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venustired · 10 months

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FIND ME (INSIDE EVERY HEARTBEAT)

LEGEND 🖤Pairing · 📜Word Count · 🪐AU/Genre/Trope · 🚨 Warnings

🖤DILF!Lee Know x (afab) Reader 📜9.8k | Approx. 41-min read 🪐Exes to lovers, Angst with fluff frosting, Mutual Pining, Smut with a disgusting amount of feelings 🚨Reader discretion advised: A painful breakup, mentions of previous toxic behavior, body worshipping, breeding kink (Minho legitimately wishes to knock mc up and the feeling's mutual), praise kink (m), vaginal fingering, oral sex (m, f), unprotected sex, creampie. 💌Shoutout to @straywrds for throwing this idea at me and running away like everything's fine. 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

SYNOPSIS He loved you deliriously, but it wasn't enough to keep him from letting you go. Years later, you run into each other again.

He's a dad now.

This one-shot is a spinoff from the universe of 「THE ZONE」 — Events take place much later than Minho's arc (unreleased as of July '23).

“I’m fucking poisoning you, aren’t I?”

Cavalier. Presumptuous. High-and-mighty. Show-off. A trainwreck. A goddamn fucking know-it-all.

Lee Minho.

You had found him at his worst all those years ago like a little stray cat drenched in rain, hissing at everybody who dares to come close just to make itself look intimidating. He had lost a friend and he was hurting a lot, making his defenses taller than The Great Wall. Made of iron, impenetrable almost.

You had fallen in love with his full moon smile hidden under layers of midnight brokenness.

“Do not say such things!”

“You and I both know who you really should be with,” he spat, jaw and fists clenched in unison, “We should… we should just break up.”

Another outburst again. Minho was a man comprised of intense emotions. Pleasant delight to manic euphoria, tinge of arousal to fatal lust, mild irritation to unhinged fury at record speed. You loved how passionate he was, but it was indeed true that it was hurting you every once in a while.

But calling that poison?

“Please,” you begged him in tears, “Please don’t do this.”

He loved you deliriously, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from letting you go because he thought you belonged with someone else. Someone who had a decent command over his own emotions, someone who would make you mostly happy rather than half the time. They would at least be able to stay in your good graces when their pros trumped their cons.

Whereas Minho was in a vicious cycle of erasing all the rights he accumulated with a single colossal wrong.

“I know how much I’m hurting you. It’s who I am at this point. I can’t help it,” he averted his eyes from you, squeezing his eyes to push his tears back, “Just… Don’t make this any harder.”

“Minho, please… We can get through this together. We can—”

“It’s not your job to fix me!”

And just like that, he walked away. As if all those years you had spent together were just a dream. As if all the dreams you had did not exist. As if he had never called you his sun. It had caught on so much that you wouldn’t even call each other by your names; he would call you Sunny instead, and you would call him Moony.

Sun? What sun?

Light was a social construct, and it could go to fucking hell. Ever since Minho left, it was always new moon for you, and darkness was all you knew. Everything lost its color and turned into bleak monochrome shades.

And it was getting dimmer with each passing day.

You were going crazy. You talked to your friends about the same things over and over again. Nothing was consoling you. Nothing was able to splash a bit of cold water on the hellfire that broke out in your heart. The lilies you loved so much had died. It kept raining torrents. You cried and cried and cried over him until you ran out of tears to cry. You had never felt this helpless in your life.

Minho used to sing quiet lullabies for you in his arms.

You lost sleep.

Minho used to make grilled cheese sandwiches for you on Saturday mornings.

You lost your appetite.

Minho used to draw silly doodles on post-its and stick them all over the house so that you would laugh when you saw them.

You lost joy.

You bundled yourself in your cocoon of blankets for days on end, hoping it would pass. Sooner than later. Sooner than later. Sooner. Sooner. Please, I’m dying over here.

“It’s time, sweetheart. Come on, get up.”

You were so consumed in grief that you had lost all sense of reality. To this day, you were thankful to Hyejin for dragging you to a therapy appointment that day.

It still took a long-ass time, but you at least managed to reach a state of neutrality instead of violently breaking down when you heard the name Minho. The hellfire was put out, but the gentle sizzle of the everburning amber was still there. You had no choice but to come to terms with carrying that around for the rest of your life.

When it was time to reintegrate with the rest of the world again, you even entertained the thought of having someone in your life. You went on several dates. There were people you genuinely liked among them, too, but it always ended up the same.

“You’re still in love with your ex, aren’t you?”

Maybe. You were deluding yourself into thinking otherwise, but maybe… Even after all this time…

You couldn’t help it. Minho was your first true love, so naturally, the cut he left behind was the deepest of them all. He still popped into your mind every now and then, making you wonder how he was doing. Whether he was happy or not. Whether he was thinking about you.

Whether he was regretting his decision at all.

When you woke up that Saturday, you had a really bad craving for grilled cheese, but you realized were out of ingredients. If you left right away, maybe everything would be different, but you decided to leave after taking a shower that lasted twenty three minutes. When you left your apartment, you briefly returned because you forgot to take out the trash. The cab you took ran one red light on the way, and you debated whether you should go to the bookstore now or after you finished your shopping, eventually opting for later.

…all of which cumulatively contributed to the exact moment you thought you finally went insane in front of the dairy aisle.

“Sunny?”

A bolt of lightning struck in the exact spot you were standing when you heard that name rendered in that voice. You heard something erupt in the distance, and the tremors of a violent mushroom cloud destroyed everything into a pile of goddamn debris.

When you slowly turned your head to your right, you indeed saw the one thing you were dreading to see for so long holding bread slices and a block of cheddar in his hands.

“Minho.”

His equally shocked expression was slowly replaced by a smile, and once you saw those cheekbones raised again, you felt your heart thumping in your ears.

“I can’t believe it’s actually you. You look fantastic!” he threw the groceries into his shopping cart and approached you, “How have you been?”

Your heart ached. He looked as good as you remembered him. Even better actually with those waves in his hair. The dark circles under his eyes were long gone, and while happy was up for debate, he at least looked healthy.

“I’m doing better,” a vague smile appeared on your lips, “How have you been?”

“More or less the same neighborhood.”

Both of you were looking at each other, and there was something akin to an awe-filled silence between you. It wasn’t tense, but it was extremely intense. You were replaying every single memory of Minho in your head at x100 speed and wondering if he was doing the same. One wrong word could pop the oddly cozy bubble that immediately enveloped this moment, and you weren’t ready for it to end yet. You wanted to beg him like he used to when you tried to drag him out of bed.

Please, Sunny, just five more minutes!

“Are you in a hurry? Can we grab a cup of coffee right outside?”

You had managed to take one step forward after fighting all those demons. What if this was ten steps back? What if this small encounter was going to leave another unfillable void in your soul, and what if—?

“Of course,” you heard yourself say despite everything that was yelling at you inside your head. He smiled at you again.

It made you wanna throw yourself into the freezing cold ocean every time he smiled.

After completing your purchases, you made your way to the coffee shop in front of the bookstore, and Minho headed to the counter without even asking you what you would like. He returned with two large cups of dark roast americano, and you could smell the drop of caramel syrup in it. He still remembered how you took your coffee.

Your heart sizzled.

“Thank you,” you dragged the coffee towards yourself on the table for two, “You grew out your hair. It really suits you.”

“And you dyed yours. I really like the color.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask, but you didn’t even know where to start. Then something caught your attention as you kept playing with the lid of your cup.

“You got a tattoo, huh?”

“It’s Polaris,” Minho touched his left wrist, “It’s for my daughter. She’s my little star guiding me.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach so fast that you felt queasy. Did you… hear that correctly just now?

“You… you have a daughter,” you flashed him a terrorized smile.

It wasn’t a question, but it was. It wasn’t an interrogation, but it was. So he did find someone after you. Not only did he find them, but also… Also…

Did you do to her the same things you used to do to me? Did you also tell her you loved her endlessly? Was she able to touch you like I would? Did you miss me when you realized I beat her at that one good?

“Yeah!” he brought out his wallet and showed you a picture in it with a smile, “Her name is Nari.”

“N-Nari?”

It would have hurt less if he started torturing you right then and there. Lilies… He named his daughter after goddamn lilies. Mr. I’m-Poisoning-You had indeed gone ahead and found a toxin-immune terrain to breed.

Was this a fucking joke?!

“Oh wow, she’s the spitting image of you!”

“She’s great,” Minho looked at the picture fondly, “Being a father really changes you, you know. It puts things into perspective.”

Of course you knew. You had always known he would be a terrific father. A quirky one, for sure, but filled to the brim with love for his children.

“How about you? You got any kids?”

You couldn’t believe you were asked this question by Minho as if you didn’t plan to have two kids once upon a time. One boy and one girl, the best of both worlds. Preferably twins. He was going to annoy the shit out of you with your son, and you were going to retaliate with your daughter because that was, quote, ‘How she will learn to be a boss lady later in life’.

“No,” you flashed a broken smile at him.

The mood was getting considerably solemn. What were you expecting anyway? For him to not be over you? He was the one who wanted to walk away, so why the surprise? What kind of hope were you holding onto all this time?

Were you unknowingly holding onto some hope all this time?

“Uh… So what do you do?” you attempted to change the topic, “Did you make it as a dancer like you wanted?”

“I’m actually a chef now,” Minho leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms on his now broader chest, “If you’ve ever been to Four Seasons downtown, I’ve probably served you.”

“Whoa, isn’t that a Michelin restaurant?”

“Which I’m responsible for obtaining.”

“That’s fucking impressive!”

Neither of you touched that radioactive waste zone again until you reached the bottom of your coffees. Instead, you talked about stuff you would do at a college reunion. What happened after you graduated? Were you able to land a good job? Of course you were; your professors never shut up about how promising you were. Your boss, though? He could go fuck himself. The chef thing? While he was wondering Minho found himself in the cookbook aisle at this very bookstore one day, and it was all downhill from there. He had never thought about turning his hobbies into a career before and he should have done that sooner.

Both of you spent an entire hour like this. Pretending. Acting like you weren’t extremely shaken by the other’s presence, and in complete disbelief that this was the reality you were leading now.

“It was great to see you,” Minho spoke as you were leaving the place.

It was a disaster to see you, you wanted to yell at his face. I’ve been doing so fucking well up till now, and now I’m back to goddamn square one. Why did you have to fucking show up again?

“You too,�� you smiled at him instead.

When you least expected it, he reached for a hug and all of a sudden…

That familiar scent.

Sandalwood. Ocean. Salt. Sunscreen. Forest breeze. Pine trees. Passion. Love. Lust. All in the same whiff.

Minho.

The one that got away. Willingly.

Even after all this time, I still love you.

“I really hope this won’t be our only encounter,” he sheepishly smiled and took his phone out, “Do you mind if we—?”

“I don’t think so, Minho.”

His expression immediately fell. He was sulking. You hated it when he pouted. You just wanted to give him the entire universe so that he would smile again.

But this past hour had taken the life out of you.

“I’m sorry, I– I didn’t mean to assume,” he put his phone back and turned his eyes to the ground, “Of course. When you agreed to have coffee with me, I just thought…”

“It’s not that.”

You creased your brows trying to pick your words carefully. A part of you was still mad at him for what he put you through, but it wasn’t like you wanted to get back at him for it. You were trying to move on, and exchanging numbers and having him around was certainly not the way to do that.

You could never be friends with him again. Not when you knew what he tasted like because you knew for a fact that he tasted like your soulmate.

And you were forever doomed to be the fully functional half of a perfect whole without Minho.

“I almost died trying to get over you,” you finally met his gaze, “It was nice to catch up, yes, but you seem to have much more important priorities now.”

You reached out for his hand, and he watched you stroke his tattoo with your thumb.

“My daughter.”

“I’m very proud of you, you know,” you smiled genuinely for the first time, “I know it’s not unheard of for people to change, but I’m very glad to see you changed for the better.”

Minho opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he smiled at you again, albeit in a thousand pieces.

It made you wanna burn yourself alive every time he smiled like that. You instinctively pecked his cheek and hailed an approaching cab.

“Say hi to the missus for me,” you smiled at him as you got in and took out your earphones from your pockets, “Houston Drive, please.”

Only after the cab took off was Minho able to register what you just said.

“Wait!” he dropped his bags, “Sunny, please wait!!!”

Minho started running after the yellow vehicle gliding down the road like a yellow serpent but to no avail. He eventually slowed down to a halt, panting hard as he held his knees in complete fatigue. With his last remaining strength, he yelled after you as if you would be able to magically hear him.

“THERE IS NO MISSUS, SUNNY, PLEASE!”

“You’re fucking kidding me!”

“Nope. I’d rather gargle cyanide than bring him up in a conversation,” you talked into the speakerphone as you were tearing the lettuce in the kitchen, “Minho is a daddy now.”

“And who’s the bitch?”

“Jin…”

“I SAID WHO’S THE BITCH I JUST WANNA ACCIDENTALLY RUN INTO HIS WIFE SOMEWHERE WITH MY CAR!”

While Hyejin’s murderous intentions to avenge you were appreciated, you didn’t possess the knowledge that would satisfy her.

“I didn’t ask.”

“What do you mean you didn’t ask? Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?”

“I’m not about to spiral myself into a comparison olympics, sweetie.”

“Urgh, fucking Lee. Pops out of nowhere like a goddamn jack in a box after all this time,” Hyejin scoffed into her receiver, “If I ever see him, I will crack his ring finger!”

You initially laughed at her violent comments, but then… something hit you.

“Actually, he wasn’t wearing one.”

“A married man and is not wearing his wedding ring?”

“I mean… I assumed he was married.”

“Let me ask you something, Sunny,” she sarcastically emphasized, “Did you or did you not hear it from his mouth that he was married?”

You drew a total blank at her words. No, you hadn’t asked him that because why the fuck would you? Who would have wanted to know what would be their untimely demise?

“But he has a daughter.”

“That literally doesn’t answer my question,” Hyejin insisted, “Did he tell you he was married?”

“He– he didn’t.”

“WOMAN!!!”

You didn’t know what to make of her reaction. When you were still together with Minho, Hyejin was the number one fan of your relationship, but obviously, people had to choose sides after a breakup. She was always there for you through your darkest times, but now…

Was she insinuating what you thought she was insinuating?

“Here’s what we’re doing,” she continued, unbothered, “Next week, you’re getting into your classiest slut attire and we’re having dinner at Four Seasons for operation ‘This is what you missed out on motherfucker’. I’m making a reservation right now.”

“Hyejin, please!”

“I SAID WHAT I SAID. DON’T MAKE ME RUN YOU OVER, TOO!”

Then she hung up on your face.

Minho didn’t say it, yeah, but it didn’t necessarily mean that he was single, either.

But what if he was?

What if he was?

What if…?

“So what if he is?!” you threw your phone on the couch in exasperation.

On the D-Day, you took the longest shower of your life drowned in your thoughts, and started to get ready for your dinner plans as if you were going on a fucking date.

The possibility of seeing Minho again stirred something in you, no matter how much it was in a work context. If anything, you were nervous to be in his fascinating Michelin chef presence, quite possibly fucking shit up in the hottest way possible. Because that was what he was. Intense. No matter what he did. You didn’t even know how you would be able to see him considering… He had to be in the kitchen, no? It wasn’t like the man was serving people himself. Would you make up an excuse? Would you try to sneak into the back? Would you purposefully send your food back, or ask for the chef to come over so that you could pay him compliments in person?

Why did you agree to Hyejin’s plans again?

“Good evening. Did you have a reservation?”

You were there to have dinner, no? Basic human needs and whatnot. Then why did it feel like this man was questioning your entire life trying to decide whether you were worth being there or not?

“Yes. I believe it’s under Ahn Hyejin?”

He went through the gargantuan notebook he had in front of him, and once he confirmed the name, he made his way inside.

“This way, please.”

You thought he was going to lead you to a table in the middle of the people crowding that large hall, so naturally, you were befuddled as hell when he passed the restaurant area and guided you towards a more secluded place.

“I’m sorry, I think there’s a mistake. I’m supposed to be having dinner with my friend?”

“Yes, ma’am. Ms. Ahn has booked this VIP room for you.”

“For me?” you creased your brows in confusion, “As in she’s not coming?”

He finally slid a door open and gestured you to go in. There was a table for two inside in front of a window looking over a fantastic city view along with a lot of kitchen utensils. You walked towards one of the chairs and sat down.

“Enjoy your experience,” the maître d’ left you by yourself in that extravagantly luxurious room.

Confused out of your mind, you attacked your phone to call Hyejin to ask where the hell she was, but she wasn’t picking up. The one time you needed her the most…

“Dammit, Jin!”

She was the one who came up with this plan without telling you what the plan fucking entailed, so what in the fresh fuck was up with that indeed?

“Good evening.”

You heard the door slide open again. A person clad in jet black kitchen attire let themselves in and greeted you without looking at you. You could literally hear the fireworks or a nuclear bomb go off in the distance when you turned towards the source of that honey voice. The person’s expression, on the other hand, was in between being on the brink of crying and flashing the most genuine smile of their life.

Your heart melted into a puddle when you saw him.

“My name is Lee Minho. I’ll be your personal chef tonight.”

“You’ll— my— personal what?”

He had a very entertained smile on his face seeing how flustered you were.

“Well, isn’t that why you came here tonight? To dine?”

Was it??? The last time you checked, you were under the impression that you were going to have dinner with your best friend to throw shade at your ex. Not be in such an unnecessarily close proximity to him that you would question all your life choices that led to that moment.

“I– I don’t… Hyejin booked…”

“Ah, of course. The boss lady herself,” Minho slightly bowed at the name as a sign of respect and then licked his lips with absolute mischief shooting from his eyes, “So you did tell her about me, huh?”

“Why– why– why would I do that?”

“I find it a little hard to believe that she of all people would coincidentally request me. I know she put a bounty on my head back in the day,” he casually handed you a menu, “Would you like my recommendations or would you like to create your own menu for tonight?”

He was standing tall with an upright posture right next to you with his arms clasped behind his back, waiting on you like your personal bodyguard. You had noticed how he must been working out a couple of days back, but those bulging veins that traveled from his elbow down to his hands confirmed it for you.

Minho used to despise moving.

“I’d like to have so very much wine, please,” you handed the menu back to him while gulping. He chuckled in delight.

“As for the food?”

“Surprise me.”

His chuckle turned into gentle laughter for some reason.

“With pleasure,” he took the thick cardboard away from you.

Minho opened a very decent bottle of cabernet sauvignon first to accompany your appetizers, and then promptly got to work. You watched him create magic right before your eyes. The way he was executing his craft with such passion and enthusiasm felt like you were supposed to be paying to watch him cook. It was that satisfying, and he made it look so easy. Smooth wrist movements, a tight grip and flawless command over his knives, brows furrowed and lips slightly pouting due to concentration. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed when he finished your first course.

“Please enjoy,” he placed an incredibly fancy-looking black porcelain plate in front of you.

And when you took your first bite of the food…

“God—DAMN, Min, you used to struggle even with pasta. How the heck did this happen?!”

You knew you fucked it up royally when you met Minho’s gaze. As nervous as you were, the familiarity of having him around had tricked you, and the word just slipped from your lips. Min. The way he looked at you so longingly when he heard that name from you again… After all those years…

You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“Thank you. I appreciate it very much,” Minho broke into a very comforting and content smile sensing your internal struggle, “I’ll get started with your entrée.”

He proceeded to prepare your main course, and as he was busying himself with it, you suddenly blurted out with the courage you got from your wine.

“Why don’t you make it for two?”

“Are you expecting company?” he asked not looking away from his cutting board.

“I’d like you to join me.”

He finally met your gaze, and you saw the whirlwind of emotions stirring in them. Surprised, definitely. Undertones of happy. A tinge of excitement maybe. And then he smiled.

It made you wanna lock him in the tightest embrace every time he smiled.

“I can’t do that while I’m working,” he returned to his cooking, somewhat bashful.

“You can if a paying customer is asking you to,” you insisted, “Please.”

Please? Did you just say please?

Did you know how many years did he wait for you to say that in any context? Did you know how unequipped he was to say no to that request?

Without saying anything, he threw another marinated steak on the grill in front of him and added another portion of baby potatoes right next to it. Shortly after, he pulled two plates from the cabinet below him and decorated them exactly the same.

Minus the little demiglace sun he drew on your plate and a crescent moon on his.

After he placed the plates on the table, he grabbed a fishbowl wine glass for himself and poured a generous amount of burgundy courage into it as if he wanted to drown himself.

“To you,” he raised his glass.

You reciprocated. Your glasses kissed each other way more fearlessly than you two could coexist in the same room. If Minho cooked dinner for you in the privacy of his own kitchen, it would only be slightly more intimate than this.

You both ate in silence for some time. You savored every bite, every flavor he managed to squeeze into that plate. It might have been completely delusional of you to think this way, but for some reason, everything everything in front of you tasted so sweet just because Minho made it for you. Nothing in this world could be this concerningly delicious to make you think whether you were having your last meal or not.

“Minho, I’m going to ask you a question.”

To hell with it. The itch at the back of your brain was about to drive you crazy, so you just had to scratch it before you snapped and went on a fucking rampage.

“Yes?” he asked you with his brows raised.

“To be brutally honest, I’m kind of scared to hear the answer,” you put your fork down and stared at it, “Are you…?”

How to ask this? How to not pry but pry at the same time? How to make him think you didn’t have the ulterior motives that you absolutely had? What if he gave the wrong answer? Because there was a wrong answer here.

“You’re– you’re married, right? To Nari’s mother, I mean.”

“No.”

A total lack of pause. He answered your question so nonchalantly as if to say What the hell is wrong with you?

“Really?! I mean…” you immediately cleared your throat, “I mean, are you– are you divorced, or…?”

“We never got married.”

What the hell was that feeling of relief spreading throughout your chest at a concerning speed?

“Why not?”

“Because we were never together to begin with,” Minho took a sip from his wine, “Nari wasn’t exactly born out of love.”

The clouds passing by his beautiful face… They were a distinct type of nimbus. Quite dark. Charged with lethal bolts of lightning. If they rained, they would sure as fuck create disastrous floods after them.

“Her mother and I… Let’s just say our relationship lasted for less than an hour under a lot of haze,” he started drawing circles on the rim of his glass, “There was a time in my life when I turned to less-than-ideal means to…”

Then he pierced a hole in your soul with his eyes.

“To try and forget you.”

Once upon a time, you knew a man. He wasn’t aware he had pirated his entire personality from someone else, and he would do anything to get his way. Anything. Even say things that would mean so much to an average person with zero restlessness on his conscience because he didn’t have one. He just didn’t give a fuck who he was hurting as long as he got what he wanted.

Years later, that very same man was sitting right in front of you, holding his heart between his hands openly and giving you a free pass to crush it into mere dust if you wished. The amount of vulnerability in his voice… He knew he deserved it. He knew he deserved the worst of it.

“I’m not proud of it, but I’m taking responsibility. She was the one who wanted to keep the baby, but she is nowhere to be found most of the time. So I filed for full custody.”

“You’re– you’re raising her on your own?”

“Yes,” he smiled and then switched to his playfully cocky mode you were a bit too familiar with, “I mean Rose helps us a lot of course, but I’m not about the give her all the credit. I’m indeed a superdad to my baby.”

You involuntarily chuckled. Why of course, even in the form of a joke he just had to compliment himself because that was Lee Minho for you.

“How old is she now?”

“She’s four.”

If someone had told you that years later you would be listening to this beautiful disaster with Everest-level cockiness talk about his baby girl fondly, you would die laughing.

Minho wriggled in his seat and cleared his throat, then spoke without looking at you.

“Well… Are– are you…?”

“Am I what?” you reached for your glass.

“You know,” he dragged his finger down the stem of his glass as if that was the most important task at hand, “Have someone. In your life.”

He seemed almost scared to look at you, but eventually mustered his strength to face his fate. You dragged on the silence for as long as you could handle and shook your head no. Not only was there massive relief on his face, but Minho also let out a very deep breath that accompanied his blooming smile.

“Sunny.”

The tone of his voice changed all of a sudden. Serious. Determined. He reached for your hand over the table and fearlessly looked deep into your eyes as he talked this time.

“I’ve never stopped having feelings for you. Never.”

His skin on yours once again. Hesitant but oh so soothing. Asking to come home.

All your senses were extremely heightened somehow.

“I thought I was doing what I believed was the best for you, but I hit rock bottom. I lived my life as a walking corpse after I let you go, but you know why I’m glad Nari exists?”

Every time he talked about his baby girl, all his razor-sharp features softened, and the amount of compassion he had for her was simply bursting out of him.

“She turned me into a man that I always wanted to become for you. She is teaching me about patience. She is teaching me about unconditional love,” Minho swallowed a sob to push it way down, “And she reminds me so much of you.”

This right there was how cruel life was. You both had to be dragged through hell and back in your own ways to become the people you were at that very moment. Nothing had gone according to the plan, but then it made you think.

So what if it hadn’t?

Would that necessarily be the better option? What if you and Minho stayed together to the point of resenting each other so badly that you couldn’t stand the idea of sharing a life anymore? So what if it wasn’t you two that were supposed to change each other for the better? At the end of the day, Minho was a household chef and a devoted father who seemed much more level-headed, and you were a successful editor-slash-writer who refused to put anyone else right at the center of your life anymore.

All things considered, did that really turn out so bad?

All things considered, could you give him another chance?

All things considered, would you be able to find it in your heart to forgive him?

“You’ve always been my Moony, Min,” you smiled at him through the tears threatening to fall, “And always will be.”

His smile, on the other hand, grew so devastatingly big that you were almost blinded.

“I was thinking, after I’m done here would you like to—?”

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

“DO YOU MIND, GENE?”

The poor maître d’ was just doing his job, but Minho got so annoyed to be interrupted at the best part that he couldn’t help the volume of his voice and startled both of you.

“I sincerely apologize,” he judged the crap out of Minho solely with his eyes and put a little envelope in front of you, “Ms. Ahn extends her regards.”

When you opened it, you saw that it contained two keycards in it for room 1116.

“Well, Gene, Ms. Ahn is indeed here, isn’t she?” you closed the envelope and shot him a knowing look, “I promise I’m not going to do anything. I just want to know.”

The tall man in his crisp brand-name suit got flustered out of his mind but felt obliged to provide you with an answer anyway.

“We’ve been strictly instructed to monitor your mood and let her know if you were in distress, ma’am.”

“Thank you very much. While I don’t appreciate the CCTV treatment, please tell her I’m really enjoying myself.”

As the man apologetically bowed and made himself scarce, you removed one of the keycards from the envelope and slid it towards Minho.

“Here’s your tip, Chef Lee,” you spoke with the softest but infinitely seductive tone, “Why don’t you pick up a bottle of your most expensive champagne and meet me upstairs?”

Without giving him a chance to speak, you got up to your feet. Minho’s eyes followed your every move and his jaw dropped when you came that close to him and leaned in.

“You remember how we used to not let each other sleep, right Min?” you placed a little kiss on the mole on his nose and left him there to marinate in his feelings for a while.

You thought he would take a while to arrive, but shortly after you entered the room, you heard a knock on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Why didn’t you just let yourself in?” you looked at him in surprise.

“I uh– I wanted to make sure you actually want this,” he scratched his neck, “Maybe you’re having second thoughts, or maybe y—”

You shut him up by kissing him, and his eyes immediately closed. His lips in yours again… So soft. Occupied the space in your mouth just right. Burned you with the amount of desire they were coated in.

Some things had changed, yes, but some things were never going to change.

He still tasted the same.

“Does that answer your question?”

When you looked at him like that and dragged your fingers down his cheek, Minho lost his remaining sanity and devoured your lips. You pulled him in from the collar of his uniform as he shut the door behind him with his foot. Your hands were all over each other wanting to touch everything at the same time. You guided his hand between your legs to show him how wet you were already, eliciting a deliciously loud groan from him.

“You fucking know how weak I am for you, so you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” he spoke into your mouth, “Keep this up and someone’s getting knocked up tonight.”

“Then fucking put your money where your mouth is. I dare you to breed me.”

“I hope your birth control fails.”

“I hope your condom breaks.”

“Joke’s on you. I don’t have one on me.”

You pulled him in for another fiery kiss, but when you attempted to take off his top, he stopped you.

“No, no, no, baby, I need to shower first.”

You shuddered when you suddenly heard the address he used to have for you. Minho also realized what he just called you and examined your face intently to determine the level of his fuck up.

“I’m– I’m so sorry. Force of habit.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him contrary to his expectations, “More than fine actually.”

“I promise I’ll be back in five minutes. Time me.”

You giggled as he grabbed a towel and bolted to the shower. When he reemerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet locks sticking to his face, he still had forty-three seconds to spare, and you almost lost your whole entire shit when you saw him half-naked after all this time.

Minho had always been gorgeous, but now in addition to that, the man had become totally ripped.

“Now where were we?” he sat right next to you and attempted to kiss you again.

“Nuh-uh,” you stopped him in panic as if you weren’t on the brink of jumping him yourself, “You did kill the mood. You gotta work me up again.”

“Again,” he echoed you, “So I did work you up before.”

Even when he knew what he was doing to you, Minho would always try to coax you into saying it out loud. Give him attention, tell him how pretty he was, praise his oral skills, moan his name when you were cumming… He lived for that shit.

But once his lips touched your skin again, there were no remains of the playfully brazen guy anymore. It was like he was trying to tell you something without actually saying it.

“Did you miss me, too, Sunny?” he kissed the corner of your lips and started moving downwards, “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

His hands were all over you, albeit moving very unhurriedly. He was inhaling you a lot as if he had been to war and was down bad with homesickness.

“Say yes,” he spoke into your neck while pulling the straps of your dress down, “Even if you didn’t, please say yes.”

“But yes,” you affirmed and kept repeating it like a mantra to him, “Yes, I missed you to death. Yes. Yes.”

No amount of shampoo or shower gel could hide his sandalwood scent from you. You were getting lost in him just like you always did as if you didn’t spend any time apart. Minho stopped for a moment and looked at your face while stroking your cheeks, eyes beaming with adoration.

“You have another tattoo?” you touched his right shoulder, “Don’t tell me that’s for your daughter, too, because this looks depressing.”

It was a completely blackened sun as if it was in an eclipse. His expression turned serious all of a sudden.

“It’s for you actually.”

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach.

“You were my sun. You still are. I already felt like I had completely eclipsed you, but when we broke up, my entire world darkened,” he caressed your hair, “It’s a little brighter now thanks to my little girl, but it’s… It’s not the same.”

You were suddenly overcome with so many emotions that you found yourself on the brink of crying. Minho’s eyes. Minho’s lips. Minho’s love. Minho. Minho. Minho.

“Love me,” your voice quivered, “You owe me years’ worth of touches. Just love me.”

“Shh, it’s okay now,” he kissed your hands and laid you down, “I’m right here.”

You let him pacify you with his touches as he stripped you fully. He caressed every inch of your body softly and marked every piece of skin he uncharted with a little kiss. As if he was discovering you afresh.

“Hate me all you want. I deserve it,” he pulled himself up to your eye level again, “Just let me kiss it all better. However long it takes.”

Then he proceeded to place his wet ‘days of the week’ kisses that you had missed so so so much.

“Monday.”

Your lips.

“Tuesday.”

Your neck.

“Wednesday and Thursday.”

Your breasts.

“Friday.”

Your tummy.

“Saturday.”

Your thighs.

“And Sunday.”

Your clit.

“You remember how we used to party on the weekends, right Sunny?”

You inadvertently let out a giggle seeing him smirk at you that mischievously.

“Let’s see if I remember it correctly,” Minho got comfortable between your legs, “This spot is for sucking.”

He wrapped his plush lips around your clit and sucked on it with a barely there pressure just to tease you. He knew it would never be enough even if he kept this up for hours.

“This spot is for kissing.”

He moved right under your clit and kept placing feathery kisses on the area. He was slowly pushing you towards the very edge of impatience and he loved the way you kept flinching under him.

“And this spot is for licking.”

Then he slithered down to your oozing entrance and started to lick into you with intermittent kisses. Just like on the nights you made up after a huge fight.

“Ah, Min…”

“Call me your baby again,” he spoke quietly into your pussy but you could feel his words inside you, “Call me baby like you used to.”

His way of passionately apologizing to you over and over again. He was drawing little suns and crescent moons on your pussy with his tongue, hoping you would recognize them. Hoping you would accept them as tokens of how sorry he was.

“Fucking god, your taste,” he contorted his face in absolute delight, “You taste better than the rarest delicacies, Sunny.”

He put your hands on his head for you to guide him, wrapped his hands around your thighs, and started a heavy makeout session with your cunt. The feeling was so intense that your eyes rolled back.

“I’ve kicked several addictions so far, but this? I’m never getting sober,” he wiped his chin smeared with your arousal and sucked on his finger, “I’m addicted to you. Down bad. Always have been.”

He gently slipped two fingers inside and started massaging that spot right behind your clit. Your moans were slowly transforming from quiet little staccatos to dragged-out sounds of pleasure as if you were belting a note.

“Better, right?”

“Much better,” you tugged on his moist locks, “God, you’re fucking amazing with those fingers, baby. You’re… You’re so… Oh, fuck!”

Minho was never able to control how he reacted to you whenever you praised him in bed for any reason. He was in dire withdrawal as it was as it had been such a long time since you showered him with compliments. You might have said one word, but it still automatically awakened Minho’s beast mode because if there was one thing he loved more than anything, it was competing with himself. In any capacity. His fingering got a little faster, and he alternated between sucking and licking long drags on your pussy until you came all over his fingers. He licked them clean and crawled on top of you to kiss you with his cum-stained lips.

Once you gathered your wits again, you laid Minho down and hovered over him. You kissed him with the very same days of the week. His scars. His tattoos. Like you were accepting his apologies. Like you were accepting him for who he was. He kept wincing under you in pleasure and tried to catch a glimpse of your face as you made your way down.

“You remember how we used to fuck for hours on Sunday mornings, right Min?”

You worshipped his abdomen just the way he liked it, touching and placing wet kisses all over. His large hands were caressing your hair as he watched you with his head tilted, dying of anticipation of the moment your lips would finally meet where he needed you the most. Minho loved the prelude, always had, and his breathing was much faster already.

“Should I go further down?” you teased him by kissing his crotch, “Should I?”

“Don’t make me beg!”

You would, but maybe some other time. You took his flushed cock in your mouth and started blowing him as slowly as possible. Deep. To taste his essence rather than pleasure him. All of a sudden, it felt like he was never gone, and this was just another night in your bed you were spending together until the faint blue lights of daybreak told you to stop fucking and go to sleep.

Even after all this time, I still love you.

Minho didn’t rush you. He was so scared you would come to your senses and leave him all alone for good that he couldn’t even move.

He wasn’t about to mess it all up again.

“I’m right here”, you held his hands to reassure him, “I’m right here, Min. I’m not going anywhere.”

Once you said that, all the muscles he was unknowingly clenching loosened and he relaxed into the pillow, completely letting go and just relishing the feeling of you around him. He was getting dangerously close to his release, but that wasn’t a part of his plan.

“Don’t!” he stopped you when you started choking on him, “Don’t make me cum. Not yet.”

When you let go of his cock with a loud pop, Minho immediately sat up and pulled you in for a deep kiss. His tongue still tasted like you in your mouth.

“Beg, baby,” you scratched right under his chin, “Beg to fuck me. Beg for me.”

“Let me make it up to you,” he brushed your hair away from your face, “Let me show you why I’m your other half. Why we belong together. Please.”

“What if I say no?”

“Please, baby,” Minho pleaded with his lips on your neck again, “Let me fuck you. Let me fuck you deep. Let me fly us both. Let me drive both of us crazy right here right now. You know I can.”

If Minho’s weakness were your praises, then yours was his relentless begging. You were ready to spread your legs for him four sentences ago, but what fun would it be if he didn’t turn into an utterly desperate lover so eager to please? You placed your hands around his neck and harshly pulled him down with you, signaling him you were ready.

“Oh fuck, you still feel like heaven inside,” Minho took deep breaths as he carefully settled inside you, “You still fit around me so snugly.”

How full he made you feel inside every single time was insane. No matter how much he stretched you, no matter how wet you were for him, it didn’t matter. The second he started moving inside you, that feeling was so intense that your eyes rolled back with a loud moan.

“You still react the same to me, Sunny,” he chewed on his lips and picked up his pace just a measure, “Does it still feel as good, baby? Do you like the pressure?”

You slammed your hands on his hips and groped him for how overwhelmed you were with pleasure.

“God, it feels much better than I remember!”

“Wrap your legs around me. Let me go deeper.”

When you did as he said, Minho was able to angle himself properly to reach a critical spot inside you.

“Fuck, that’s deep!”

“I know how my girl likes it. I know all your hotspots,” he maniacally smiled, “I know how exactly you like to cum like the back of my hand.”

“Getting cocky there a bit?”

“Tell me if this rings a bell,” he continued to fuck you deep but now with slower thrusts, “Folds teased until you’re rabid. Pussy fingered and clit sucked until it’s numb in my mouth. Breasts fondled. Thighs kissed. Legs massaged with my cum as your aromatherapy oils.”

You involuntarily groaned at how fucking brazen he was being with you. Minho grabbed both of your hands and pinned them right above your head.

“Then it’s my turn, and I fucking drill you into this mattress like my personal pornstar, and you take it like the good girl you are. Sound familiar?” he started moving with sharper, more precise thrusts, “Do you deny any of this? Do you deny that I know how to fuck you just right?”

“Min, please!”

“I’m made for you, baby. Don’t you ever forget it,” he unleashed himself on your lips like a starving predator.

All that filled that dark room for a while was both your muffled moans melting into each other as well as the obscene sounds of skin against skin and lewd squelches coming from sopping wet cunt.

“Listen to you. Fucking dripping,” Minho sharply hissed, “Go ahead baby, you can soak me more. Don’t be shy.”

“Fucking– Just– Fuck, you’re– How d– oh my GOD!”

“Aww, I know baby, I know,” he placed an unnecessarily chaste kiss on your forehead, “Getting fucked by your man so good you can’t even talk properly. Am I doing that good of a job pleasuring you?”

“You’re doing perfect, baby.”

“Am I still your good boy, Sunny?”

“Keep talking like that and I’m gonna fucking sink my teeth into you!”

“I dare you to bite me.”

You could try to wriggle away all you wanted but Minho’s grip on you was like a deadbolt. You weren’t able to move an inch. He slowed way down and watched the way he disappeared into you while biting his lips so hard they were about to bleed.

“See? See how it slides right in? I turn you on so bad you can’t help getting wetter,” he shoved a couple of fingers inside your mouth to suck on, “Night after night, I dreamed of this. You. Getting so fucking wet around me that I have no choice but to cum.”

You weren’t able to talk anymore, but what you really wanted to do didn’t require any words anyway. You swirled your tongue around his fingers and looked at him so desperately that there was no way he wasn’t going to react to this.

“Don’t look at me like that with those begging eyes, or I swear to god I’ll breed the shit out of you,” he landed a light smack on your thigh and took his fingers out, “And you best believe it’s going to hold. Your walls are so swollen already.”

“All talk no play. You’d fucking better finish inside,” you rattled him, “My pussy’s too pretty not to be eaten or creampied, and that’s a fact.”

“Yes, it is. It fucking is. It deserves to be creampied first and then eaten,” he threw his head back in absolute ecstasy, “And you already know I swallow.”

Minho channeled all his focus on that particular spot inside you that you liked so much. The curvature of his cock was aligned just right to end you.

“Now let me hit that exactly the way you like it.”

He buried himself into you to the hilt. Once he bottomed out, he pushed a little more forward and started hitting that spot hard in a staccato rhythm like a pulse, never once pulling back.

“Oh, FUCK YOU!”

“Right there, isn’t it? You love getting this spot fucked,” he was more than satisfied watching what he was able to do to you, “God, you’re literally ascending.”

It was only at that moment did Minho realize one of the closet doors to the left side of him was plated with a mirror. Once he caught a glimpse of the two of you in the frame, he throbbed hard inside you.

“Oh, jesus fucking christ!” he turned your attention to the same destination, “Nobody can ever do it like us, baby. Look how fucking hot we are.”

Minho being his otherworldly sexy self, fucking the life out of you like there was no tomorrow was already enough to blow your mind, but when you actually saw yourself getting fucked…

You could literally feel yourself excessively oozing.

“Soaking the sheets, huh?” he contently chuckled at the trail you were leaving under you, “Time for my girl to give it to me good, then.”

He swiped his thumb on his tongue and started going to work on your clit. While you thought the level of eroticism was going to end you, it suddenly became…

Something else.

“I belong right here, Sunny. Don’t ever leave me without you,” he started going harder, “I’m begging you. Please.”

You held him by his waist and pulled him for a kiss with your arms around his neck. You were both clearly so overwhelmed by your emotions. It was never just lust with Minho. Every time you fucked, it felt like a reaffirmation, a renewal of promises between you. You had badly broken and bruised each other once upon a time but at the end of the day…

“It’s you,” he spoke into his mouth breathlessly, “It’s always been you. You own my heart, Min.”

If you kept talking, he was for sure going to be moved to tears. Minho suddenly stopped and rested his back against the headboard, promptly making you straddle him to pick up where he left off.

“I’ve always loved you, Sunny. I always will,” he rolled his hips into you, “Tell me you love me, baby.”

“Even after all this time,” you moved away the locks of his hair covering his eyes, “I still love you, Min. I love you to the moon and back.”

To the moon and back.

To the moon.

Your Moony.

Minho finally lost all control and started fucking into you so fervently that it was impossible for you to endure that pressure.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, baby.”

“I love you, Min.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m about to cum!”

He gently pushed your chest back to make room for his thumb and started rubbing you frantically. The second you contracted hard around him with that high-pitched moan, Minho let go and came really fucking hard as if he was having a spasm. He came so much and it was so wet between your legs that you didn’t know which of those drops belonged to you and which ones belonged to him.

“Don’t pull out,” you grabbed him by his nape and pulled him closer, “Deeper. Fuck your cum deeper into me.”

“You’re driving me clinically insane,” Minho bit into your lips, and then promptly kissed them along with your cheeks and your forehead, “Just like we always wanted, huh? The best of both worlds.”

You rode out your high in that utter state of bliss and collapsed on top of him, but even in his fucked out state, Minho clung to you like a koala bear. He kissed your shoulders and your neck, wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you into his embrace.

“I did miss you so much,” you started playing with his hair once you both calmed down, “But there are some realities we need to talk about.”

“You mean Nari.”

“Yes,” you averted your eyes avert from him, “I can’t just appear in her life just to disappear again, Min.”

“But who says you need to—?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you interrupted him, “I don’t even know if she would like me.”

“Well, considering she’s growing up with the fairytales I tell her about Sunny the Princess, I think she wouldn’t mind seeing her in the flesh, but I digress.”

“You what?!”

He let out a loud cackle at your reaction and kissed your lips.

“I know the situation is not what we thought it would be, but Nari could be our child, baby. We can give her a baby brother, too,” he pressed your hands on his chest, “I’m ready for this. If you’re also willing, just say the word, and we can have our happily ever after.”

A happily ever after. With Minho. Maybe the means of getting there didn’t really matter after all as long as you got to have it. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a decision about two people’s lives anymore.

“This seems too big of a decision to make overnight.”

“Then tell you what, how about we ease into it?” Minho propped up on his left elbow, “I take you out on a few dates, we fuck on the third date, and if you see a promise by then, you meet her by the tenth date. How does that sound?”

“Damn, tenth?!” you widened your eyes in shock as if Minho just insulted your entire ancestry, “I have to wait that long?”

“She’s hard to get. You can’t just appear in her life just to disappear again.”

You landed a light smack on his arm for mimicking you, but the picture he painted for you was more than fair.

“That sounds lovely.”

You kissed him to your heart’s content to avenge all that time you spent apart. With his eyes closed, Minho’s hands never left your skin as if to make sure that you were indeed real and right next to him, and this wasn’t one of those dreams again.

“I love you, Sunny,” he glided his fingers down your cheek, “You complete me.”

“Even after all this time?”

He flashed a smile so endearing you almost melted into a puddle right then and there.

“Always.”

He wanted to punctuate that moment with a kiss at the expense of getting your lips painfully swollen, but the deeper he kissed you, the more something was awakening in him again. Before you knew it, his hands were slithering down your back and groping your hips.

“Already?” you looked at him all surprised.

“You have no idea about the drought I was in for years, so yes, already,” Minho pulled you under him and trapped you under his frame, “If you fall asleep, I’m fucking you awake tonight.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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