By the way,” he grinned, “Mark and Vasilisa will be reincarnated tomorrow. I’ll make sure to tell you where, so you’re the first to know.”

The news lit up your face, your heart calm and content. They deserved a second chance.

“Thank you, Jaehyun. That means a lot to me.”

Jaehyun. Not Koschei.

“Your death… Did you really hide it?”

Your question echoed in the room’s darkness, so silent Jaehyun was able to listen to your heartbeat, as his ear rested on your bare chest, your hand gently caressing his hair.

“Yes,” was his forthright answer. “I hid it inside a needle, which is in an egg, which is in a duck, which is in a black hound, which is in an iron chest, which is buried under an oak tree, in the island we are at now.”

The amburana scent made company to your many thoughts as you hummed, tilting your head to look into his eyes.

“Do you regret it? Making yourself Deathless?”

Jaehyun turned his head, now supporting his chin above your breasts. His hand started drawing random patterns on your left hip, like he was testing your softness at the tip of his fingers. The same fingers who just had explored every inch of you.

“I don’t. Deathless is what I am,” he murmured.

“Doesn’t it mean that you’re destined to watch people die time after time? It must be hard…”

“It is,” he agreed. “I admit I’ve been thinking more about it now that I have you.”

His confession felt like he was carved in your heart like bullets in the flesh, like stars in the clear sky. “Time is passing for you, but it’s stopped for me” Jaehyun caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. “One day, eventually, you’ll get old…”

“You don’t have to think about that now, love” you interfered, because you, yourself, did not want to face the truth.

“If I don’t, then there will come the day you’re gone, and I’ll be suddenly on my own again.” His eyes were filled with tenderness as he uttered every word. Gently, Jaehyun grabbed your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. “I’ll love you until you’re old and need my aid in walking…”

“Why are you saying those things?” you chuckled, wishing both to laugh and cry.

“Because I have to be ready to breathe Life into you after Death takes you away. I can have you reincarnated. Then, I’ll just have to patiently wait a few years until you’re grown enough to be courted.”

The intensity of what he was telling you made your heart skip a beat. What Jaehyun was proposing was living through the thorns of time and pain to be with you, keeping his love for you alive until your last days, and waiting until you were available for his love and care. It overwhelmed you so deeply your eyes watered, and you moved quickly to hide your face in the pillow.

“Don’t,” he chuckled, grabbing your chin lovingly.

“You’re making me cry!” you protested, closing your eyes.

“Silly girl,” Jaehyun sighed, replacing his hand with his lips in an attempt to ease you. “Allow yourself to feel. Love is a beautiful thing.”

“You’re promising me an eternity of love… What if I get so old and senile you won’t ever try going after me again? What if our love wears out?” You placed your insecurities in your mouth.

Jaehyun’s kiss turned into a sudden, slightly painful punishment bite in your lower lip. You opened your mouth to confront him, but he kissed you hard, passionately, hovering over you, his body pressing yours, his scent in your lungs, his hardness against your soaked folds… What he said next echoed in your bones like an earthquake, shaking your every fiber before you melted in his arms once again, like you were always going to. “If that day ever comes, then I’ll be truly dead.”

The mother returned with her daughter: their sessions kept you occupied for most of your time, as Granny Isobel demanded. Obsessions demanded more than simply communicating with a guide: you had to incorporate the spirits so they could use your body — it was nothing like a possession, as you were conscious at all moments, sharing your mind with the guides you were so devoted to.

After five sessions, Granny Isobel had it all solved, and the girl could go back home to sleep peacefully.

Jaehyun had asked the mother if he could observe the rituals, and with her approval, he stood inside the temple watching you work. It was truly amazing, how your entire face changed after Granny had arrived, and how you sounded like someone else as Granny smoked her pipe.

When the last session was over, Jaehyun approached her.

“Granny, is there anything else you need? A cup of coffee? Another smoking pipe?” he politely checked, bending to be on your eye level.

“Thank you, my child. I’ve had enough,” Granny replied with a gentle smile that made your eyes tiny under the straw hat. She always called others ‘child’, and Koschei the Deathless was not an exception. “I only wished to talk to you in private.”

“Sure, what is it you want to talk about?”

Speaking as another spirit was in your head was an arduous thing to explain. It felt as though someone else put the words in your brain so you could pronounce them. So, when Granny spoke, you wondered what she meant:

“You’ve been worrying your head over bad news, and I wanted to tell you to share the weight, child. Tell my girl about what’s making you lose your sleep.”

You stood there, in your body, without having a single idea of what Granny Isobel knew. Still, the immediate recognition in Jaehyun’s face told you that he did. “Alright, Granny,” he nodded. “Thank you for your advice..”

“Not at all, my child. You can call me anytime. Granny is always here to help her children.” In slow, trembling movements, Granny removed the hat from your head and placed it on Jaehyun’s. She took a last puff on her pipe and then allowed your head to be still, intertwining your hands and closing your eyes. After long breaths, you noticed the control over your fingers, the saliva in your mouth, your free toes touching the stone ground. Your eyes opened, taking in the worried face in front of you.

“What is it?” was your natural, obvious question.

Jaehyun breathed, removing the hat from his head. “I have to show you something.”

Twenty minutes later, you were on a horse as Jaehyun rode, his chest to your back, to the mortal realm. Magic once again made the passage smooth and almost imperceptible, but you swiftly sensed the difference.

Jaehyun took you to a foreign country with beautiful landscapes. He rode until you reached a bounteous city, where people excitedly talked and interacted over barracks of food, fabric, souvenirs and witchcraft. As you passed them by, Jaehyun held your hand, guiding you through the feverish crowd until you arrived at a square where a middle-aged man dressed in red made a speech so ardent spit escaped from his mouth. Even if the language sounded completely strange to your ears, you understood he was angry and greedy. People around you agreed with him — mostly men, shaking their heads in agreement.

At the middle of his speech, the man pointed to a table where a young boy, dressed as a soldier, waited for new recruits.

You squeezed Jaehyun’s hand, your saliva suddenly too hard to swallow. “Jae, they’re-”

“Preparing for war,” Jaehyun nodded somberly.

You stood back to witness how quickly a line was formed in front of the table, how eagerly men filled their information on paper, how young boys joined their fathers, and how children looked at the future soldiers with adoration widening their pupils. Some even pretended to be carrying guns and shooting around.

There was nothing you and Jaehyun could do about them, as free-will had always been something holy, even to the Lords and the Ladies. You looked around, your gaze ending up on Jaehyun’s grave face. The frown in his complexion turned his apprehension in.

“What now?” you asked.

“Let’s go back,” he decided. “I don’t want others listening.”

The ride back to Buyan seemed to go by slower than the other way around, or maybe it was just your heart’s anxiety. How long until the Lord of Death was knocking on the manor’s door? How long until he striked first, and murdered the servants? How long until he got to you?

You shook those sinister questions away for as long as you could, following Jaehyun inside the manor, up to his office, close to bouncing on your feet out of concern.

It was hard for Jaehyun to face you and speak, to finally share something both occult within his shadows and faithful to his nature. But you deserved to know. You deserved to understand.

Jaehyun circled the table, looking at the maps of the immortal realm before speaking.

“It starts by affecting me,” he confessed. “Whenever humans, made by my own doing, fight, I feel. I sense their despair, their anger, their urgency for revenge and destruction. It cuts me so deep as though a knife is carved in my chest, and the more I try to ignore it, the more I bleed,” as he spoke, both Jaehyun and Koschei the Deathless poured their truths to you. “My only power is to create and take care of life, and when war breaks, the need of survival forces me to act. Therefore, the war starts with me, Y/N. I strike first.”

You held his gaze, then took a step forward, and another one. “Have you started feeling anything already?” you demanded.

“Anger. Just a shot.”

“Do you think it will happen again? For real?”

His smile was sad. “It always does, Y/N.”

Shit.

You reached for Jaehyun’s hands, bringing them to your lips. At that moment, you thanked Granny Isobel for seeing through him, for encouraging him to tell you.

“You have to create Peace, Jae,” a severe seriousness was found in both your voice and eyes.

“It’s compl-”

“I know, but it has to be done. You must come up with something that eases your pain when humans fight. You’re not in control of their actions, but you’re in control of yours. If you strike first, the immortal realm is in danger.”

“It still won’t keep Yuta from striking if he has a chance,” he murmured, and you sensed some hesitation in his tone, as if Jaehyun feared your creative brain.

“Use something he is scared of. Something Yuta cherishes so much he will refuse to fight. Tell me,” you lowered your hands, “what does Death fear?”

The silence between you seemed to last hours before Jaehyun spoke again. You were so smart. Too smart for your own good.

“He fears having nothing to fight against. Death fears the lack of life.”

The knowledge left a bitter taste on your tongue. “So Yuta fears your death,” you concluded.

A small, harmless nod, confirmed your theory.

“You were right when you said peace should be above all things. By controlling my death, they will have power over me, and over Yuta.” Never before had you witnessed such a strong glare on Jaehyun’s eyes. Never before such sinister sincerity had clouded his lovely irises.

And even before he said it, you got it. You immediately understood what made the creation of peace so complicated.

“I’ll show you where I hid it, and then you’ll possess my death,” Jaehyun smiled confidently, brushing one hair strand behind your ear. “After it is done, you can be her. You can be the Lady of Peace.”

Breathlessly, his hands dug into the humid, cold earth as the night sky glowled with red lightning. The duck was still alive, moving inside the black hound, her long ears up inside the heavy iron chest.

It was Koschei, alone, at the beginning of times, hiding his death.

Because of his loneliness, he breathed life into a deadly brother. Because of life, he was always going to fight him. But Koschei himself could not be killed, as his death meant the end of every kind of life, the eternal termination of humanity itself. And so he dug.

The night was dark as if crafted by the solitude of an angel; the cicadas sang their monotony and it echoed through the endless Buyan trees. Jaehyun had you by the hand, confidently walking among the forest shadows, as moonlight only peeked through the few empty holes in the treetops.

“That was not what I asked for,” you breathed so hard it resembled an angry bull, your nostrils swollen. Becoming a Lady, someone with holy powers and immortality, was not on your list, and the mere idea that you would have Jaehyun’s death in your hands, to own him… It overwhelmed you in ways you couldn’t define as inviting or just fucking terrifying. “I can’t- Jaehyun, I can’t be a Lady-”

He laughed your refusal off, canine teeth sharp against his lower lip when he looked over his shoulder. “You’re perfect for the role, sweetheart. I would never hand my death to anyone else.”

It was his docility against your rage.

You finally arrived at a stream in which clear water musically flowed down small rocks, and a few stony, muddy steps took to an old oak tree, with branches so tortured by time and circumstance they were wry.

Rebel goosebumps assaulted your skin, delating the mystery hidden under the heavy, old earth.

“Let’s suppose Death strikes against you, and I have to keep you from fighting back. What if you fail? Will I have to…” The following words felt like a crime, so you did not pronounce them.

“Kill me?” Jaehyun dared, frowning playfully as he stood in front of you. “It won’t come to that, love.”

“How can you be so sure?” you demanded.

“Because of you. You’ll have the ability of peace: it will be anywhere with you. That’s what Ladies and Lords do. Baba Yaga, she controls luck: wherever she is, luck is with her. Why do you think I sent her to protect you? Plus,” your husband hummed, caressing your lower lip with his thumb, “the least thing that would make you is a helpless wife. You’ll be an equal.”

“I’ll be powerful,” you retorted. Jaehyun’s proposal amused and frightened you symmetrically. He was offering you more than just peace. Jaehyun was offering Himself, as the myth promised. You felt the need to remind him: “Only someone who possesses Koschei’s hound can have him in their power.”

As the oak tree top danced freely to the wind, moonlight slid in and reflected the tender, calm brown shade in his eyes.

“Only power can make us equal,” Jaehyun kissed your forehead, arms wrapping around you in a comforting hug. His chest to yours soothed your urge to protest, and you allowed yourself to focus on the simple task of breathing his scent in. “This will satisfy you more than you think, Y/N. And if you believe you’ll be ready to be my wife after that, I’ll be waiting in body and soul.”

Silenced by your own ignorance, you came face to face with the consequences of your desires, clutching to Jaehyun’s embrace not to fall. He trusted you like that, to be the one holding the only thing that could risk not only his life, but the life of everything that existed.

Gently, you parted from his arms, gazing both the sincerity and vulnerability in his eyes. Only power could make you equal.

A slow nod came from your face, and at that Jaehyun grinned. Then, he started digging up, hands dirty with mud, reaching lower and lower until his digits came across the iron chest. He opened it with a key he kept secret in his coat. Inside, you glimpsed a black hound with the longest ears, with eyes as brown as Koschei’s. You returned to the manor with the hound following you closely.

Everyone knew Koschei breathed life into the first humans, as he did to the first trees, mountains, seas, and the animals that inhabited the earth. On the other hand, even if the story was familiar, passed from generation to generation, from parents to children, no one had ever witnessed how it was done. How life was created.

Part of you rationally expected Jaehyun to take you to his office, where he spent restless nights scheming war strategies and daydreaming about possibilities. Much to your surprise, he took you to your bedroom. Not his bedroom, not yours, but the room that once belonged to the both of you. Where you made love for the first time. Where you felt the most loved, adored, worshiped.

Jaehyun closed the door and approached you slowly. The hound stood calmly by your side, blinking her eyes without a worry in the world. “She’s been trained to only obey her master,” the Lord of Life’s grave voice caressed the skin of your ear, making you notice exactly how close he stood. Daring and determined, his hands landed on your hips. “She will do anything you want.”

Inside the hound, a duck breathed. Inside the duck, there was an egg, and inside the egg, there was a needle. You could already feel it. The power. And once again, magic never failed to impress you, because it was nothing like you imagined. Everytime you pictured someone powerful, your imagination created images of virility and strength; crowns and servants; realms and governments. But what you now felt was a calm so intricate within your bones nothing could disturb it, a root tangled in the end of the world with its eyes closed in great superiority, as though all problems had a solution.

You felt complete, filled up, unbothered. Soothing.

Suddenly, the hound moved to rest on the armchair by the window, where the curtains swayed with the cool night breeze. You let her be. She was not going to run away from you.

“From this day on, you will always feel her,” Jaehyun murmured, unable to resist the urge to pull your hair from your neck and gently lean over, intoxicated by the ever lovely spring you brought to his lungs. “She’s yours to take care of now.”

You breathed solemnly, your body euphoric, the tip of your fingers numb in sweet expectation.

“How do you do it, Jaehyun?”

He knew exactly what you referred to.

Effortlessly, Jaehyun turned you to him with a swift move of his hands. You had been avoiding your proximity for so long, torturing yourself for weeks, too driven by your stubbornness, only to melt into his arms.

“With a kiss,” he answered, each word punctuated slowly and delicate against the skin of your neck. The sniff Jaehyun took made you tremble. He straightened himself, purposefully looking into your eyes. “But for you, my wife, and only for you, we can do it differently. I can breed life into you.”

You moaned. A low, barely there moan that betrayed you and your untrained instincts.

Fuck.

Quickly, you cleared your throat. “That’s a drastic change I have yet to consider,” you hurried yourself in explaining, looking away to the window in fear desire would take the lead and betray your reasoning.

Jaehyun took a deep breath.

“You’re still mad at me,” he concluded. The way he sounded disappointed made you frown.

“I haven’t, but now that you sound so frustrated, I might. What were you expecting, that I immediately accepted your proposal?” Your voice grew in anger the more you spoke. “Did you bring me here to fuck me and get it done?”

“No!” Jaehyun immediately defended himself, although there was guilt in his eyes. “It’s not like you’re putting in.”

You hummed in disdain.

Jaehyun protested. “I thought this was what you wanted!”

“Jaehyun, I am human! Whatever you thought I wanted is not such a sudden change that will make me live young and long like you gods do!” You could rub your temples, as a headache started growing. “Please, give me time to process things.”

You noticed how the thoughts ran through his head, and how quickly he accepted the idea of taking it easy on you, so when he offered you his arms, you stepped closer. Comforting, his embrace soothed your worries as quickly as a blow in a candle.

“I’m sorry, love. I genuinely thought it was what your heart desired.”

“It’s fine,” you rested your cheek on his chest, gaze crossing the hound’s. “I just need time.”

The hound followed you around like a magnet. Wherever you were, she followed religiously, her distant gaze always on what you were doing, as though she had fully understood who her true guardian would be. To say she was always around would imply in admitting the hound spent her time with you in the temple, hidden by the table not to call any attention as people were allowed in and you worked normally. Or so you liked to think, because sincerely, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jaehyun’s proposal.

Your mind was in a constant spiral towards whether you were going to accept it or not, and the consequences. It got to a point where you caught yourself staring into the hound’s eyes time and time again, losing the track of time and space.

A sudden knock on the door made your shoulders jump. You were not expecting anyone, but opened nonetheless.

“Granny!” You cheered at the sight of the old woman with the usual non-pleased look on her face.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” Baba Yaga walked in without further ceremony, her pointy nose crossing the door before the rest of her body did. She took a careful look around, smelling the room as if to analyze it. “I see you got your temple. Are you finally happy?”

“Yes,” you nodded, making the old witch glare at you.

“But not fully. Why haven’t you accepted Papa Koschei’s offer yet?”

You clenched an eyebrow at her. “Did he send you?”

“No, selfish girl,” she growled, circling the temple until she stopped near the altar. “I came because the luck of the world is about to change. For the first time, we can witness a plain state of peace. No more terrible wars. Wars, as you’re familiar, are unlucky things. You only had what to eat and where to shield because I was there, paying my endless doubt to Koschei, but the rest of the world didn’t have such a blessing. With you as Lady of Peace, I will have to work twice as hard, and I must prepare.”

“So you came to make sure I accept Jaehyun’s offer?”

“You have to,” Baba Yaga simply replied.

“It’s a lot to consider, granny…”

Her cat eyes could have cut you in two like a sharp knife. “Why demand power if you can’t take it, child?” she hissed. “You have the upper hand: you’re finally able to make a choice and bring peace to others. Why hesitate?”

You decided to be sincere. “I guess it’s because I never thought I was going to be the one in charge. The one providing peace. Jaehyun’s offer challenges me. If I accept it, everything will change, even my human nature.”

“It’s not that different, trust me.”

Penetrating, your eyes scanned her. “Have you been human?”

“Human, homeless, broken, abandoned,” Baba Yaga breathed, but her words did not hold any pain or misfortune. “It was a kiss from a young man who saved me.”

Jaehyun.

She kept talking: “You can still be surrounded by humans if you’d like. Eat their food, listen to their music, and help them. In fact, child, you’ll be more of use to humanity if you become something else than human. It has always been like that.”

“The audacity and the nerve of the gods,” playfully, you rolled your eyes. “That’s what I am truly scared of.”

“War is about to start and you’re making everyone lose their time, stupid girl,” Baba Yaga advised. “After everything Papa Koschei has done for you… He won the war, brought you back and offered you a new life, a life full of peace and riches, with endless flavors, and here you are, thinking about it!” she spat, about to open her mouth again, certainly to put you to shame, when the hound walked away from the table, making her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, my! Is it…?”

You only nodded, petting the top of the hound’s head.

The smell of black coffee filled the kitchen in the first morning hours when the explosions shook the ground. Baba Yaga stared at the open window, taking in the details of the ceilings, the beautiful clear, bluest sky, and the absolutely lack of birds. If she closed her eyes, she would be able to see the shotguns and bayonets, the blood running from the uniforms, the broken men wandering the fields, walking towards their death.

Even if she wasn’t human anymore, Baba Yaga despised the inhumanity of war. Her old heart ached when she put her feet outside and saw children all dirty and starving, young mothers with babies in their laps considering selling their bodies for money, and crippled men who returned all fucked up, unsure of how to deal with the pain and the haunting memories. The old witch hated what Koschei had done to her, sending her to the mortal realm to witness the terrible things people did to each other, but her loyalty knew no limits, and so she stayed.

You came into the kitchen all startled. Having woken up with the grave noises outside, you jumped from the bed with a swollen face and your hair all messed up, eyes red from how much you had been silently crying in your room at night.

“Is it t-them? Are the soldiers coming?” you stuttered, taking a look at the same window Baba Yaga had been staring at for long minutes.

“Yes, but don’t you worry,” she responded as though war was nothing but a storm. Heavy and temporary. “They’re not getting to this street.”

You tilted your face to hers. “What do you mean, granny?”

It was so simple you would never believe it, how easily Baba Yaga managed Luck. It took one move of her wrinkled hand for the entire army to ignore there was a certain street, in which lived a young beautiful lady, with a very old woman. There were so many things you didn’t understand, things it was not the time for you to know, so Baba Yaga simply moved her hand and lifted her shoulders.

“Just a guess.”

If war was coming, you kept a careful note to watch over Jaehyun.

You did not quite understand how his emotions shifted, but the first sign was as clear as water: his company was as pleasant as ever, but Jaehyun often looked at a specific, invisible spot on the wall and disappeared into his own thoughts, hands clenched into fists on the table. He looked so distant even after he assured you everything was fine, because he didn’t want to influence your decision by showing you how he had already started being affected. Still, you thought it was a bad moment to tell him you had finally made your decision.

You came across the second sign one night, as you and the hound stopped at a very unusual sight: Jaehyun, sat at the stairs to your shared bedroom, sobbing lowly.

“What’s wrong, Jaw?” you sat in front of him, your tone worried and assisting as you patted his shaking shoulders.

He lifted his expressive eyes, and by the surprise in them, he had not heard you approaching. “I suddenly felt emotional.”

“What a terrible liar,” you gently wiped his tears with your thumbs. “Is it the war? Has it started?”

He nodded. “I can feel the loss. Mothers crying all day, girls and boys losing their childhood, lovers that won’t ever return...”

Your gaze lowered in time to capture your hand intertwining with his. Slowly, you brought it to your mouth, placing a kiss at the back of it. It amazed him, how you weren’t Lady of Peace, but managed to calm his mind and heart effortlessly with a single touch.

When you spoke again, your tone was definitive. “I’ve made my decision.”

Jaehyun swallowed, suddenly nervous by the determination in your voice. Mercifully, you didn’t wait for him to ask what your decision was, pronouncing every word clearly. “I accept your proposal.”

The only times you had watched Jaehyun’s face light up with such delight was when he asked for your hand in marriage and when he saw you in your impeccable wedding dress. As if in slow motion, his eyes squinted slightly, his cheeks raised, and the soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes matched the sweet smile blooming in his lips. And just like that, looking very similar to a boy in front of a candy factory, he hugged you.

“Thank you!” Jaehyun poured his gratitude in his voice, pulling you to him with his arms around your neck. “Thank you, my love, for making my life better! For being you, my lovely wife…” He cried and reached for your face, kissing your forehead, then the space between your eyebrows, your nose — oh, he loved your nose —, your cheeks, your chin, and all the way up to your forehead again.

You smiled, amused by another side of the man that created the entirety of the world. It stopped your breath, how much of a loved child he became when he was happy.

“I’ll prepare everything slowly, so you don’t need to hurry,” Jaehyun pulled away, but continued to cup your face, so holy to him. “We can do it tomorrow, in a week or whenever you want. One kiss and it will be done.”

You squeezed your eyes, trying not to smirk. “I beg your pardon, husband, but you promised me way more than a kiss.”

Your words had an instant effect. Jaehyun was not like a boy anymore, as his eyes widened with clouds of lust.

“Would you like that?” he searched for consent. “Being bred?”

“Yes.”

“Have me fill you up, make you drip with my seed, make you my Lady?”

A shiver ran down your belly, warm where it landed. Your pride, which took you two years to build, was nothing compared to the absolute bliss of being once again desired by him, the man you freely gave your heart to. Your pride could never top the realization that Jaehyun, in the solemn act of gifting you his death, trusted you entirely, and you were going to assure, love and care for him. At that moment, even if you tried gathering every little attempt to resist him, it was going to be in vain, because pride was nothing compared to love.

“Yes, my love” you grinned adorably before pressing a peck to his lips, breathing in the manly scent of amburana. “Now.”

As quick and determined as your request, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and took you inside the room. You didn’t have the time to register the orange intensity of the flames in the fireplace, the flowers on the bedside tables — small details Jaehyun arranged last minute, with a breath in the world, to set up the mood. The only thing you could focus on was his desireful eyes after he pushed you flush to him, making you lightheaded with arousal.

Your chests heaved in unison while his hands slid to the strings of your dress. Skilled, long hands that had your thighs clenching in sweet anticipation. The sensation of your breasts inside the loosened fabric nearly made you squirm. To help, you untangled yourself from the sleeves and moved your hips to pull the skirt down to your feet, along with your undies, standing beautifully naked in front of your husband, your heart skipping several beats as he eyed you with so much need it made him look drunk, as if he was consuming you.

The force in which your lips smashed could not be described.

Only now, with his velvety lips on yours, you understood how badly you had missed Jaehyun. How flavorless life had been when he was not around, how incomplete the days were without his love and his arms to hold you.

He lifted you up, allowing you to snake your legs around his waist, while your tongues danced sensually, moans colliding in the lovely mess of lips and saliva. Then, he placed you on the mattress, taking a look at your body in a way it felt like he was committing your image to his memory for eternity.

“You have no idea how I’ve missed you,” he growled, with a line of crystal water flooding his eyes, before burying his face in your chest, kissing your voluminous breasts.

Eagerly, your hands removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, touching every inch of skin exposed. “I’ve missed you just the same,” you confessed, cheeks flushing with pleasure at the long sucks of his mouth on your nipples.

Driven by need, Jaehyun proceeded to take off his pants himself while his mouth continued its worship on your tits. The flex of his muscles was divine to you, his broad shoulders perfect for the delicacy of your hands, his hips tailor-made to fit between the warmth of your legs. There was no way you could resist how your gaze fixated on his lower body, heated by what you saw.

“You’re so huge…” You had almost forgotten, the praise making your husband bite his lower lip.

“You can take it. Gotta make sure you’re wet and ready, wife” Jaehyun kissed your jawline, now using his hands to explore your skin. He was a slave to your perfectly crafted body, its godly curves, divine folds, small and strategically located moles he knew by heart. For your body alone he would be on his knees begging, lips devoted to every inch of your skin, and the lovely way you responded to him driving him all kinds of insane.

“I want to take it slow,” he swiftly spread your thighs. The visceral grunt that left his lips at the sight of your soaked entrance reverberated on your bones.

“We have time,” you grinned, lowering your hand to your folds and running two digits against the warm, velvety juices, only to smear them on Jaehyun’s lower lip. “We have all night to make a baby.”

With a growl, Jaehyun’s hands were on the back of your knees, keeping your thighs separated, which meant you were fully spread and exposed for him. He leaned towards your cunt, readily using his wet and hot tongue on you. You moaned his name like both a curse and a prayer.

“Missed this beautiful pussy so much,” he whispered. “My gorgeous girl, my lovely priestess… I’m going to ruin you.”

Shit. You had never been so turned on, dripping right at his tongue. Jaehyun ate you out so well, tongue circling your clit, alternating long and broad licks with quicker ones.

“You’re such a dream,” you complimented breathly, back arching at the slurp on your swollen clit. “I love you so much, Jaehyun. Gonna breed me good, pump me full of c-“ a high-pitched moan cut you off when he sucked on your clit, the heated, sinful sensations between your legs so good you squirted a little.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, only more determined to make you cum in his mouth. “That’s it, baby. Let go.” It didn’t surprise you that his slender finger slid inside you so easily, considering how wet you were. Jaehyun expertly combined the long suction of his mouth with sharp pumps of his fingers, massaging a sensitive spot inside you that made your thighs shake. You came hard and long, closing your eyes shut as your sweet body convulsed.

When you opened your eyes, you noticed the bed was wet, and Jaehyun’s chin dripped with crystal squirt.

You had to touch him.

In no time, you were on your knees with your hands wrapped around his cock, pumping him tortuously firm and slow. Your heart fluttered, because Jaehyun looked at you as if you had personally put the stars in the sky, when you both knew who blew the glow in them in the first place. The way he looked at you… It was just healing, making you feel like the most alluring woman in the world.

“Please,” he begged, balls tense with how much cum he had for you. Your dainty hands on him had always been too much for his sanity to take. “Please, let me in.”

Mercifully, you aligned his cock with your entrance and swiftly took all of his girth at once. The burning stretch, after so long, pulled a pornographic moan out of your throat, one that mixed with the grave groan Jaehyun let out. Your eyes locked with pleasure before you lifted your hips and sank down on him again, aware of how tight your walls gripped his length, like a vice.

“I love you,” Jaehyun threw his head back with a hiss, exposing his neck for your lips. As you kissed him there, his calloused hands grabbed your hips in adoration, helping the firm pace you set. “I love you madly, my dear, my wife- so pretty bouncing on my cock, ready to be filled.”

You thrived on the praise, speeding your hips and drinking from the bliss on his face. “I’m yours, Jae,” your foreheads touched, lips brushing in passion. “I’m yours, my husband.”

Jaehyun was easily the luckiest man alive, graced with such words combined to the tightness of your heavenly walls. The image of you on top of him, calling him husband, the scent of your arousal soaking the bed, your lovely breasts bouncing, the spasms of your cunt nearly milking him dry… It was all driving him crazy to breed you full and not let any drip of cum escape.

Impulsively, he rolled your bodies on the bed and lifted your hips before he was pounding you hard and fast, your calves resting above his shoulders as he reached deep inside, repeatedly hitting your cervix. You took the chance to admire him, aroused by how his muscles clenched, black hair falling onto his forehead, his beautiful face contorted in the pleasure of taking you to himself. The position also allowed a constant friction against your clit, and you could already feel another orgasm lurking.

“You’ll be mine forever,” Jaehyun grinned with delight, keeping your legs against his chest as his hips met yours. Differently from all the times you had sex before, you sensed he was deeper this time, as though his own cells mixed with yours, as if you shared the same blood… Like he was making you fertile, full of life. “My Lady of Peace, above everything, above everyone. Mine to love, mine to rule me..”

You nodded, absolutely in love with how it sounded. You were so lucky, so damn lucky it was hard to believe. A needy moan escaped your mouth right into his when his cock reached all the right places. You tensed, closing your eyes as the pleasure grew beyond measure.

“Eyes on me,” Jaehyun commanded, and you obeyed, taking every thrust as your body rocked underneath his. “I want you to look at me when I breed life into you.”

It felt so desperately good, so out of any world and realm, that you sank your nails in the skin of his shoulders, a victim of how your pussy clenched and pulsated around his cock until you were cumming hard, trembling, holding his gaze as yours faltered, full of ecstasy and pleasure.

The alluring sight of your orgasm edged Jaehyun on, and you thanked that your eyes were open, blessed with the image of your husband cumming inside you: with pupils so blown out his irises were almost black, a furrow in his lovely brows, and a moan so deep in his throat your own orgasm lasted a little longer, squirting juices mixing with thick, pearly seed that coated your cunt.

You remained tied with each other, your forehead on his shoulder and one of his arms supporting your weight, until your breaths calmed down and the aftershocks smoothened. There was nothing but happiness in your eyes, nothing but fulfillment as you laughed, high on love. Buried in your warmth, Jaehyun took his time feeling you, caressing your face with the back of his hand with shooting stars in his eyes. He had waited so long for the day where he could be with you like that, silent on a bed, just taking in every detail of your face — and now, not only you were where he’d dreamed of, but you were his Lady: someone who possessed his death as much as his life, someone that belonged to eternity as every other Lord and Lady he had created.

No words were needed. You just had to enjoy every second, allowing yourselves to be allured, to surrender to the love you were promised to. And to give into the peace that started flourishing in your chest like a white lily.

It was past noon when your eyes opened. Your body woke up slowly, muscles growing aware of small aches left by love making, that unconsciously spread your lips in a blooming smile. Stretching on the mattress, you got aware of the toned arms on your waist, and the heavy breath on your neck.

Much to your delight, the face you landed your eyes on belonged to the only person you ever wished to share your mornings with. Jaehyun slept peacefully, with a glimpse of satisfaction on his undisturbed complexion. It made you smile, how happy he seemed, how gentle and warm his aura was while you caressed his face, brushing his hair back.

Shortly after, he opened his eyes, immediately surrendering to a wide smile. “Am I dreaming?” your husband hummed in a sleepy tone.

“Not this time,” you nested yourself in his bare chest. “I’m right here.”

“Yes,” he cheered lowly and secured the grip of his arms around you. “Did my wife sleep well?”

“Perfectly. What about my husband?”

“Better than the Lord of Sleep himself.”

You chuckled together, Jaehyun’s dimples showing up in a sweet display. “Does it mean you feel better?”

“I feel…” Jaehyun chose the right words, “I feel comfortably peaceful.”

You felt it too. A state of calm, quiet and amity: a delicate reflex of the purest easiness.

“So no loss, no rage, no need to strike first?” you asked to make sure.

Jaehyun shook his head. Calm flooded his eyes — you wondered if it had anything to do with you. As if he could read your mind, he grinned, running his hand through your hair. “Even your aura is different now. Clearer. You’ve got a power that belongs to you only, and you’ll learn how to use it. So far, though, you’re doing amazing.”

“I think I have to try with someone else. You’re too smitten not to be influenced by me,” you teased, instantly rewarded with a slap on your ass cheek.

“I’m sure Yuta or Baba Yaga will offer you a much greater challenge.”

Indeed. Tougher minds for you to easy, but you were confident you would manage.

Your side sank slightly on the mattress when Jaehyun reached for the bedside table, where his coat had landed. You watched his hand slip inside the pocket and return with a familiar silver wedding ring on his palm. “Can I put it back?” Jaehyun carefully asked, his tender and big eyes asking for the sweetest of permissions.

A genuine smile blossomed on your lips. You softly lifted your hand, keeping it in place for him to put the ring back on. The metal was warm as though Jaehyun had been wearing it for you. As if his love guarded the ring with flames.

My name is Baba Yaga and this story belongs to me, so I will tell it.

Lucky times, those were, when at the dawn of war, men pulled their bayonets down and went back home, to the arms of their parents and loved ones. Graceful days, with once compromised by rage politicians calmly negotiating with their deadly enemies — men, usually so built up in the narrative of rage, became reasonable and easier to deal with. Fewer people died. The world was a tranquil, welcoming place.

They said it was because of a Lady, crafted in serenity, whose kiss soothed the heart of humans and gods. A woman dressed in white, crowned with sunlight, her hair free and wild with the wind, her eyes alluring, and a smile so contagious it reminded people of their own joy. Peace was nothing but a great state of self satisfaction, and the Lady understood it well, working peace with her fingers as spiders weaved webs.

The Lady of Peace had a black hound, people said. They also said that she had Koschei the Deathless eating right from her hand, like a dog. That he stood in front of her on his knees, black hair like a rook's wings on his face, as the Lady of Peace went through her maps, always aware of where she needed to strike first. That Koschei, the Lord of Life, stood as a servant at her disposal, his shadows submitting to her holy light. She had a sharp eye, a sharper mind, and a fatal way to slide into people’s bloodstream with the calmest of touches.

Obviously, the ones who thrived on violent games were against her existence, but the Lady of Peace was not an ordinary opponent: every attempt to fight her was met with sweet carelessness, and soon enough those who tried taking her down moved on with their lives as though they had not been angry in the first place.

“I have never been so bored,” confessed Death once, when I invited him over for tea. “Can’t even do my job properly.”

“Hush,” I spat. “You still have the accidented, the sick and the old. Good thing that ambitious woman let you have them too.”

“Love makes a fool of us all.”

“It does,” I agreed, “but it also brings out the best of us.”

Never before have I had so much work to get done. Luck and peace walked hand in hand, like sisters. If I had to be completely honest, seeing people happy pleased me, so much so that I did not complain about the workload. Perhaps I was more peaceful myself.

Until that day, of course. The day the black hound was stolen.

“Magic doesn’t happen when you light a candle simply,” you explained as the attentive eyes of Mark and Vasilisa watched. “You have to activate the flame, using your words and intentions. The spiritual guides are always by your side to help, but you have to do your part and be specific about what you want.”

You had taken Baba Yaga’s advice and accepted both children as your apprentices. Six years had passed from the day you were crowned Lady of Peace, which gave the reincarnated souls — that were so dear to you — time to grow and be able to understand a few principles of magic. What you did was a serious job, and thankfully they were pretty much interested in everything you had to say.

“Can I try?” Mark politely lifted his hand.

With a short nod, you complied. “Sure.”

The little boy gathered his hands in front of his face, palms against each other, and closed his eyes. “Please, Granny Isobel, let us have a good harvest of watermelons so I can eat them everyday for breakfast.”

You had to retain the chuckle on your lips, instead keeping a serious expression.

“Good! Anything else you want, Mark?”

He opened his eyes. “Pudding for dessert.”

“Anything besides food, perhaps?”

“Oh, intelligence. And health.”

“Go ahead, ask granny. What about you, Val?”

Vasilisa hummed, placing the tip of her finger against her lips. “I just wish to grow up and become an independent, strong woman.”

Your heart fluttered. “That’s a very reasonable wish. Go on, make your wish.”

Both children stood in front of white candles, one for each, and made their prayers. Through the silence in the temple, you sensed two different presences: the black hound, always so close if felt as though she was part of you, and your husband, by the door.

“Papa Koschei!” Both Mark and Vasilisa yelled joyously, running to Jaehyun. As if the children weighted nothing, he picked them up on his sides.

God, he was going to make such a lovely father.

“I came in to check how your classes are going. Are you learning a lot?”

“Yes!” Vasilisa replied. “We’re learning to activate candles!”

“And earlier this week, miss Y/N taught us how to summon the light spirits!” Mark added.

“Wow, that’s huge!” Jaehyun praised, brown eyes glowing with content. “I bet you have an amazing teacher.”

“We do!” The kids hummed in unison before they were put down on the ground. Your husband approached you, placing a kiss on your lips. You kissed him back, a grin blooming where your mouths touched.

“Kids, you’re free to go,” you cooed without looking away.

“Any homework, miss?” Mark asked.

“Activate your candles and talk to your spiritual guides. Then tell me what you felt when you did it,” you instructed.

“Got it! Goodbye, miss! Goodbye, Papa Koschei!”

Soon, you and Jaehyun were alone in the temple. “Did I ever tell you…” he started, forming a trail of kisses from your hand to your arm, “that you look absolutely attractive when teaching?”

“In the past year I might have heard that enough to use it as a weapon,” you shamelessly admitted, palming his chest with the hand that was free. Slowly, said hand started slipping lower.

Jaehyun’s breath got caught in his throat, and he had to remind himself to inhale when your hand reached the volume between his legs.

“Your dick seems tight inside your pants,” you noted with a soft whisper. “Poor boy… Do you want relief?”

His fists clenched around the fabric of your skirt. “That’s the only thing in my mind.”

You smiled peacefully. “Just as I thought.”

Minutes later, you were on your knees with one of your hands at the base of his cock, while your mouth sucked him nice and long, as if in a display of how much of him you could swallow. Jaehyun held onto the table, moving his hips only slightly, his pupils wide at the perfect sight of your mouth taking him whole, lush lips brushing the entirety of his length.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect taking my dick like that,” he groaned, lost in your velvet tongue while trying his best to control his hips from going further. “Let me finish inside you, wife.”

That was a request you never felt like saying no, readily sitting at the edge of the table and removing your — ruined — panties. Jaehyun didn’t take long to spread your legs and bury himself in you, his moan making you tremble in awe as his fingers sank in the meat of your thighs.

You loved that position, how destined your bodies were in each deeper encounter, how Jaehyun’s breath caressed your throat, how his black hair lifted a little after you had brushed it back, a demanding hand on his nape as you kissed him hard, so hard your teeth hurt. It was the only type of violence and excitement you allowed yourself: being fucked with love and care, being filled up with seed that ran from your thighs to the floor, taking your husband’s every facade, whether he was Jaehyun or Koschei the Deathless.

You held the moment of your chests pressed together like it was made of glass, offering your husband an open smile after you were done.

He placed a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, still inside you even when the aftershocks had passed. It was Jaehyun’s favorite place to be. “Look at us, sinning in your temple,” he chuckled.

“I don’t believe in sins,” you retorted sweetly. “I believe in love.” It was not the first time Jaehyun heard you say those words, and he loved the sound of them a little more every time you pronounced them.

“Are you ready for dinner tonight?” he asked.

“To face all the Lords and Ladies you created when bored?” you teased like a cat. “To listen to their complaints on how dull their routines are now that I reign? To once again patiently listen to their proposal of creating a Lord of War?”

“Life is full of contradictions, wife,” Jaehyun cooed, studying your gaze. “My brothers and sisters seek nothing but to be faithful to their nature.”

“As I will be to mine, brother,” you made sure to add, clenching your muscles. Almost instantly, his girth hardened again.

This time, when he looked at you, Jaehyun’s eyes were frank, like life on a deathbed. “Do you understand, right, love? You are smart enough…” he breathed, rubbing his cheek softly against yours, the firmness of his hand on your jawline. “Nothing will ever be permanent. Life has always been about conflict. And you’re part of it now.”

You understood. It just didn’t mean that you agreed with it.

I’ll tell you just how it happened.

The Lord of Life and the Lady of Peace threw a dinner party to welcome all the Lords and Ladies, including me. I joined them at the main table, right next to the Lady, and I was proud at how much she had evolved, although I did not say a word. It has always been hard for me to display affection. I did not yet know words of affirmation tasted good on my tongue.

I anticipated something was going to happen, because of the look on Koschei’s face. Life was never permanent, it was never a thin line, and he knew it. But did his wife know? Did she understand after years used to power, after years maintaining the peace?

The hound was stolen during dinner by the Lord of Inconvenience, who fooled the animal with sweet gestures, as Jungwoo himself looked innocent and harmless, causing Papa Koschei’s death to fall into the embrace of a young Lord that only wished to mess up with order.

And once again, with Koschei’s death in the power of such a trickster, the immortal realms face the possibility of war. Not because people were fighting, not because soldiers were being recruited in the front lines at the mortal realms, but because life was a treacherous thing.

The Lady of Peace stood taller than everyone when John the Knight announced the robbery. She had something new with her. Something small, that I sensed too, because I loved her.

“I beg you, wife. Let it be,” Jaehyun whispered.

“Get off your knees.” You felt old, perhaps as old as Baba Yaga. A part of you was stolen, violently taken away from you. You loved the hound. You loved Jaehyun’s death as much as you loved his life, and it was your obligation to take care of both.

Jaehyun continued where he was. “Don’t chase the hound,” he insisted. “Don’t try solving things. Don’t bleed for my death. Jungwoo will keep it safe, I know he will. But war may come, and when it does I will build a shelter for you. I will keep you safe and sound. You will never go hungry. You will not suffer. You will not die. Let it be.”

“I refuse,” you replied hoarsely. Now, you had a choice.

“No one can refuse inconvenience.”

“I’ll face it with peace.”

“I wish you meant what you said,” Jaehyun held your gaze, like a needle piercing your heart. “But we both know you’re not peaceful now, wife.” His eyes were soft and welcoming; yours, dark and imperial. “I know,” Jaehyun murmured, romantic eyes slowly sliding from your face to your belly. “I know there is life inside you.”

You could have looked away, but you did not. Of course he knew. The Lord of Life would always be aware of his creations, even more if his child, flesh and bone, grew inside your womb.

“Get off your knees,” you repeated. “I am not a saint for you to kneel.”

As much as you were a saint to him, this time Jaehyun obeyed. He stood way taller than you, his shadow like a cape. At a blink of an eye, you were inside his embrace, inside his destiny, inside his deathless faith. “I love you, Y/N.” A confession so true, a love so genuine, a father speaking to the woman who bore his child. “I love you and I don’t mind where my death is as long as I have you.”

You chuckled dryly and without a drop of humor, ignoring the knot in your throat. “If anyone else but you had my death, would you be in peace?” You asked the most honest, the bloodiest question you were able to muster.

Jaehyun did not think twice before replying. “No.”

You nodded. Now he understood: it didn’t matter what Jaehyun thought Jungwoo would or wouldn’t do with his death. You wouldn’t rest until you had the hound back, because it was the only way to ensure the life of the man that you loved. The man that was, too, the father of your child. And a child deserved to have a full, complete family.

“I love you, Jaehyun,” you closed your eyes, two sister tears running down your cheeks, “and I will get your death back.”

You commanded the servants to prepare your horses. The trip to the realm of Jungwoo would take nearly a whole day, and you had no time to waste.

“Are you sure it’s a good time to ride, my love?” your husband hesitated.

“I am pregnant, not ill,” you spat. Those were exactly the words your grandmother said to the pregnant ladies who walked inside your childhood home, afraid anything they tried would result in losing their babies. You looked over at Jaehyun’s face, and the surprise in it made you quickly apologize. “I didn’t mean to sound that rough.”

“You’re right, though. I am just unused to your rage.”

“So am I,” you admitted. It felt as though something was horribly wrong with you, like a party dress destined for a fox. “When we arrive, let me speak. Don’t interrupt me.”

Jaehyun clenched an eyebrow at you.

“That’s new, isn’t it? Taking my orders,” you simply commented.

“I promised to do so years ago,” Jaehyun spoke just as ordinarily. “A husband is not to confine. A husband is to free. That’s what I said when we got married.”

You gazed at him stunningly, your chest warm where your heart beat.

“I am giving you choices, my Lady,” he continued. “Both because I love and believe you. And also because I am a fool, but I still have my judgment and priorities. Whatever your plan is, all I ask is for you to be careful. If you’re not, I will be. I would already burn the world down for you alone, but now you’re carrying my child. I’ll be as violent as I should.”

Even the conflict between the two of you tasted sweet now.

Jaehyun gave you his hand for you to jump on your horse. You traveled side by side, only stopping for water and a bit of shadow under an apple tree.

Jungwoo’s land was different from everything you had seen so far, filled with a huge diversity of expressions: museums, open antique fairs, circuses and amusement parks; theaters, brothels and taverns so full they seemed like anthills. Every inch of the floor was covered with wine, spit, piss and cum. Not even the weather could decide, as the hottest sun fought against windy storms, causing an enormous rainbow to light up the sky.

The Lord of Inconvenience was already waiting for your arrival, sitting on a throne in his manor, so loud and disorganized as his realm itself, with several crooked paintings on the walls, and a mix of patterns and colors that was too much for the eye. The hound sat by his side, her ears turning to the door when you were announced.

She ran to you immediately, long ears up, her tails wiggling and her wet, cold snout smelling your tummy.

“Brother, sister!” Jungwoo clapped excitedly. Whoever put their eyes on him would never say he was responsible for the trickiest of tricks: the lovely innocence on his face combined to his excellent manners could easily deceive anyone. “You’re twenty minutes late!” he whined.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Jaehyun politely stated, making Jungwoo laugh.

“I guess you’re here for your death,” he hummed, indicating the hound with his chin. “Well, there she is. She’s yours.”

You lifted your face, your white cape falling down your shoulders.

“The hound is here indeed, but the rest isn’t,” you observed. The duck, the egg and the needle were missing. You had spent too much time with the hound to know every inch of her.

Jungwoo’s eyes glimmered with adrenaline.

“I genuinely expected to fool you,” he pouted again. “Don’t take it personally, sister. It’s my nature.”

Years ago, you would have blamed him. But now, all you could do was to accept that life had its own ways of expression. Jaehyun had quite an imagination, and you loved him whole: the good and the bad creations equally.

“I can forgive you if you show me where the rest is,” you calmly argumented.

Jungwoo tapped his lower lip with his finger in thought, considering.

“But that would end the fun, wouldn’t it?” he relaxed back on his throne, patting the pad of his bare feet against the ground. “Ah, whatever, you might find out soon!” he leaned over again, putting his hand secretly at the side of his mouth. “It is with Yuta.”

“Yuta?” Jaehyun repeated.

You sensed the Lord of Death as he walked the manor’s hall, his straightforward presence spreading over the room like fire in the forest.

It made sense. Only Death would know how to separate the hound from the rest.

“I told you she was going to know, brother,” he said to Jungwoo. “Now, you owe me some of your citizens.”

Jungwoo rolled his eyes.

Gods.

“What do you want with Jaehyun’s death?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“War,” Yuta was as sincere as he could be. “You had your fair share of peace, and it was dull. Now it is time for some fun.”

“Fun?” you frowned. “Do you still think like that? I see you’re still selfish.”

“Oh, but I am not,” Yuta retorted. “I embrace the ones in pain. I serve glory for young women and men who are nothing, and die defending their countries. I provide a long, endless sleep for the ones who decide life isn’t worth it. I am not the bad guy, Y/N. In fact, we are pretty equal sometimes.”

You did not disagree.

Silence was made before Yuta spoke again. “I have a proposal for you, my Lady. Let’s share the world. Pick up the countries you want and make them peaceful before Life and I carve war their way, then restore the ones we have just ravished.”

“It is fair, sister,” Jungwoo agreed, even if his opinion was not required.

You only glared at them, looking less like a peacemaker and more like a pregnant woman with boiling hormones.

“Come on, that will even please your husband,” Yuta argumented. “Admit it, brother. You miss a good fight, don’t you?”

The sound of Jaehyun’s throat swallowing was like a low agreement.

“War is in my nature too,” Jaehyun admitted, turning his gaze to you, “but I am more than the Lord of Life now. I am her husband.”

I am as cruel and demanding as a god can be, but for you, and only you, I will be your faithful husband.

Both the Lords breathed in frustration. There was little your magic could do now, as nature was superior to influence, instincts spoke louder than wishing. You tried analyzing the options coldly: at every diplomatic suggestion your mind came with, there was a counterpoint.

You could not protect the world only. Now, you had to protect your child too.

“What if I tell you I can’t accept your offer?” you asked, chin firmly up. “What if I tell you to return Koschei’s death to me, and accept the way life is now? That I won’t surrender to tricks and violence?”

“Then,” Yuta breathed, “I will tell you that there are two lovely apprentices playing in the garden in Buyan. Two lovely old souls, trapped in children’s bodies, that I will love to bring to my realm.”

Oh, to be vulnerable.

It hurt so fucking much.

“If we share the world, I want Jaehyun’s death back,” you offered. The sacrifice of many instead of the sacrifice of the few you held dear in your heart.

It was the way of the world.

“Let’s share it. You’ll have the hen, and I will have the egg with the needle in it.”

“I want his death back entirely,” you made yourself clearer now.

Yuta blinked, impervious.

Jaehyun stepped forward. “Brother, my death is mine to give.”

“It is death, and death belongs to me.”

“As your life belongs to me,” Jaehyun hardened his tone. “We will fight again as you’d like, but my death shall not submit to you. I am deathless.”

Yuta, impatient, quick, and sudden, made his final requirement known: “I will give it back to you only if we can fight. Let’s start today.”

You boiled like water in a pan.

When you walked out of Jungwoo’s manor, you and Jaehyun looked at each other knowing a blank space was approaching, one that too quickly assaulted your way back home. The shadows of Death chased you to Buyan. Thankfully, you came back safe. Thankfully, Mark, Vasilisa were all alive when you did. Baba Yaga was already there.

“What will you call her?” the Lady of Luck asked.

“Who?” you breathed, with battlefield dust on your face. You were at the manor after a long battle that left you covered in smoke, and with slight cuts on your knuckles. Since it was Jaehyun’s turn to command the army, he stood to realign the strategy, and you came back to rest before you were needed again.

“Your daughter.”

Buyan’s night sky shone in brutal shades of red and gray, as it did when you first arrived. All wars had the same color, hysterical, uncontrollable and passionate. That did not change.

“How do you know it is a girl?”

“Papa Koschei has been lucky. He had always wanted a little girl.”

“It feels so wrong… Thinking about a baby name in the middle of the war.”

“Maybe you need some help sharing your attention between battling and being pregnant,” the old woman cooed. “Even Jaehyun is thinking more about your child than about war strategies.”

“That’s why we are losing,” you concluded, petting the hound’s head gently. Ever since you returned, she did not leave your side for a moment, twice as a protector now that you were pregnant. You even gave her a name. Ravan.

“Wars are not for winning or losing, child. They are for surviving.”

Whatever wars served for, Jaehyun and you were losing. The hiatus carved by your peace was now dirty with the blood Death was so thirsty for, and for the first time Yuta did not battle alone. Inconvenience, Revenge, Justice… They all faced Life with their teeth and nails, claiming the realms with the intemperance of the world’s setting. With Baba Yaga on your side, you were luckier, but luckier did not mean invincible. Mostly, it meant alive.

“Will it always be like that, granny?” you asked lowly. So low Baba Yaga almost didn’t hear you.

“It will.”

Your eyes weighed like a dozen ships when you closed them. Your mouth was so dry it hurt when you spoke. “I think… I think I am getting used to it.”

Naturally, you adapted, discovering how peace fit best in war. How the puzzles came together. You could not keep the soldiers from battling, and much less negotiate with the Lords — your husband included — that thrived as blood flooded the earth. But with you on the battlefields, death and despair felt easier. You soothed the helpless souls, numbing their minds, anesthetizing their bodies and closing their eyes as the limbs of Death cradled their destinies.

It was your fighting style. Meanwhile, the others used real weapons, they aimed and shot straight, in the endless battle between Life and Death.

“Your priorities are changing,” Baba Yaga noted cleverly. “I was young and revolutionary once. Then, I had kids. Then, I got old. Aging makes you smarter, child. You learn that you can not control everything.”

“Oh, there are many things I can’t control,” you chuckled bitterly, placing a hand on your belly. Your child had just started kicking, her moves excited and strong, filled with vitality. “I pity men, granny. I pity women. I mostly pity the children. All I wish is to offer them a little calmness.”

“No one blames you for that. Not even Death.” Baba Yaga got up and, at the rarest of occurrences, placed a motherly kiss on your forehead. “You fought bravely. Now it is your time to flow with the world’s contradictions. Help those you can, but feel more for you and less for others. She needs you, m’Lady.”

You took a breath so long your lungs wouldn’t fit it in, letting it go as if you were also allowing your shoulders to carry no weight at all.

When Baba Yaga turned to leave the room, you hummed. “Nina. We will call her Nina.”

“My opinion on war, my child?” Granny Isobel pulled the pipe away from her mouth. “That’s no good thing. No good thing,” she shook her head, face hidden by the quality of the thick, undeniable smoke. “But God, our Good Lord, allowed it. I am not saying that it is acceptable because God made it, but… But people like me can only help in a few ways. I welcome the hurt spirits. Sometimes they still feel the bullet in their eye, the lack of a leg or a thumb, and wonder where their friends are. I think it is no good, child. But there is nothing I can do, because my power is of another kind.”

When Jaehyun arrived at the manor, his armor was covered in black blood, his face dirty with dust, his knuckles raw from punching. By the marks of war he carried, and with how often you fought together, you guessed every punch, hit, cut and blow thrown his way, that he defended with his sword. He looked paler under all the mud, a deep tiredness imprinted in his features with the black holes under his eyes.

Without a word, you took him to your room, where you helped him out of the armor. The bathtub had water so hot in it the steam drew random curls in the air, but you did not complain, silently pressed to each other, praying for some magic that would remove the tiredness off of you.

The war was going badly. But when was it not?

“You’re doing so good, my love,” your husband managed to murmur, caressing your round belly with the same hands he used to strangle the shadows. “Bearing our child so well…”

“Just like she’s bearing me.” You rested the back of your head on his shoulder. “I think I get it now. Life is at its highest when it is the closest to death. You like the war, for it is where you feel more like yourself.”

Jaehyun could never lie to you. “I do. Don’t you now, too, just a little?”

You shook your head with a tired grin. “I feel needed. Necessary. I still prefer the calm and the quiet, though. I will fight for peace when my time comes again.”

“I will be right by your side when you do” he hummed in your ear, accepting and open. “I hope it takes a few years, though.”

“Inconvenience is a tough, irritating thing. We can’t have any hope.”

Jaehyun tasted the words in his mouth. His hands roamed on your stomach, down your navel. “What if we could?” He sounded like a new idea flourishing.

“It’s too early to give her an occupation,” you protested reasonably, reaching up to caress his face. “Let her choose, when she’s grown enough: Lady of Hope, of Faith, of Nothing… First, Nina will only be our baby.”

He agreed with a kiss on your shoulder. Taking her part into the conversation, Nina kicked right where his hand was.

“Ouch,” Jaehyun chuckled, enamored as he was whenever his daughter interacted with him, making her presence as loud as her will. “I already agreed with mama, you don’t have to kick me that hard…”

Savoring the moment, you nested closer to him. Through the window, the gust of wind carried the red aroma of blood and rain. “Jae, what did you do with your death?”

Already expecting your question, Jaehyun smiled. “I’ll show you where I hid it.”

I made this for you, wife. It is yours to run away whenever you want. I created this land from scratch. The Realm of Peace, where we can reside. Since I know you like company, I allowed others to come inside: children, florists, teachers, the butcher and his wife, and the servants — which we know are not servants only, but souls as complete as ours. You and I are the only ones who can allow them inside, but the final word is yours to give.

Open your eyes, look at it.

Do you like it, wife? The greenest sunflower fields, the deepest, shadowy forests that smell like oak and ambunara trees, the clouds dancing in the sky… What about the village? I made it just for you, colorful and thriving up the cobblestone streets, with temples, churches, libraries, bars and a playground for the children. It is safe and hidden, as you can see.

I keep my death here too, but it is not born yet. You understand, right, wife? Where I hid it.

You’re carrying her on your belly. Nina is my death now, because in both you and her, I feel the most alive.

I remain deathless because my death can only be reached here, and you’re the one with the key. A knife in my chest won’t kill me anywhere else. We are only vulnerable here, wife, where you crafted your peace, your nature.

I created your death, and Nina’s, and I hid them too. Here. Where no one else can reach us. Where even the cobblestones breathe peacefully.

617 notes · View notes