Vengeance (c.hs)
Vengeance (c.hs)
Pairing: Vernon x f. reader
Summary: You always knew you were different from a young age. The only person who has ever been able to understand you is Vernon. When things take a turn for the Choi Syndicate, your long-term relationship is put to the test.
Full Fic Word Count: 21,528
Genre: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers
Type: Smut, Heavy Angst
Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
Warnings: Because of the nature of this fic, I have placed them under the cut. Please read them carefully before engaging with this fic.
A/N: This fic is a part of my Syndicates Collection. This will the second installment under the Syndicate Universe, but you can always read this fic on its own. I hope everyone enjoys Vernon’s story as much as they enjoyed Hoshi’s!
A/2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for being an amazing beta reader. I love you to the moon.
Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Ask | Playlist
Warnings: Because I am trying to overwarn due to subject matter, please read these carefully! General violence associated with criminal empires and criminal underground, mentions of murder and depictions of murder, depictions of punishment from parent to child, depictions of attempted murder (reader’s mother to reader via drowning, vernon’s father to vernon via choking), themes of religious trauma, themes of dealing with a parent that experiences undisclosed/ambiguous religious psychosis, mentions of dealing with a parent who is fighting addiction, kids arguing and getting into a fight (it’s honestly kind of funny, not violent at all), depiction of patricide (cool motive, still murder), heavy internal angst for reader/repressed feelings, grieving the loss of a loved one, explicit language, references to drugs and recreational alcohol use, Vernon does drive a motorcycle after drinking - it is implied he’s using a stimulant to combat that, some puppy love scenes/vernon and reader making out and being teenagers, brief interrogation scene where reader/Soonyoung are harming someone (stepping on their fingers) for information, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) mild ass play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, implied breath play, reader experience something adjacent to subspace post-sex.
God doesn’t like strange girls.
Well, you don’t know what makes you strange and you’re not entirely sure you believe in God. You’re only eight, and even though your mother prays to Him with a reverence reserved only for him, on her knees until they’re bleeding, her body shaking with exhaustion, you don’t think you want to believe in God.
God is the only man your mother loves. For you, it’s your father. You can’t understand how your mother can pledge herself so wholly to someone she can’t see, someone who doesn’t seem to do much for her.
Your father is tangible and real, and he does everything for you. He takes you to school in the mornings, he brushes your hair, he buys you the books you need for class, he protects you from her, when she is screaming that you need to purge your sin for Him, that you should prostrate for Him, that dirty nails offend Him.
Uncooked grains of rice bite into your knees. You try to maintain your balance, not wanting to shift on them any more than you have to. Every time you wobble or try to adjust to lessen the pain, it only gets worse.
Behind you, your mother’s voice comes out in staccato, her murmurs feverish: No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it.
The sin this time were the honey cakes the neighbor brought over for your birthday. They were perfectly golden, flaky and brown on the edges and moist on the inside, filling your mouth with sweet, honey flavor. They’d left your fingers a little sticky, the corner of your mouth a little flaky.
You’d only eaten two of them when your mother discovered you in the living room, shrieking when she saw you indulging. Coveting. Full of gluttony.
Licking your lips, you shift on the grains of ride. It stings, making your eyes water. Your shoulders ache, neck tight where you hold your hands behind your back. Time moves inexorably as you kneel there, the prayers for your mother’s God washing over you as you pay penance for a sin you don’t understand.
When the front door opens, you nearly weep with relief. Salvation is here, and it isn’t in the form of God shepparading his followers into heaven. Relief comes in the form of your father storming toward where you kneel, picking you up off the ground and asking your mother what she’s doing.
Deliverance comes when he gently wipes the grains of rice from your knees while you sit on the bathroom counter. He rubs a rag softly over the dimpled skin, wiping away a little bit of blood where the grains cut through the flesh. He applies a salve and presses a kiss to your head, apologizing.
“Do you want to open your gifts, Angel?” You nod eagerly, forgetting all about the honey cakes that your mother threw out or the pain in your knees.
Your mother sleeps in the bedroom, muttering feverishly. You and your father creep out to the kitchen where he lets you open the boxes in the privacy of four walls. He leans against the counter as you tear open the crinkling wrapping paper, liking the way it feels beneath your fingers, the way it crackles, like it’s telling you a secret.
Popping the lid to the box, you reveal a beautiful gold necklace. The chain is thin but feels strong. It’s long and on the end, there’s a flattened coin charm with a figure of an angel etched into the face. You rub your thumb on it, mouth opening and grinning.
“Do you like it?” Your dad asks. You nod your head early and he laughs. “Here, let me put it on.”
You hand it over to him and he loops the necklace around your neck, fastening the necklace. When he pulls away, his grin is bright as the sun. “An angel for my Angel. As long as you have it on, I’ll always be with you and it will protect you.”
Your mother has her God, but you have yours. And you’re his messenger, his follower, his angel.
-
“You are a demon!” Your mother shrieks, her voice raw and cracking. You ignore her as she leaps at you, slamming the door shut and holding it hard. She twists the knob but you hold fast, pulling your weight against the door so she can’t open it. “Demon! Demon! Scourge of the earth! You are the darkness! God will prevail against you! He will rise up in his righteousness-”
“Is this bathroom taken?”
Looking over your shoulder, you see a boy around your age looking at you. He’s standing a few feet away down the hall, fingers twisting together nervously as he looks at you and then the rattling door. He’s pretty, with soft brown hair that hangs in his dark eyes. His face is round and his cheeks are flushed pink from hiking up the stairs.
“Um,” you look at the door as the pounding subsides, followed by wailing. “Yeah, you can’t come in here. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know where there’s another bathroom?”
You shake your head. “I don’t live here. It’s Daddy’s friend's house.”
“Your dad is friends with the Tower too?”
You nod and he smiles. “Me too. I’m Hansol, but everyone calls me Vernon. Only my mom calls me Hansol ‘cause I love her.”
You give him your name and pause before adding, “My dad calls me Angel.”
Vernon grins. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
He glances at the door. “Do you need help? I can keep you company.”
You blush. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, Vernon.”
Vernon toes the ground for a second, the tip of his shoe creasing the carpet. He tucks his hands in his pocket and chews on his lip before he bows a little and says, “Well I’m going to find another bathroom. It was nice to meet you, Angel.”
“You too, Vernon.”
When he walks back down the stairs, he pauses halfway to look at you. You’re watching him with a grin, butterflies in your stomach when he grins back and waves again before descending the stairs back down to the party - where you’re supposed to be, instead of containing your mother as she cries on the other side of the door.
The party had started off fine with her smiling and having a good time. Somewhere between the first drink and her last, she felt Him again, dragging you to the bathroom to make you choke up the shirley temple you’d had.
Gluttonous. Greedy. Indulgent.
Unfortunately, your father had been busy somewhere with the Tower and some of the other men. He has no idea she dragged you to the bathroom for one of her episodes. But even at nine, you know how to fight her off now. She gives up just as easily as she starts, so if you can trap her long enough, usually she’ll scream herself into exhaustion.
It’s not a good look. Even as a kid you know this. Parties are an important social setting for members of the Choi Syndicate, especially when they’re held at the Tower’s home. The Tower is the most important member of the organization, the boss, the king - that’s how your dad describes it. The Tower is owed loyalty and reverence, and being invited into his family home is very important.
As a Sword, your father owes his loyalty to the Choi family. You don’t know what a Sword really does, other than it’s supposed to be exactly what it sounds like - a weapon. Your dad doesn’t talk much about his work, but on nights like tonight, he’s on duty circulating the party while you and your mother attend as guests.
Well, you were supposed to attend as guests until your mother felt the call of God again. It wears on you, having to constantly be responsible for her. You’ve missed so many parties holding her hostage in a room and away from eyes, trying to protect yourself but most of all, protect your dad. If people knew… you don’t know what would happen, but you feel the need to hide her anyway.
That’s how your dad finds you, leaning against the door and half asleep. He sighs heavily, crouching down as you blink up at him. He touches your cheek lightly and asks, “Ready to go home, Angel?”
You nod and he grins, scooping you up and tucking you against him. Your savior comes at last.
-
Afternoon sun bakes on the back of your head. You reach up, pressing your palm to your scalp, feeling the warmth. Sweat slicks your back and behind your kneecaps, running down your legs and making you squirm as you look around the yard, uncertain.
The yard is filled with tables, beautiful floral centerpieces in each of them. Flowing ribbons decorate the backs of the chairs with balloons tied to each, their center filled with dancing lights that look like butterflies. Servants move about the party dressed in all white to match the birthday theme, holding silver trays with various confectionaries and fizzy drinks.
Adults filled the yard but there’s a good dozen kids around your age. You only know some of them - specifically the birthday girl, who is the daughter of the Tower. She’s in the far corner of the yard, crouching down near a pond to look at turtles with a round-cheeked boy you don’t know.
Worst of all is the heat. It is sweltering outside and though there are powerful fans circulating cool air around the yard, nothing is enough to reach you through the layers of fabric your mother has stuffed you in, gushing about how you looked like God’s perfect angel, dressed in white and covered to the eyeballs in fabric.
“Hi, Angel.” A soft voice makes you turn and you can’t help but smile when you see Vernon. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw him, but you’re delighted and a little shy when you wave. He looks at your dress and frowns. “You’re very frilly. And… covered.”
That you are. The dress is beyond itchy, the white material reading all the way to the middle of your hands and the collar up to the jaw. You are covered from head to toe in the white, restricting material, the skirts of the dress falling in layers of chiffon to the floor.
You huff and cross your arms, feeling the sweat drip down your neck and back. “My mom made me wear it. I hate it.”
“Do you want different clothes? I have a room here. I bet I have pants and stuff that could fit.”
That makes you brighten. “Really?” He nods. “Yeah, that would be cool. I hate this dress.”
Vernon beckons you toward the main house. There are multiple houses on the Choi property, which has more land than you’ve ever seen. Even the concept of a yard blows you away. The Choi family are the kind of rich that is confusing to you, but you like going over to their house, especially when it’s not busy.
“Why do you have a room here?” You ask Vernon, who opens a door. The security team lets him, ignoring him as he enters the house proper. “I thought it was just the Choi family.”
“It is but sometimes…” He trails off as he leads you through a massive living area toward a foyer with stairs. “Um, it’s hard to explain.”
“That’s okay. That’s cool, though.”
He nods. “Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
On the second floor, Vernon leads you down two different carpeted hallways until he stops at a door, opening it up. It’s a nice room, if not a little simple. It smells like clean linen and there’s an AetherLink in the corner with a paused game.
Vernon walks over to the closet, opening the door. The lights turn on automatically, showing how deep the rows and rows of clothing goes. You raise your brows, trailing behind him. Your house is a decent size - and it’s impressive you live in a house, not an apartment - but this is something else.
Grabbing stuff off the hanger, Vernon hands it over to you. He’s given you white pants and a white flowy shirt to match the rest of the party. You take it tentatively, feeling how soft the fabric is between your fingers.
“Sometimes I fight with Seungcheol,” Vernon admits. “He’s older and thinks he’s the boss. His mom doesn’t like me much.”
“Tell them to shut up.”
Vernon’s mouth twitches, an almost smirk. “Yeah, maybe. The bathroom is there if you want to change.”
The bathroom is just as grand as the rest of the house. You change quickly, folding your dress and tucking it into your arm, coming out to stand hesitantly. He’s leaning against the dresser, hands in his pocket as he stares at the ground. When you come out, he gives you a small smile and holds out his hand for the dress. You give it to him and he puts it on his dresser before turning to you, appraising your outfit.
“Hopefully you won’t sweat to death now.”
Your smile is small. “Thanks.”
“Do you want to see the turtles?” You nod early, pressing your sweaty palms against your pants - Vernon’s pants - to dry them. “Come on.”
Afternoon sun beats down on the back of your neck as you lean over the turtle pond. There are so many of them, their shells have different shapes and sizes with bellies that are different colors and patterns. Your knees press into the dirt, uncaring if you stain them as Vernon does the same.
Vernon knows all about the turtles. He picks up each one delicately, letting it grow accustomed to him before placing them in your palm. He tells you their names, their scientific species name, how old they are, when they came to the Choi Estate, and their likes and dislikes.
It’s like a bubble has formed around you. The party continues onward, but you only have eyes for Vernon, who picks up a small turtle, cradling it in his palm. The turtle is dark green, with thin yellow striating its body and coral red spots blooming on its head. It cranes up to look at Vernon, blinking twice.
“This is Blush,” Vernon says gently. He brings his other finger up and runs it along the back of its shell delicately. It flinches for a second before it extends its neck upward, as though it wants more. He smiles and continues, eyes fixated. “She’s the newest turtle added to the pond. She’s a red-eared slider, which is why she has this red here. Baby named her Blush.”
“I love her blush.”
Vernon smiles. “We’ve had her for a month. She’s part of the emydidae family which has about fifty species. Her scientific name is trachemys scripta elegans and she’s a type of pond turtle like the others. She’s my favorite.”
“I can see why.”
“Do you want to hold her?”
Before you can answer, a shadow falls over you. Both of you look up to see the Tower’s eldest son standing over you, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Vernon’s reaction is instantaneous as he quickly puts Blush back on her rock and wipes his hands on his pants, making them damp.
“You missed singing happy birthday,” Choi Seungcheol snaps. His voice wavers right between adolescence and that first crack of puberty. “And of course you’re with the fucking turtles.”
“I was showing her… sorry.”
Seungcheol’s eyes go to you. He drinks in your outfit and his frown only increases, making you feel on edge. You don’t like that look on his face, like he’s annoyed with you. He doesn’t even know you.
Turning his attention back to Vernon he says, “Get up. You’re going to have to explain to my mother who kindly bought you those clothes why you let some girl stain them.”
“Alright.”
You look at Vernon, remembering what he had said early about Seungcheol sometimes talking to him like he was the boss. Irritation comes alive in you, thinking of all the times your mother has done exactly that despite her not being the boss of you either.
Turning to Seungcheol you say, “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
“What?”
“Do your ears not work? You don’t have to be mean to him. He was being nice to me and you’re just being rude.”
Seungcheol’s ears go red and he clenches his fists. “I don’t have to be nice to him. I’m the son of the Tower-”
“You’re not the Tower though, and even the Tower is nice. My dad says he’s nice. You’re not.”
“Angel,” Vernon mutters, a warning tone to his voice.
“No,” you tell Vernon. “He’s not being nice to you and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your mother’s face swims in your vision, the way your knees bleed when she makes you kneel on grains of rice, the sting of a switch against your back when she punishes you. “You’re not supposed to be mean to people who didn’t do anything wrong.”
Something you say makes Seungcheol’s face thunderous. You watch the darkness cloud over him, his eyes darting to Vernon. The older boy sees something there that you do not, because he goes from angry to full of rage in moments as he crouches down to eye level, looking at Vernon who has ducked his head.
“This little bastard knows what he fucking did wrong. He was born.”
Vernon doesn’t move. His breathing is heavy and you see the way his fingers grip his pants, bone white with ferocity. He doesn’t dare look at Seungcheol, who is looking at Vernon like he wants to hit him - like he might hit him. It’s exactly how your mother looks at you for drinking a soda that your dad got you, or how she looks at you when you read a book on the couch.
But Vernon doesn’t deserve it. Vernon who was nice to you in the hallway when other people ignored you. Vernon who gave you a change of clothes because you hated yours. Vernon who knows all of the names of the turtles in the pond because he sees them as friends.
Looking at them, all you see is you kneeled in supplication while your mother’s shadow looms over you, dominating. Final. Hateful.
You barely remember leaping forward to tackle Choi Seungcheol. One minute you’re a shaking, angry mess and the other you’re on top of him screaming at him, hitting him with little closed fists that can’t deliver any real damage.
Seungcheol thrashes under you, several times your size and strength as he manages to knock you off of him. He rolls over on the ground, nose crimson where you landed a single good punch on him. He yells at you but you can barely hear him through the high-pitched ringing in your ears as the rage turns into something all consuming, something you can’t stop, something that makes you want to hit and hit and hit -
Someone knocks you over. There is a high-pitched screaming before you realize that the birthday girl is on top of you, pulling your hair in a rage for attacking her brother. You push back at her, all your rage exploding as the two of you scream like feral cats. You pull anything on her that you can - hair, her dress, earrings - it doesn't matter. You yank and yank until someone is pulling the two of you apart.
The dark-haired boy that was with Seungcheol’s sister earlier is pinning you to the ground. You thrash in his hold but he’s strong, keeping you down until suddenly he topples over as Vernon crashes into him, sending him to the side. Now Vernon is the one yelling, he and the boy rolling over as they fight for dominance like you and the girl moments before.
A booming adult voice startles you as they shout, “Enough!”
Vernon and the other boy scramble to their feet, covered in dirt and grass and blood. Both of them bow deeply at the waist, unmoving as a man approaches. Around him, the adults part like the river at the prow of a boat. He’s dressed in an all white suite with a single, obsidian brooch on his lapel in the shape of a mountain.
The Tower.
Behind him is your father, and another man you don’t recognize but looks identical to the boy Vernon had tackled, all high and round cheekbones with intense eyes glaring down at the miniature version of himself. You assume he’s the boy's dad, and by the way he’s dressed, you know he’s important to the Choi family.
“All of you,” the Tower instructs. “In my office. Now.”
“Yes Tower,” you all echo in unison.
Seungcheol is the first to march after his father, spine stiff. His sister is right on his heels with the other boy right behind her. He looks over his shoulder once to scowl at you, a warning that you don’t understand before he quickens his steps after her.
Vernon sighs heavily, looking after them before he turns to you. “Come on.”
The party goes on without you all and the birthday girl. The strings start again and the adults go back to talking, some of them giggling as they watch your group of stained and bloody kids trekking behind the Tower of the Choi Syndicate into the estate.
Some of the ground floor is familiar to you. You pass through living spaces and darkened hallways with old fashion sconces before you reach a parlor room with two guards standing on the outside. Both of them look at the Choi siblings fondly, one of them leaning over to check Seungcheol’s nose before smiling and patting him on the cheek.
Inside the Tower’s office smells like leather and sweet tobacco. It’s not unpleasant but it’s unfamiliar to the heavy incense and myrrh constantly choking the air of your home. Books line the walls behind a sitting area with big, leather armchairs and an old coffee table made of rich wood.
You kind of like the room, looking around at all the strange gadgets and things unfamiliar to as the Tower clears his throat. He leans on his desk casually, crossing his arms over his chest as the five of you line up, looking at the floor underneath the heavy gaze of the Syndicate leader.
All you know about the Tower is that your dad loves him. He says he’s like family, and that out of all the men in the world who could lead the business to greatness, it’s Choi Moojin. He comes from a long line of powerful men, firm and powerful as the mountain that their name draws its meaning from. Married into the fire and wrath of the Hino family, the Choi’s have been unstoppable since he stepped into his father’s position as Tower.
And now you punched the boy who is supposed to grow into a man and replace him.
It’s a bad look. You know it is, and you don’t know how much trouble you’re in, but you would do it again. Vernon had been so soft-spoken and gentle when showing you the turtles, pointing out every detail he liked about them, listening when you asked questions.
No one listened to you when you asked questions. He did. And Seungcheol had wanted to punish him for no reason, to make Vernon feel small, to make him-
“Explain,” the Tower commands, voice rough. He points to Seungcheol. “You first.”
“That crazy little girl hit me!” he exclaims, pointing at you. “She tackled me like a savage-”
“You were mean to Vernon!” you explode, unable to keep silent. “He was showing me turtles and you were being a jerk and you hurt his feelings!”
Both Seungcheol and his sister start screaming at you, though the third boy and Vernon both stay silent as the grave. The Tower interrupts his children again, raising a hand to silence him. They fall into line immediately, bowing their heads as an apology.
The Tower looks at you and you cower, dropping your eyes. “You’re like your father,” he notes, though he doesn’t sound too angry. “Which is probably a good thing. What did Seungcheol say to Hansol that made you tackle him, hmm?”
“He called him a bastard. And something about not liking that he was born.”
There’s a heavy pause in the air. No one breathes, all of you waiting as the Tower deliberates. Finally, it’s his daughter who murmurs, “What’s a rastard?”
Suddenly, the Tower is laughing. You’re not sure at what but you glance at him from the corner of your eye to see he doesn’t look as imposing as he had earlier. Next to you, you feel Vernon relax. His shoulders drop, less tight and his mouth twitches a little.
“You kids,” the Tower sighs. “All carbon copies of your parents, I’m afraid. Seungcheol, I want you to apologize to Hansol. You know that wasn’t kind, and you’re the son of the Tower. You know better than that.”
Seungcheol nods and turns to Vernon, giving him a full ninety degree bow. “I’m sorry for insulting you and being impolite. I was… angry. It’s no excuse.”
Vernon bows a little. “I accept.”
“Now how,” the Tower says to his daughter and the boy next to her, “did the two of you get involved? Soonyoung?”
The boy next to the Tower’s daughter shifts. “Baby got mad that she,” he spits the word out toward you, “punched Seungcheol. So she started fighting with her and I tried to pull them apart. Then Vernon hit me.”
The Tower looks at Vernon, surprised.
“I was scared he was going to hurt Angel.”
“I see. Angel, is it?”
“That’s what my dad likes to call me.”
The Tower smiles and nods. “Were you just protecting Hansol?”
“Yes. He’s nice and… doesn’t deserve to be punished for being nice.”
“You have good character, Angel. Hansol needs someone to watch over him. I’m glad he has you.”
A flush goes through you, white hot. You don’t really know what he means, but you’re pleased nonetheless. You glance at Vernon to see him fighting a smile, his fingers nervously pulling at the threads of his ripped shirt.
“You all might not know it,” the Tower announces, “but you’re family. Your parents are my closest confidants, my secret-keepers, my best friends. You all will be like us, one day. Sometimes we fight - fighting is good for the spirit. But at the end of the day, we apologize, we make amends, and we move on. It is important to do those things, yes?”
“Yes, Tower.”
“Everyone make amends. You’re bound to one another for life. Start acting like it.”
-
Vernon cradles a tablet in his lap, the diagrams and charts to his math homework hovering above the screen. He sighs, shaking his head as he uses his fingers to spin the hologram around, watching it intensely. The light turns his face blue, reflecting in his dark brown eyes. It makes his freckles stand out more, the light smattering of them dusting the tops of his cheeks and his nose.
There’s a bruise on his jaw again. It makes you shift uncomfortably. Vernon’s dad doesn’t hit him, but his mad rampages influenced by the number of substances he’s prone to get into every now and again make him difficult to contain. As the only other man of the house, it’s Vernon’s job to do so.
At least, that’s what Vernon says. You’re not so sure, hating each time you find a random bruise on him, another badge of honor at containing his father’s tirades now that he’s too young to hide at the Choi Estate.
You’re supposed to be doing homework alongside Vernon, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. The windows are open to the rain, an occasional blast of wind coming in and misting the room with the smell of lotus blossom and petrichor. It’s nice, the steady drip drip drip of the rain on the roof a pleasant backtrack to your studying session, which feels like it has stretched on forever.
In time with your thoughts, Vernon stretches. You watch the way he reaches his arms upward, sleeves constricting around his biceps which have become corded and strong under Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s careful tutelage at the gym. His shirt pulls up a little with the stretch, revealing a stretch of smooth, pale stomach.
Flustered, you snap your eyes back to your homework. You should be thinking about history, not Vernon’s stupid stomach or his stupid arms. Both of which, at twelve years old, have become insanely distracting for you.
Gone is the little boy who taught you about turtles, replaced by a very cute boy that you cannot stop staring at every time you do homework together.
Thunder rolls in the distance. You look up at the ceiling as though you could see the darkening sky through it. Outside, the wind swells, growing stronger as the full strength of the storm nears. Still, you don’t close the windows. It keeps the room cool in the summer months and you like the scent and feel of the rain.
A bang startles you at the front of the house. You whirl around in your seat, Vernon’s head snapping toward the entryway where your door is open, blasts of rain coming in. Paper goes flying around the house as your mother stands in the door, soaked and shaking. She’s staring right at you and Vernon, her eyes wide, mouth open.
A chill comes over you. It has nothing to do with the rain. You murmur for Vernon to stay exactly where he is as you peel yourself off of the couch and approach her slowly. She’s dressed in her temple clothes, the fabric sticking to her wire-thin frame. Her hair is pasted to her face and she’s panting, nearly frothing at the mouth.
She looks like a wraith coming to take your soul.
“Mom?” you ask, tentative. Her eyes dart to Vernon. Back to you. Your stomach sinks. “It’s just Vernon - you know, the Chwe’s son? He’s just here for homework.”
“Whore,” she hisses, her voice demonic. “Filthy rotten whore, sinning in my house?”
“No, we’re doing-”
Her hand reaches for you. You’re fast, but she’s like an adder, striking your wrist and latching on. You yank your hand back as she storms into the house, ripping you after her. You stumble and Vernon shoots to his feet, throwing his homework to the side.
“Call my dad!” You yell at him as your mother hauls you to the hallway, her hand like an iron claw on your wrist, threatening to break it. Her anger feels like the wrath of god, but you know her god isn’t real. Only yours is, and you need him now. “Please, call him!”
“Whore!” your mother screeches, launching you through the bathroom door. She lets you go as you fall forward, slamming into the bathroom tile. It jars you, pain blooming in your shoulder particularly. You cry out, unable to stop it as she climbs over you. “Whoring in my house! In the presence of God! O forgive me Lord, for she is wretched and foul!”
“Stop it!”
“I will cleanse the sin from this house, I will rid thee of this loathsome woman, who dares to perform filth under your reverent eyes!”
Her fingers tangle in your hair and she pulls. You scream, shoving at her. She is soaking wet with rain, dripping on you and turning the tile slippery as you thrash under her like a fish. Your scalp screams as she yanks you toward the bathtub, strands of your hair coming out with the ferocity.
Your head smacks the side of the tub, making your world spin. For a moment, the ceiling spins on its axis, lights blurry. The pain leaves your scalp for a moment, your mother vanishing from your vision as you get the urge to vomit, trying to roll over and push yourself off the side of the bathtub and get away.
Thunder rolls above you, shaking the foundation of the house. Your hands slide on the tile as you push yourself up, only to be knocked back down again as she shoulders you into the bathtub. A pitiful noise leaves your mouth as you go down hard on your shoulder. You feel the crack, the pain worse than anything you’ve ever experienced before.
Crying, you clutch your shoulder, trying to roll off of it, to do anything. Touching the arm hurts, but trying to move is worse. It is a radiating pain, jarring, searing-
Water floods your mouth. You gasp, choking as you lift your head to see that the faucet is running. With renewed panic, you thrash, nearly blacking out with the pain that explodes from the injured arm. Your mother, who doesn’t seem to notice the break, grabs you by the back of your head and shoves you forward.
The pain incapacitates you. Blots out everything else, your inability to fight back vanishing and replaced with only the knowledge that the pain exists. It increases tenfold. Fifty fold. A hundred fold.
Thunder pounds against the walls of the bathroom. It shakes the door in the frame, it splinters. You can barely register the thunder over the rush of the water filling your ears, but it’s there, accompanied by the rush of water in your mouth.
Panic slams back into you. You can’t breathe, can’t see. You flail, sitting upward for a moment to suck in a sharp, painful breath.
“Have mercy on me, O God,” your mother gasps, her hands on your face, nails biting into your skin. “According to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. I will remove evil from thy house, and embrace your grace and love.”
Water fills the tub. She pushes you back under and you scream in terror, forgetting to take a breath before your world is a dull roar. You thrash, kicking at her, slapping at her, tearing your nails into her wrists. It’s like she can’t feel pain, can’t be convinced to let go.
Your lungs ache, your nose filled with water. Her grip loosens for a second and you wretch yourself upward, choking and coughing, mucus and bile burning the back of your throat as you hack. The water is near the edge of the tub, sloshing as you try to crawl away from her.
“Stop!” You scream as she grabs you by the hair again. “Stop! Mommy, stop! Please!”
Water fills your mouth again. You gag on it, feeling your throat constrict as it fights between needing to wretch and swallow down water. Before your body can figure out which, you’re being hauled out of the water, the world spinning.
You fall over the side of the bathtub onto the floor, a pile of soaking, trembling limbs. Water spills over the sides of the tub like a waterfall as you choke up the water you’ve already swallowed, vomiting it out on the tile.
Someone grabs you and you scream in terror, not wanting to go back into the tub.
“It’s me!” Vernon’s voice wavers, higher-pitched than you’re used to. You get your bearings, lifting your head to see him. He’s next to you, soaked and panicked as he holds his hands out, not touching you. “It’s me.”
Turning away from him, you look where your mother is lying on the tiles. She’s still breathing, but she’s got a knot forming on her forehead. Behind her, the door to the bathroom is in splinters, entirely kicked through and torn apart - Vernon, you realize. It wasn’t thunder, it had been Vernon kicking through the door.
A knot forms in your throat as you swivel back to him. He’s on his knees, water pooling around him as the bathroom floods. His hair is soaked, long strands hanging in his eyes, which are wide with terror. He’s panting and there’s a little bit of blood on his hands, splinters visible.
Vernon, who taught you about turtles and all of their names. Vernon, who always quietly sits next to you at parties so you don’t feel alone. Vernon, who had tackled Soonyoung because he thought you were in danger that time at Baby’s birthday party. Vernon, who liked to sit on your couch with the windows open when it rained because he enjoyed the smell.
Vernon, who pulled you from your mother’s wrath. Who saved you. Not your dad, but Vernon, this time. A new god. A fierce one.
When you start to cry, Vernon doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for you, pulling you into him. You yelp when he touches your shoulder and his touch turns careful. He slides himself against the wall, pulling you between his legs to press your good shoulder against him. His chest is warm, the steady beat of his heart underneath your cheek as you press yourself into him, heaving.
Vernon’s arms come around you, careful not to touch your shoulder. You don’t care if he does. No pain can blot this out, no pain can erase what he’s done for you. He cradles you to him like you mean everything to him, hands pressed to you and mouth against your forehead, murmuring it’s okay. I’ve got you.
Your fingers twist in his shirt as you try to catch your breath, shaking violently. He doesn’t mind, just letting you use him however you need. A constant force, a guardian who requires no penance, no devotion, no alms in return for his protection.
“I’ve got you,” Vernon promises, kissing your temple. He squeezes you tighter. “I’m not letting you go. I’ll never let you go.”
It’s how your father finds you when he skids into the doorway, wrapped in Vernon’s arms and trembling as the bathroom floods around you, mother muttering under her breath about the demon in her home.
His eyes look from your mother to you, and you see it. The realization of what’s happened. Your god turns his vengeful eye on your mother, and you know you will never know her terror again.
-
Blossom petals fall from the ceiling as your father dips Yoon Minji by the waist to kiss her. Everyone in the pews shoots to their feet, clapping happily as he smiles into the kiss. They don’t overdo it, stepping away to bow a bit to their guests, laughing and happy. You clap from where you stand on the side, one of the few bridesmaids she’s picked for the wedding.
You think you like Yoon Minji. You don’t know much about her beyond knowing that she is from one of the wealthiest families in the Choi Syndicate, and she’s the current Wisdom to Choi Moojin, which makes her the second most powerful person in the room directly after the Tower.
Across from you, her son Jeonghan claps politely, placed among the groomsmen. He’s a little bit older than you in his late teens, a spitting image of his mother with her coquettish smirk and knowing eyes. Jeonghan you do like, though you’re not sure you trust.
Trust is a fickle thing that only two people in the room you’re standing in have earned. One of them is now walking with his new wife back down the aisle from the altar where they said their vows, and the other is sitting stiffly between his mother and father, his dark eyes only on you.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You feel warmth spread up your neck to your cheeks as you begin the processional back up the aisle, walking to meet Jeonghan who gives you a raised brow.
“You’re blushing,” he teases, looping your arm with his as he escorts you. “Is it because a certain Chwe is looking this way?”
You roll your eyes at the rhyme. “You just wanted to make a rhyme.”
“I’m also right.”
“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”
He grins, turning to you, pleased at your rhyming. “I like having you for a sister. I’ll see you later, go see your mister.”
“Ugh, goodbye, Jeonghan.”
Your new step-brother lets go. He grins at you, always looking like the cat that ate the canary. You shake him off, knowing that lying to him about Vernon is pointless. The two of you are usually glued to one another’s side, near inseparable to the point that you asked if you could be a guest instead of a member of the wedding party.
That had earned a hard no from your father, despite how much he likes Vernon.
Now, though, you’re free to do what you want for cocktail hour. Naturally, this means stealing a bottle of wine from behind the bar when the bartenders aren’t looking and slipping out one of the side entrances outside.
Balmy air kisses your skin. The sun has long since faded and crickets chirp as you descend the steps toward the massive gardens on the property. The reception will be held in the east garden, so naturally you head to the west garden, slipping your phone out to message Vernon and tell him where to find you.
A waxing moon hangs in the sky. The entire world looks blue under its light, dark enough to slip away unnoticed but bright enough not to get lost on the cobblestone path, following the tinkling sound of a fountain.
The small courtyard has a massive fountain at its center. The statue centerpiece shows a series of mermaids resting upon rocks, water sprouting around them and showering them with mist. You walk up to the fountain's edge, looking at the glittering coins at the bottom that make the water smell coppery.
Mist cools your skin from the fountain. You study the mermaids while you wait for Vernon, eyeing the details of each scale, each strand of hair. The artist had a good hand, the careful lines and curves of the stone life-like.
Footsteps make you turn around. Vernon enters the yard, his hands tucked in the pocket of his suit pants. He looks at ease, walking in that same loping gait he always does. Now that he’s fourteen, he’s a lot taller than he used to be. Still wire thin, but not gangly like he was as a youth.
Tonight, his hair is gelled back. You feel your heart start to race again as he grins when he sees you, a smile only reserved for you. He looks painfully handsome, his suit fitting him just right and a cluster of white flowers that you’ve never seen before pinned to his jacket.
“Where’d you get that?” He gestures to the bottle of wine as he stands next to you, kicking a foot up on the fountain's edge to lean his elbow on his knee.
“Stole it from behind the bar.”
He shakes his head, laughing and holding his hand out. You give it to him and he turns the label upward, reading it in the moonlight. “This is good shit. They should keep better track of their wine.”
“I’m good at not being seen.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Vernon peels the foil off the wine bottle, pausing to look you up and down. “I always see you, though.”
As soon as he says it, he drops his eyes. You stare at him, your heartbeat racing as he pulls out a knife to get the cork out the bottle. You don’t ask why he has a knife - you have one too. A beautiful little butterfly knife with a mother of pearl handle and an edge sharp enough to cut a single strand of hair. It had been a gift from Jeonghan, a little welcome to the family.
Vernon is always like this. He says things that make you stare at him, trying to unravel their meaning. You’re both fourteen and you know what flirting is, but you can’t figure out if that’s what he’s doing or not. Sometimes Vernon just says things and doesn’t mean anything secondary. He’s simple like that, very to the point and forward. Other times, you swear there is an inflection there, but you can’t tell if it’s because there is or you want there to be.
This is one of those times. Of course Vernon always sees you - he knows you better than anyone else in the world. From the moment he pulled you out of that tub and cradled you to his chest, you knew that you were his. It doesn’t matter if he knows or not. You’re entirely devoted to him - all because he doesn’t ask for it. Doesn’t expect it.
He doesn’t expect anything from anyone. It’s part of why you like him so much. He believes in keeping to himself and keeping quiet, carefully observing the world around him. Jeonghan thinks it makes Vernon dangerous - the good kind, he had emphasized. The useful kind.
You think it makes him perfect.
Vernon manages to get the cork out the wine bottle, his smile electric as he turns to you, presenting the bottle. You clap happily, taking it from him and bringing it up to your lips to take a hearty swig.
Immediately you cough, making a face as the wine hits your mouth. It’s fruity but it’s dry and tangy, something about it making you shake your head. After a difficult swallow, you take a big breath of air and give it back to him, still coughing.
“Wine is terrible.”
He takes it and tilts it towards you, his own cheers. When he takes a sip, he makes a face but his reaction is far less vile than yours. Smacking his lips together he says, “Yeah, not great.”
Together, you sit on the fountain, sticking your feet in the water. Vernon has rolled up his pants, to the knee, swishing his feet back and forth as you take another sip from the bottle. Your dress is pooled around your thighs, lifting lightly in the breeze.
Even though the wine is disgusting, you drink it anyway. Let it make you dizzy, turning the world softer. It feels good, this little buzz you have. You’ve never been drunk before but it makes you giggle, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as Vernon takes another swig.
When you open your eyes and look at him, you giggle.
“What?” he asks, shy. He puts the bottle down.
“Your mouth and teeth are sooo red.”
“Yours too.” He laughs, leaning toward you a little. You can’t tell if it’s the drink or his proximity that makes you dizzy. His breath fans your face - you hadn’t realized how close he was. “Your lips are red like berries.”
“Really?”
“Mhmm.” His eyes are dark, something flickering in them as they drop to your mouth. “Wonder if they taste like berries too.”
Your breath catches, heart hammering. “Why don’t you find out?”
Vernon doesn’t even hesitate. He presses his lips to yours, a little forceful and awkward. You don’t care, shocked that he’s kissing you. You don’t know what to do, but you close your eyes, letting Vernon slot his mouth against yours.
For a moment, it’s just the two of you and the press of your mouths, the fountain spraying you with water as the wind changes direction. Then, Vernon tentatively parts your lips, his tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip and you soar.
He starts to pull back but you make a sound, shifting forward to really kiss him. You know nothing about kissing, but you remember Lin telling you and the other girls about it. Baby had told you a little bit about what it was like to kiss Soonyoung, so you try to replicate her feedback, gently licking Vernon’s mouth open.
Vernon makes a pitiful sound, leaning into you. Your noses bump and you grow eager, bringing a hand up to his neck, holding him there. His hands cradle your face, his mouth eager and hungry. It’s messy and clumsy and you’re not sure either one of you really knows what you’re doing, but it’s Vernon and it’s everything.
When you break away, panting, Vernon presses his forehead against yours, nose nudging you. “Tastes better than berries.”
“What’s it taste like?”
His grin is goofy and he can barely get the joke out when he says, “My girlfriend?”
It’s more like a question but you already have an answer, nodding and whispering, “Your girlfriend.”
-
“Ah fuck,” Vernon mutters as you walk toward him, his head thudding against the back of the couch. You don’t hear his voice but you can see the look on his face and the shape of the words on his mouth as you storm over, fingers flexing. “I warned you,” you hear Vernon mutter to the girl he’s been pushing off of him the last ten minutes.
Vernon watches, eyes flashing when you grab the girl by the back of the neck and yank backward. The girl’s head snaps up, her eyes wide when she realizes who is grabbing her. Immediately she drops her hands from Vernon’s arms and tries to lean away from you, but you’ve got her in a death grip, nails digging into her skin.
She lets out a sound as you stare down on her, feeling your anger throb in the side of your neck alongside your pulse. The buzz of the alcohol burning through you doesn’t help either, turning your wrath sharp like a knife. Somewhere, you hear Jeonghan collecting bets behind you.
“He told you no,” you growl. You’d watched Vernon several times physically try to get up from the couch and push the girl off but she’d clung to him, ignoring his protests. “And no is a full sentence.”
“I didn’t know he was yours.”
Your nails dig in further and her hands fly up to your wrists, trying to break free as she cries. “The point is he told you no. Now apologize.”
Vernon watches with dull amusement, brows raised as they flicker between you and your victim. He always seems interested in what your nexk move is going to be, happy to go along with whatever your mood brings out, even if it’s violence.
“I’m sorry,” the girl says to you and you shove her forward. Her head snaps down, teeth clacking painfully. “Not to me, idiot. To him. Apologize to him for violating his personal space and not knowing what consent is.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
Hauling her off the couch is a task. She’s much taller than you, but you’re strong. Seungcheol has started letting you work out with them, and though he still holds a grudge from that time you punched him in the face as kids, he’d rather you be good at fighting than bad at it.
Instead of fighting, you let the girl go. She hits the floor like a ragdoll, scrambling away from you. Your fingers are sticky with her blood, the underneath of your nails black with it. She stumbles to her feet, hand going to the back of her neck where she must feel the broken skin.
“Crazy bitch,” she gasps, looking at you.
You take a single step and she shrieks in fear, running. You want to chase her, but Vernon’s hand is around your wrist and he’s laughing, tugging you toward him on the couch. Collapsing into his lap, you pout at him, stomach fluttering at the way he looks at you - like you’re everything, the only thing.
It doesn’t matter that you’re only fifteen. You know that you’re in love with Vernon and that he’s in love with you. No amount of threats by your father has swayed Vernon and no amount of never trust a man from your stepmother has convinced you that you cannot trust Vernon implicitly.
“Very hot of you,” Vernon assures, his hands sliding from your waist to your ass. He grips you through your jeans, uncaring that you’re in the middle of some gritty ass party in the Lower District. If Baby knew you were here, she’d be so mad you didn’t bring her along. “Kiss me.”
You do. He tastes like gin and lemons, but he smells like fresh rain, all petrichor and vetiver. His mouth is warm and wet against yours, a little clumsy because he’s been drinking, but far more skilled than that awkward kiss you shared the night your father married Minji.
Vernon groans under you and you laugh, cradling his face with your hands as you separate from him, nipping his lower lip a little. “Take me home,” you whisper, thighs squeezing around his. “Please?”
He taps your ass. “Let’s fucking go.”
Outside the world is awash in rain. It’s always raining in the city, turning the streets slick. It smells awful in the Lower District, the water flooding the streets and clogging the drain until it smells like wet decay and piss. A group of men shuffle too close for comfort, making Vernon tug you toward him. His eyes are dark beacons as he watches them pass by, either uninterested in the two of you or deciding you’re not easy targets.
Standing on your tiptoes, you press a messy kiss to Vernon’s jaw. He smirks but his eyes never leave the men until they’re around the corner. Vernon might be quiet and unassuming most of the time, but he’s the son of a Sword, one of the heavies for the Choi Syndicate. Vernon is far more lethal than he looks, and he’s learned how to use it.
Turning to catch your mouth, Vernon presses a messy kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he mumbles, tugging you toward the motorcycle parked near the front of the apartment complex. “Let’s go.”
Vernon slides onto the bike, unhooking a helmet and passes it to you. You swing a leg over, getting on the back and pulling the helmet on. Immediately, the face shield swims with color as it turns on, a mini heads up display projected across the glass.
Underneath you, the bike roars to life. Red lights glow around the rim of the wheels, casting murky light on the sidewalk as Vernon walks the bike backward. You scoot closer to his back, wrapping your arms around the middle to give him a squeeze. One of his hands drops from the handlebars and pats your leg.
“Good?” His voice comes through the comms in the helmet perfectly clear.
“Good. You good?”
“Mhmm.” You hear something click against his teeth. “I’ve got a stim pop.”
The boys love stim pops. Most of them use them when they’re trying to fight a high or being drunk, the mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate serving as a kickstart to the nervous system. All of the workers under the Choi banner use them, especially when pulling late night shifts or just trying to stay awake. Your father even chews them sometimes, popping one in his mouth when he comes home.
You hate the taste, personally. The candies aren’t sweet enough and you can taste the bitter edge of the stimulant as it melts in your mouth. Vernon, however, loves them. He’s always careful not to overuse them, afraid of becoming too reliant on them. With his father’s history, you don’t blame him.
Resting the side of your helmet on Vernon’s back, you watch as the world turns into a blur of color. You love the feeling of being on a motorcycle, the world around you becoming nothing but wind and blurring shapes. This late at night, Vernon has to maneuver around people as he drives through the entertainment districts, but once he hits the highway you’re gone.
Wind rips at your clothes. You can see the speed in the corner of your heads up display as Vernon tops out the bike, shooting across the bridge like a bullet. He’s going way above the speed limit but you don’t care, hugging him closer as he navigates through the night.
Even if city police did want to go after him for speeding, they’d never catch him. Seungkwan had refitted the bike with tons of illegal parts and machinery, making it travel at speeds far above regulations. And even if Vernon did get pulled over, he just needed to tell them who he was - the Choi’s were deep in the infrastructure of law enforcement, near impossible to weed out.
Nights like this with Vernon feel invincible. As children to members of status in the Choi Syndicate, you’re untouchable. Gods.
Well, perhaps Vernon is. You don’t feel so much as a god as you do a shadowy angel at his side, ready to deliver vengeance tenfold to whoever stands in his way. It’s been like that since the day he pulled you out of the bathtub - before, even, when you’d punched Seungcheol for him.
Despite being high-ranking in the Choi Syndicate, Vernon’s family doesn’t live in the luxurious accommodations as some of the other upper echelon. He had lived in an actual home like you when you were kids, but last year had moved to a smaller apartment in the Upper District - still better than most of the population of the city, but strange for someone so close to Choi Moojin.
Sleep is a stranger to the city. Lights burn in the windows of the skyscraper as Vernon pulls into the garage lift. He plants his feet on the ground, a hand dropping to your thigh to squeeze and hold you close as the lift shoots upward. It jolts you a bit and you hug him closer.
“Gonna break my ribs,” he teases.
“Good. I’m the only one allowed.”
“Anything you want.”
It makes you smile. You’d never actually hurt him - you’d rather die than inflict any sort of damage on him. Jeonghan has tried to tell you over and over again that you should have a contingency with Vernon, that if he ever breaks your heart-
You shake your head at the thought. Jeonghan trusts no one and neither do you - but Vernon isn’t no one.
The lights are off in Vernon’s apartment. His mother is nowhere to be found, which isn’t uncommon, and his father blessedly isn’t home. You don’t think Vernon would bring you back if Chwe Jiyeong was home. You don’t have to ask why and Vernon doesn’t have to explain. Like most things between the two of you, you just know.
Vernon pulls you toward him as he walks backward toward his room. You giggle, your feet tangling and tripping as you go. You chase his lips with yours, pleased when he lets you drown him in an all consuming kiss, your hands pulling him closer by the jacket.
Tumbling into his room, you knock something over and he laughs. Pressing your hands against his chest, you send him backward onto his bed. His room is dark, save for the light peeking through the tinted windows. This high up in the sky, the clouds blot out the moon.
Crawling into his lap, you grin down at Vernon. His hands go to your hips, greedy fingers exploring. His eyes shine in the darkness of the room, hungry for you - only you. You are the only thing in the world Vernon ever looks at with a sliver of desire.
Leaning down, you plant your hands on either side of his head, dropping your mouth to kiss him again when something crashing in the living room startles you both. Vernon is fast - faster than you even knew he could move. He has you up and off of him in a second, planting you on the bed as he heads for his bedroom door.
You begin to stand but Vernon holds out a hand, stopping you. “Don’t move,” he whispers. “Stay in here, and do not come out of this room. It’s probably my dad.”
Nodding, you sit back on the bed. You swallow thickly, watching as Vernon places his hand on the knob and stills, turning his head to listen. At first, there’s just eerie silence. Your heart pounds hard enough that you swear he can hear it thundering in your ribcage.
Someone cusses out in the living room. Vernon dips his head, sighing heavily as he white-knuckles the door handle. You watch the change come over him, a stone dropped in a still pond rippling a calm surface. He’s tense now, the desire for you moments ago stomped out by the sound of his father knocking over something else in the house, followed by the yell of his mother’s name.
Vernon turns back to you, eyes hard. “Stay here. I’ll get him back to his room and I’ll take you home.”
You nod. You know better than to be disappointed. His dad has ruined your night, but getting to ravage Vernon isn’t as important as this.
Carefully, Vernon opens the door. A shaft of light falls across his face, showing a moment of fear. Then he’s through the door and it’s closed, leaving you alone as your fingers twist nervously in his sheets.
Straining your hearing, you listen as Vernon’s steps fade down the hall. His soft voice is barely audible through the closed bedroom door. Silence follows for a moment, then you hear his dad, voice raised. The urge to stand up and go to the door is overwhelming but you stay put, knowing it’ll only make things worse.
Jiyeong hates your stepmother, and by extension, you.
Again, Jihyeong’s voice raises in the living room. You cannot make out what he’s saying, but it's obvious he’s angry. He’s always angry, though. Angry he can’t kick his addiction to frostbyte and resin, angry the Tower didn’t save his home from being taken by the bank, angry he’s in this apartment, angry that Vernon is here and his mother isn’t, angry at the world.
Growing up, you’d only seen the angry episodes from Vernon’s father once or twice. Seungcheol’s sister had told you about them, though. How when she was little, she’d be woken up to Vernon being brought upstairs to stay the night while Jiyeong was raving mad downstairs, how the Tower and his Sentinel - Soonyoung’s father - would placate him until morning.
No one placates him anymore. Soonyoung’s father is dead and Vernon is fifteen, old enough to deal with his old man by Syndicate standards.
A crash of sound makes you shoot to your feet. You wring your hands together, staring at the door intensely, wishing you could manifest Vernon to walk back through. Another loud crash followed by a loud shout makes you flinch, your hand flying to the angel charm on your necklace.
For a few beats, there’s only silence.
The silence scares you more than the shouting. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re opening the door and rushing down the hall.
Light spills into the living room from the kitchen. You smell something burning and catch snatches of foils near the stove top where there’s still an open flame. For a second, you think the apartment is empty, but you hear a grunt and something smack against the cabinets.
Rounding the counter top, you scream, reaching for Jiyeong where he sits on top of Vernon, whose feet are sliding against the title as he kicks, hands wrapped around his father’s wrists. Jiyeong’s hands are wrapped around Vernon’s throat, thumbs pressing dangerously into his windpipe.
You don’t even think. You lunge forward, grabbing at Jiyeong to pull him off of his son. He thrashes to the side, throwing you into the counter. Pain explodes in your hip but you don’t care, diving back at Jiyeong to pull him off of Vernon. You succeed in loosening his grip and Vernon gasps for air, his face red and strained as he coughs, spittle flying.
The moment of respite is costly - his dad shoves you back hard, sending you stumbling and falling on your ass. It hurts when you land, a pile of limbs and panic and disorientation. It doesn’t matter. You scramble to your feet again, the world tilting as your panic consumes you.
Jumping on Vernon’s father, you try to pull him off. He’s insanely strong, arms corded and honed to killing perfection, the perfect Sword of a powerful Syndicate. Vernon doesn’t try to fight back - he just pries at his father’s hands, the death grip so strong that he knows it’s his best chance at survival.
Your nails rend down Jiyeong’s face, you pull at his hair, at his head. It doesn’t matter. He is feral and intent on a single thing, and that’s choking the life out of the person you love most in the world - even more than you love your father, your god, your savior.
A set of knives catches your attention on the counter. Without second guessing, you grab one, knocking the block over with your haste. Your hand shakes on the handle and you scream when you bring it down on the juncture between Jiyeong’s neck and shoulder.
He doesn’t stop choking Vernon. Filled with rage and terror, you shriek, gripping the handle as blood spills onto your hand. You rip the blade out and drive it down again and again, ignoring the way blood spurts, covering your face and arm.
Jiyeong finally lets go of Vernon, who starts coughing as he sucks down air. He twists under his father, kicking away to roll over on his stomach and crawl away. He gets a few feet away, where he stops to vomit.
You stop screaming. Vernon chokes, spit flying from his mouth as he hacks, trying to get his windpipe to work again. Jiyeong remains on his knees for a second and you realize he’s also choking. His hands are covering the stab wound in his neck, red spelling between his fingers and running down his arms.
Then, he falls forward.
Shaking, you remain standing where you are, hand trembling violently, knife in your hand. It is covered in red now, nearly indistinguishable. Heaving, Vernon manages to sit on the floor, sliding further away from his father to press himself against the fridge. His throat is already red and bruising.
Vernon’s eyes go from his father, motionless on the floor and in a pool of blood to you. Then back to his father. Then you again, where his gaze stays. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you’d thought he was going to die and that you had to do something about it. You didn’t-
“I didn’t mean-”
Vernon shakes his head and holds out his hand to you. He says nothing - can’t say anything with his throat - but his hand is outstretched toward you and violently shaking. He’s asking - begging - you to come to him.
You drop the knife and it clatters, loud in the eerily silent apartment. You rush to him, stepping over the body, foot sliding in blood. You careen forward, collapsing to your knees. Pain shoots up your legs but you don’t care, crawling to Vernon, hands slippery against the tile until you’re there and you’re holding his hand and he’s pulling you to his chest.
Vernon is quivering, his entire body vibrating as you press against him. His arms squeeze you tight and he turns both of you away from the mess at the mouth of the kitchen, shielding you from it.
Your hands are on his face, smearing blood and red finger prints across his perfect skin as you inspect him. He shakes his head, as though to say he’s fine. But he’s not fine. His throat is bruised and you don’t know how much damage his dad did and he just watched you plunge a knife into his father over and over again.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”
Vernon kisses you. It’s brief and quick, but it stops you from spiralling. He shakes his head again, squeezing you harder. Instead of fighting him, you melt into him. Bury your face in his neck. Cry. Cry like you haven’t since your mother tried to purge this world of your existence. Cry because for a moment, you thought he was gone.
Minutes pass. Maybe hours. When Vernon stops shaking, you finally pull yourself from his neck turning to look at the body. The blood has stopped pooling around it. It’s dark - darker than you remember. Perhaps because it’s drying. Going cold.
Wiping your nose, you look at Vernon. He’s expressionless, eyes wide. “I have to call Minji,” you rasp. “She’ll know what to do.” You nod to yourself, pressing the back of your bloodied hand to your mouth. “Yeah, she’ll know what to do.”
-
Turns out that Yoon Minji does always know what to do. You sit at her boudoir, back facing the mirror. You don’t feel like facing the mirror right now. You know that your dark under eyes and hollowed out expression will just stare back at you.
Minji comes in with a steaming cup of tea, closing the door gently behind her. She is more poised and regal than you’ll ever be, but you like that about her. She reminds you of the knife that Jeonghan gave you when you became step-siblings: a beautiful, mother of pearl handle with a blade so sharp you could cut paper.
You see that in your stepmother as she hands you the mug of tea. You cup it carefully in your hands, palms leeching the warmth from the cup. It smells like honey and chamomile, perhaps with a hint of yarrow. She’d recently started teaching you the names of herbs and how to smell them out, as well as their properties.
Vernon would like her lessons, you think.
Vernon.
As always, he consumes your thoughts. He is, afterall, the reason why you’re barely able to sleep. Though you’re able to spend all day with him while he recovers from a crushed windpipe and a broken collarbone, you have to let him rest at night, which means him being alone.
You hate it. You know he’s in the careful care of the Choi family’s personal doctor, and Dr. Ymir is wonderful. But you hate being separated from him, and despite screaming and yowling like a feral cat, the Tower had been adamant that you were separated for his recovery.
Vernon hated it too. Nearly set himself back by damaging his throat to scream that he wanted you with him. The Tower had finally compromised and agreed that you could spend all day there if you left for a minimum of eight hours at night to sleep.
Minji sits on the edge of her bed. She smoothes her silk shirt down and crosses one knee over the other. She’s dressed professionally in a beautiful, pearl colored shirt tucked into black cigarette pants, with pearls in her ears and on her fingers, hair tucked neatly in a bun behind her head.
She is worlds more beautiful than your own mother, but perhaps your opinion of your birth mother is a little skewed.
“Drink,” Minji urges, gesturing to the cup. “I’ll help you sleep. If you still can’t sleep, send for me. I’ll get you something stronger.”
Nodding, you sip the tea. Warmth unfolds in your mouth and you do feel yourself relax a little. Your hackles have been raised since leaving Vernon an hour ago, and already you’re looking at the clock to see how long until you can go back.
She notices and laughs. Not meanly, but tiredly, followed by a sigh. “What are we going to do with the two of you?”
“Nothing,” you mutter into a cup. “We were defending ourselves.”
She waves a hand. “Not about that. Chwe Jiyeong is a motherfucker. The fact that he would dare hurt that child is-” She cuts herself off with an angry sound. “No one will miss him.”
“The Tower will.”
Her mouth thins. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Silence stretches between the two of you. You sip your tea, watching her while she watches you. Her eyes don’t miss a thing. As the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate, it’s her job to be the second-in-command. The know-it-all. The intelligence.
Minji must be grand indeed. Most women in the Syndicate didn’t have roles like that. The Kim and Yong Syndicates only had men in executive roles. It was mostly the same under the Choi banner, but Minji was different. The Fox, some called her.
“Do you know why Chwe Jiyeong tried to murder his son, Angel?” Her question catches you off guard. You hesitate, sipping your tea as you think about how to answer her. She notices, her mouth twitching. “Ah. You do.”
Of course she can see the deliberation in your eyes. Instead of arguing, you ask, “Does it matter that I know?”
“Not really. I’m more interested in how you know. Did the boy tell you?”
“No.”
“Pray tell, then.”
“When we were kids, we all got into a fight.”
She smiles. “I recall. You were very disruptive.”
“It started because Seungcheol was being mean to Vernon. I told him that he shouldn’t be mean because Vernon did nothing wrong, but he called Vernon a bastard and said Vernon had done wrong by being born.”
“I see.”
“Wouldn’t have meant much to me as a kid, but Vernon had mentioned that Seungcheol and Seungcheol’s mom specifically didn’t like him much. As we got older, I wondered why out of all the kids that have family members who work for the Tower, why Vernon was given a space at the Choi Estate.”
Her eyes are glittering now, smile spreading. “And?”
“Soonyoung was given a room because his parents are dead.” You sip your tea. “His dad was the Tower’s closest friend. Vernon’s dad wasn’t though. He had a drug problem and was constantly disappointing the Tower.”
“So why give Vernon a place to stay, then?”
“Because he’s not Jiyeong’s son. He’s the Tower’s.”
When Minji smiles, you see Jeonghan in her. Jeonghan looks so much like his mother that sometimes it makes you do a double take. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in the Yoon family, and it doesn’t just stop at looks. Jeonghan is the perfect clone of his mother in face, but particularly in mind.
Which is why you wonder what her motive is when she says, “You’re very bright, you know.”
It wasn’t a question but you answer anyway. “Yes.”
“Most fifteen year olds would have been very afraid to kill someone.”
“I was afraid. Just not more afraid of him than I was Vernon was going to die.”
“Good.” She stands, unfolding like a lotus flower blooming. “I’d like to put that mind of yours to use, Angel. Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.” She pauses and smiles. “I think Vernon might be good for the job, too.”
-
Nerves twist your stomach into knots. You wind your fingers in your shirt, following Vernon out of the main house and onto the grounds of the Choi Estate. The bruising on his throat is long gone, but Vernon’s voice has only just started returning.
Not that you’ve heard it, at all. His vocal recovery is reserved strictly for the hours spent with his medical team, going through exercises as he slowly makes progress toward speaking fully again. Thankfully he’s expected to make a full recovery. You remind yourself to ask Minji to give Dr. Ymir a hefty bonus for helping Vernon, especially with how fast his return to health has been.
You are dying to hear his voice. Weeks spent writing notes and curating ways to communicate has lost its novelty, and now you just want to hear him again. You miss his voice more than you’ve missed anything else, and you’re starting to worry that you might forget the sound of it. The pitch. The raspiness.
No.
His voice haunts you in your dreams, brushing along your skin like velvet, coaxing you into a restful sleep. Other times, it twists your nightmares, his scream cut off by the sound of his choking as his father chokes him, face turning blue.
The nightmares only happen when you sleep without him. Now that he’s back to functioning health, you’re allowed to spend however long you want with him - in theory, anyway. Though the adults keep muttering about how improper it is for two teenagers to be having sleepovers, it’s easier to let you have your way than to try and pull you apart.
Everyone remembers Vernon screaming the last time they’d done that.
Plus, there’s no way that the Tower hasn’t noticed Soonyoung occasionally slipping into Baby’s room after waking up from nightmares. Vernon shares a wall with him now, and sometimes Soonyoung’s sharp shouting stirs you from sleep before you hear the soft click of his door and his footsteps fade toward the youngest Choi’s room.
No one says anything, though. It’s like the Tower had told the group of you years ago: you’re bound together for life.
That is certainly true enough for Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s sister, who covet one another like greedy little magpies hoarding treasure. Seungcheol covets no one and nothing, but he’s grown out of the sulky, mean teenager phase and remains a bulwark for the rest of you - especially between you and the adults.
The first hint of autumn air kisses the back of your neck. Vernon’s fingers are linked with yours, leading you toward the gazebo near the retention pond at the south end of the estate. You both pause as you near the small turtle pond, both of you crouching down to say hello.
They swarm to the edge of the pool, stretching their necks up to greet Vernon who smiles brightly, gently petting each and every one of their heads. You recognize Blush when you see her, much larger in size but just as beautiful with her rouge ears and beady eyes.
Giggling, you hold your hand out to her, letting her come up to gently nip at your finger. When she decides you have no snacks for her, she ducks under the water, little legs kicking as she vanishes into the murky bottom.
Satisfied, Vernon stands up and offers you his hand again. You take it, smiling. It occurs to you how genuinely happy you are. It’s one of the few days you have off between school, meetings with Minji, and combat classes led by Old Man Vero and Seungcheol.
The memory of Seungcheol putting you on your ass the first day sours your mood a little. He’d told you it was for that punch all those years ago, and you didn’t blame him. Now, there’s no bad blood between the two of you. As the future Tower, he takes your self defense seriously.
You’re also the only one of your group of five who has murdered a fully grown man.
It’s not something to brag about. There are other teenagers your age in the organization who have killed. Most of them are less fortunate - their parents aren’t high up the rung in the Syndicate or they’ve fallen from grace. Some of the others don’t have parents and are in the Syndicate to survive.
Death isn’t something you want to think about while with Vernon though, so you shove it away as he walks up the steps of the gazebo. Wisteria trees surround the building, the purple leaves draping the railings and stretching through some of the windows. A few yards away, the pond ripples as a family of ducks swims across.
Vernon sits on the bench, tilting his face upward into a ray of sun. You sit close next to him, pivoting so you can face him directly, eyes scanning his face as he closes his eyes to enjoy the warmth.
A smile tugs at your lips. Your entwined hands rest in his lap, his tumb absently rubbing back and forth across the top of your hand. He is so beautiful. He’s regained some of this tan back now that he’s somewhere he can go outside and enjoy the sun. His freckles are a little darker for it, skin a little more flushed and glowing.
Glinting gold catches your eyes. You smile when you see the gold chain peeking from the collar of his shirt. You know the angel that you used to wear is tucked under his shirt, a new talisman for protection. You’d given it to him the night you’d saved him from his father, clasping the chain around his neck with bloody, shaky hands and promising that it would bring him protection.
You reach out toward Vernon with the hand not holding his, fingers brushing the top of his cheek bones. He doesn’t open his eyes but he grins and turns toward you, letting your fingers trace his nose, the shape of his brows, his lips. Your fingers stop at his mouth, pinching his lips together in a pout lightly.
He chuckles but doesn’t laugh - not really. You wish he was able to, aching to hear his voice again.
Vernon’s eyes flutter open. The sun hits him just right, turning his brown irises into molten gold. Your heart beats a little faster as you lean on your palm, watching him. He has the most incredibly eyes, turning from brown to burnished gold in the right light, and-
He interrupts your thoughts and says your name. You blink once. Twice. Not Angel. Not any other nickname. Your name. In his raspy, but deep voice, that is soft as velvet and oh oh oh.
“You-” Your voice catches. “You shouldn’t talk unless you’re able.”
He says your voice again and your hands squeeze his, turning into a vice grip. “I’ve been practicing,” he whispers, and you lean forward, not wanting to miss a word. “I can start talking again. Just wanted you to hear me before anyone else.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I promise.” He pauses. “Are you going to cry?”
“No.”
He laughs - actually laughs - when you turn your face away from him to look at the pond, eyes flowing with tears. He pulls you close to him, leaning into your space. He smells like rain and earth, petrichor and vetiver. Vernon says your name again and you look at him, heart hammering.
“Vernon,” you whisper back, like an answer to the way he says your name.
He shakes his head and you frown, questioning. “Hansol.”
Only my mom gets to call me Hansol and it’s ‘cause I love her.
Now you are definitely crying. It makes him laugh because he knows you hate crying, but he is the only person in the world who can move you to tears. He’s the only person allowed.
“Hansol,” you murmur.
His smile lights up the entire world.
-
“Hansol!” You screech, tripping over the shoes he left by the door. You kick the boots, sending them flying into the entryway. “You motherfucker, stop leaving your shoes in front of the fucking door!”
No one answers your complaints. Huffing, you toe off your boots, slick with rain. They’re heavy and caked in mud, messing up the rug at the front of the door. Instead of leaving your shoes where anyone walking in can trip over them, you pick them up and put them on the shoe rack like a decent human being.
Simmering, you walk into the house proper. The lights are off but there’s a vetiver candle on the counter in the kitchen, filling the house with a scent that smells exactly like Hansol. It lessens your stormy mood a bit as you get to the stairs, climbing them two at a time to get to the second floor faster.
One of the smaller guest houses on the Choi Estate has been taken over by you and Hansol entirely. There are only two bedrooms on the second floor, but that’s all you need. A single room for the two of you to share, and one room for the egregious amount of weapons and paraphernalia to do your jobs.
The paraphernalia room - or the Pew Pew Place, as Mingyu calls it - is heavily locked with a bioscanner and a digital padlock. You pass it as you walk toward the tiny, spiral staircase in the corner of the hall. You climb it, careful not to tip over the hand railing that is far too low, ducking into an attic turned greenhouse of sorts.
It’s really Hansol’s rain room. There are some plants hanging from the ceiling, their waxy green leaves spilling over the sides and thriving in the sunlight when it pours through the glass ceiling. Now, the ceiling is misty and awash with rain as it taps on the glass.
A record player stands against one of the walls, a massive shelf of nothing but records expanding to the side of it. There’s also a small coffee cart and sitting area for when Seungkwan or Mingyu want to come over.
The object of your ire - and now affection - is lounging on the green chaise by the window, hands behind his head as he stares up at the water sluicing down the roof, his headphones on and making him unaware of you standing in the entryway.
Sighing, your anger immediately melts. Instead of yelling at him for the shoes, you walk toward him, feeling the exhaustion wear you down. Anger and exhaustion are the only two things you seem to feel lately. Even your love for Hansol sometimes seems blotted out by the size of your anger, which has turned into an ancient creature that you’re unsure how to control.
For now, you will it away - beg it to leave. It’s easier to do when you’re sinking into Hansol’s lap, startling him from his reverie. You smile as you lean down, laying on his chest. He wraps one arm around you while the other pulls off his headphones, the music pausing as he does.
Hansol is warm and smells like the rain he’s watching - soothing, making you forget about everything for just a second. Underneath your cheek, you feel the steady rhythm of his heart, one of your favorite sounds.
Instead of saying anything, you both just lie there, you on top of him while he holds you, content to run his hands absently up and down your back. It’s nice. Moments like this lately are few and far between, the world spinning so fast that it’s hard to stop and take a second to just hold him.
As if it can sense your moment of peace, Hansol’s phone starts to ring. You hiss and he groans. You want him to ignore it. He wants to ignore it. But you know that ringtone anywhere, and despite wanting to keep this moment for longer than five minutes, Hansol reaches into his pocket to answer Seungcheol’s phone call.
“Yes, Tower?”
You bury your face in Hansol’s chest, which vibrates when he speaks. “Got it. Yeah.” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Alright.”
He hangs up the phone. “Tell him no.”
“You tell him no. He’s actually afraid of you.”
“Seungcheol isn’t afraid of anyone.”
Well. That isn’t explicitly true. You wouldn’t say that Seungcheol is afraid of you, but he’s certainly wary. Wary in the way someone might be a bomb that is under their roof. Wary in the way someone’s exotic pet has started to corrode under animal instinct. Wary in the way one might be when one of their prime killers recently lost the only person she ever really considered a mother, setting her on a warpath.
Your jaw works. Yoon Minji had been the last connection you’d had to your father. Somehow, losing her has felt worse.
It wasn’t like your father, who had finally withered away from cancer. Minji had been picture-perfect health, if not a little old and weary from running the Syndicate while Choi Moojin withered away to sickness after his wife’s passing. Minji was built of different stuff. Strong in the face of death. A force to be reckoned with as her friends aged out of life without her, leaving her to be the steadfast Wisdom manning the helm.
Then the Kim and Yong Syndicates had struck like snakes in the night, a move only cowards were capable of. The only reason the Choi Syndicate hadn’t fallen to the treachery of the Kim’s entirely was because of the Tower’s daughter. Her forced marriage to Kim Yujin had ultimately been the Choice Syndicate's saving grace, her call coming only two hours prior to the coordinated attack, a warning that an overthrow was in process.
It had been enough time for most people.
It hadn’t been enough time for you or Jeonghan to get to Minji. Not enough time to figure out why they knew where she was or how to get her. Now, you were both trying to stay adrift in the aftermath of losing your shared anchor - Jeonghan worse than you but you… worse than you expected.
“You okay?” Hansol’s voice brings you back to the present. Only Hansol is able to drag you out of those churning waters where your eldritch anger lurks, waiting. Watching. Hungry. “I gotta go soon but if you’re not good-”
“I’m good.” Lie. “I’m just sleepy.”
“Cheol is working us to death.”
Except it isn’t the Tower working you to death. The Tower isn’t putting you to work at all. He is actually staunchly avoiding you, letting the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate wield you like a weapon of vengeance instead.
Yoon Jeonghan takes aim at his enemies often these days.
Vengeance. That is what your stepbrother had called it when he started gathering his list of soon-to-be-dead in his office. Vengeance for his mother’s murder, vengeance for trying to take out the Choi Syndicate, vengeance for anyone who had anything to do with any of it.
It isn’t traditionally the Wisdom’s job to dole out punishment and retribution, but Jeonghan is still actively looking for how the Kim family discovered the Yoon family safehouse, something that could have only come from inside.
Which means the Kim family have a Watcher inside the Choi Syndicate, someone with access to the inner circle. Someone you trust someone you know, someone who-
Anger begins to twist your insides again. Hansol sees the change in you, his eyebrows creasing as he looks down at where you lay on his chest. Instead of looking at him directly, you press your cheek to his chest and close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, trying to let it ground you.
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
No. “Yes.”
You don’t dare look at him because you think Hansol sees right through you. You’ve never hidden anything from him, and you don’t quite know why you do now. Why you pretend that you’re not eroding inside, why you hide the ancient anger that becomes so raw that you can’t stand it.
Shame.
Shame that you cannot get rid of this feeling inside of you. Shame that you’ve never felt like this. Shame that you don’t know how to tell him what you’re feeling how to articulate that you feel wrath so intense that it makes you suffocate, makes you see red, makes you-
“I gotta go,” Hansol says softly. You cling to him a little tighter reflexively. His laugh vibrates through you, followed by a heavy sigh. “We’ll be okay, right?” That makes you look up at him sharply. His face is serious, eyes dark. “We’ve been through shit before. This stuff with the Syndicate war - we’ll be fine?”
“Of course we will.”
It feels like a lie.
Carefully, he extracts you from him. You don’t want to let him go - you never do. But you peel yourself from him anyway, trailing after him as he goes down to the second flood of the house into your padlocked room. You can’t bring yourself to part from him yet, silently handing him a gun over the counter and running your hands along the inseams of his jacket to make sure he has what he needs.
It’s a bit of a ritual. Usually, you’d be doing it together. As Rooks of the Choi Syndicate, you and Hansol have unique jobs. Collecting debts, reminding people of their debts, and applying pressure are the main responsibilities of your positions.
Applying pressure is a gentle way to put it. You find what makes people weak, and then you hurt it until they’re begging you to stop. You salt their wounds, you kick them when they’re down, you make good on their promises. It’s work that requires an inability to feel guilt and a willingness to go however far the Tower needs you to go.
You and Hansol are good at that. Minji had trained you to be good at that, becoming two of the best assets for the Syndicate - especially now that it was a time of Syndicate war where the Chois were facing down the Kim and Yong families simultaneously. Now was the time to apply pressure and to ensure that everyone who had promised to be loyal to the Choi Syndicate was keeping their promises - especially now that Seungcheol had stepped into his father’s role.
Syndicate war makes people unsettled. It’s a time of uncertainty, especially among the city officials and law enforcement trying to assert control over the Syndicate families. While the Syndicates hold no political power in the city, they have wealth, assets and connections, making them very competent and powerful puppeteers.
Ensuring that those who threw in their bets with the Choi family still intended to do so is paramount. As is eliminating anyone who so much as thinks about switching sides, undermining the Tower, or trying to leverage the conflict for their gain.
Hansol stops at the doorway to kiss you goodbye before he leaves. It’s soft and lingering, like he would rather be raked over hot coals than go do whatever errand Seungcheol is sending him on. You don’t blame him. There aren’t that many people in the family that do what the two of you do, and Hansol is the Rook that Seungcheol trusts the most, his brother by bond - and by blood, though most didn’t know that.
“Will you be home tonight?” Hansol mutters the question against your lips, unwilling to part from you just yet. He tastes like vanilla chapstick, lips soft and supple. You shake your head and he sighs. “Alright. Let me know when you leave here.”
“Yeah.”
He kisses you again and steps away. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
When the door shuts behind Hansol and you’re left to your own devices, the wrath begins to stir again.
-
Sickly sweet incense hangs in the air as you near the lounge. A beaded curtain separates the main hall from the lounge beyond, parting with a soft, clicking hiss as you slide through the strands. The cloying scent of incense is far more intense in the room, accompanied by the smell of something sweet burning.
Pink, velvet couches crowd around a small table. On the table is a smattering of bottles, a pipe with half burn resin in it, a spilled bag of frosbyte, and a handful of cash. Your boots stain the carpet with mud as you tread to one of the couches, throwing yourself across one as you wait.
“Be with you in a minute,” a soft, feminine voice comes from beyond another beaded curtain.
While you wait, you look around the room. There’s a small personal bar shoved in the corner with miscellaneous brands of liquor. In a room as cheap as this one, there are no holograms or high-tech lights to entrance patrons - just a shitty disco ball that barely refracts the light with some music skipping as the internet goes in and out over the speakers.
At the soft clack of the beaded curtains opening, you drop your gaze to the back of the room where the room’s renter comes through. At first, she enters the room with a coy smile, the silk robe falling off of her shoulder to show milky white skin.
The second she sees you, she tries to turn on her heel and go back to the room.
“Leaving so soon, Rosalind?”
Rosalind stops her retreat immediately. Like the perfectly practiced entertainer she is, she spins and fixes you with a plastic smile. You’re no whore, but you know a whore’s smile when you see one. She approaches you with a lazy gait, appearing at ease, but when she sits, it's a hairsbreadth too far away and there is a slight pinch in her shoulders.
“Nonsense,” she assures you, dropping the soft affectation in her voice to her heavily accented, naturally voice. “I just didn’t wanna wear this fuckin’ wig if its just you.”
Lie.
“You know I love the black hair,” you agree. She has on a silvery wig now, giving her the illusion she’s some sort of moon deity. There’s a shimmer to her skin that makes her ethereal in the right light, but with the shitty disco ball, it looks tawdry. “How’ve you been?”
“Business is slow. You Syndicate-types have everyone up in arms.” Leaning forward, she gestures to the abandoned pipe on the table. “You mind?”
“By all means.”
You watch her as she picks up the pipe. Her hands shake a little, either from the shitty resin she keeps smoking or from the anxiety of seeing you sitting in her lounge. It could be either, it could be both. She lights the end of the pipe and inhales, coughing brutally for a second, the wet sound of her lungs a result of smoking low grade shit.
After a few more tugs and another coughing fit where her eyes water, she puts the resin down, leaning back to spread her arms along the back of the couch. “What can I do for you, Angel girl?”
“Nothing. Just checking in on you.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not officially under the banner of the Choi Syndicate and I’m fine with that. But you’ve helped me in the past - I like to ensure that those who help me stay protected.”
Her mouth twitches upward. “Are you getting sweet on me?”
“I’m always sweet on you.” Your gaze sweeps the room. “If you did want to be under the Choi banner, I could give you better accommodations, you know.”
“I don’t like to be controlled by the Syndicates.”
“So you’ve always said.”
Leaning your head against the back of the couch, you sigh. Looking up at the ceiling, your eyes trace the water and smoke stains. This room really is a piece of shit, but it’s belonged to Rosalind since before you were an official Rook under Choi Moojin, and then Choi Seungcheol.
There used to be a sort of charm to the room. You always thought it looked like one of those cheap collages that Baby put together in her mood boards with white lace, red velvet, plasticky hearts and quotes from all of the romance movies that she liked. It had always felt nostalgic.
Now you see it for what it really is - desperate to be something it's not.
Your fingers drum on the couch. “You’ve always admired your independence,” you eventually say. Rosalind watches you, finally at ease. “I admire that about you. I didn’t have much independence growing up.”
“I don’t think most Choi’s do.”
“I’m not a Choi.”
“You’re practically married to one.” You cut your eyes over to Rosalind and she grins. “Yeah, I know about the boy.”
“Of course you do. You know a lot of shit.”
“That's why you’re so sweet on me.”
“Yeah.” You laugh airly. “It is.”
Silence stretches between the two of you. From down the hall, you can hear the heavy grunt of a man fucking into something. In a proper brothel, you’d never have to hear the sounds of anyone else fucking - unless that thing was specifically requested.
“When did you tell the Kims where Minji’s safehouse was?” You ask, turning to fix your gaze on Rosalind. Her smile drops. “Since I’m so sweet on you I thought you’d be willing to ask.”
“I don’t know where Yoon Minji’s safe house is. I didn’t like the bitch but I’ve never sold her out.”
“Hm.”
You look back up at the ceiling, feeling eerily like you’re at a therapist appointment. You’d started going as a bit of a joke with Jeonghan, wondering what would happen if you told her snatches of your life. You leave out the murder, of course, but you’re pretty sure she knows.
The thing your therapist is most interested in is your relationship with Hansol, asserting that you’re codependent. You’re not entirely interested in what it means or that it’s bad. Of course you’re codependent on Hansol - there is no one else in the world you want or would rather trust.
And yet you’re here, on a rampage that he is unaware of.
“You know, Rosalind,” You say airly. “I would believe you except… I have a really good instinct for this shit. It’s what makes me good at my job, and it’s why you always respected me.”
For a second, she doesn’t answer. Then, she changes her tone of voice, earnest. “I would never sell out Yoon Minji, Angel. I don’t want the Chois as an enemy.”
“There it is again.” You sit up and point at her. “Do you know that when you lie, you take a tiny little breath right before? Like someone might do right before they jump from a cliff.”
“I’m not lyin-”
“Lie again and I will cut off a fucking finger like that bitch Yoon Minji taught me.”
“Angel,” she begs, sliding off the couch to her knees. Her hands are rubbing on her thighs, shaking her head when she looks at you. “I’m telling you, I swear on my life.”
You stare at one another. Sweat gathers on Rosalind’s brow. The synthetic strands of her wig stick to her forehead. Her eyeshadow is smudged, her lipstick not done right, a little bit overlined. You see the glue holding the fake lashes to her waterline, the separation of the body glitter on her skin as she starts to sweat.
Clapping your hands on your thighs and standing, you announce, “I believe you.”
She nearly collapses with relief. “Really?”
“No, but it was funny to see how relieved you are. Soonyoung!”
A series of crashes echoes from the hall. The wall vibrates as someone gets knocked into it, followed by heavy footsteps. Soonyoung comes crashing through the beaded curtain, dragging a young woman by the hair after him. The tape over her mouth keeps most of the screams to muffled grunts as she twists in his hands, her nails wrapped around his wrist where she tries to get him to let go.
Rosalind lets out a sound like a wounded animal but she doesn’t dare move. Soonyoung throws the girl to your feet, sending her tumbling into the coffee table. Things fly off the surface, crashing into the already stained carpet.
Whimpering, the girl crawls away from you toward where Rosalind is kneeling, staring at her with an open mouth and tear-lined eyes. Before the woman can make it far, Soonyoung steps on her fingers, making her wail and thrash.
“Stop!” Rosalind screams, spittal flying. “Stop!”
“This is who the Kims offered to protect, right?” You ask Rosalind as Soonyoung applies more pressure to the woman’s fingers. She goes rigid with tension as the pain wracks her. “This is your daughter? Got into a nice ass school two weeks ago - a boarding school, even. All the way across the world.”
“Please,” Rosalind begs. “Please.”
“I thought to myself, Rosalind has had all this time to ask me to protect her kid. Never once asked the Chois to do it. And then suddenly she’s accepted into something you can’t afford so very far away… and I wondered. Who is this woman’s dad?”
“Angel, please.”
“No daddy on the birth certificate but… she looks so much like Kim Minchan’s niece. They have such pretty eyes in that family.”
Rosalind is openly weeping now, the sobs wracking her body. You stare at her and feel the ancient anger inside of you curl in pleasure, teeth clicking as you get ready to strike. The violent ocean that has manifested as your wrath is ready now, waters churning, waiting, hungry.
Slowly, you crouch down to Rosalind’s level, staring at her across the coffee table. “Who fucking told you where Yoon Minji’s safehouse was, Rosalind?”
She shakes her head. You look up at Soonyoung, who looks like the devil with his white-blonde hair and beady, black eyes. He leans on his foot, crushing the girl’s fingers under the toe of his boot. She screams, thrashing again. Surely they’re broken by now.
“Stop!”
“Tell me,” you coo, nodding sympathetically. “Tell me, Rosalind. Or I’m going to kill her in front of you. Alright? Tell me.”
Rosalind nods. Her makeup streams in black, inky tendrils down her face. She struggles to suck in a breath, coughing through her resin-ruined lungs. You watch with predatory stillness as she manages to suck in a breath, nodding to herself again.
“Jung Lan.”
You frown. “Jung Lan is dead. He was murdered protecting Choi Moojin.”
She shakes her head. “The son. Junior.”
Sucking in a breath, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are storming, the churning waters of his violence the same as the thrashing anger inside of you. It is, perhaps, the only time you’ve ever related to Kwon Soonyoung. He glances back to Rosalind, eyes narrowed.
“Tell me what he told you.”
“He didn’t tell me with the purpose of giving it to the Kims. Just ran his mouth while he was here. Said his old man deserved the house she was given, not Minji. Said it was in Cascade. That’s it. I swear that’s it. Please.”
You nod at Soonyoung and he lifts his foot from the young woman’s hand. Her fingers are crushed and bent at odd angles, bruised under the heavy weight of his foot. He looks at you and you give him a curt nod. Expressionless, he pivots and marches from the room, vanishing with a snap of beaded curtains.
Rosalind sags in relief, collapsing inward on herself as she sobs. Her daughter starts to crawl to her and you let her, watching the way she folds herself into her mother’s lap. The way you might fold into Minji’s lap, in another life.
In that life, where you were born to her, maybe, instead of the woman who gave birth to you. In another life where you and Jeonghan still had a fierce figure to lead you through the trenches of this fucked up mess. In another life where she wasn’t dead and you could lay your head in her lap to let her comb your hair.
It doesn’t exist - never existed. Even alive, you don’t think that was in your future for you and your stepmother. But she had made you tea and comforted you, had taught you how to weaponize what little skills you had, turned you into something that could protect Hansol no matter the cost.
“Thank you,” Rosalind whispers, crushing her daughter to her.
“For what?”
“For sparing her.”
When the first electric pulse of a gun being fired and screams come from down the hall, Rosalind looks at you, wide eyed. You grin, the rage taking shape on your face. “I didn’t.”
-
It’s dark when you get home. The clock floating above the holoscreen stand says it’s just past four in the morning, which is earlier than you thought you would get home. Every part of you is tired and dragging, each step weighed down more than the last.
Dissatisfaction follows you, haunting your every step. You feel the weight of its presence as you try to run away from it to the second floor, shoving it away. You feel no better after ridding the world from the woman who’d traded secrets, along with the entire establishment.
You don’t feel guilty. You’d done it eagerly and with Soonyoung’s help. They had deserved it, not only for betraying the Choi Syndicate, but for having the nerve to pretend to be neutral for all of these years, benefiting from servicing all three of the city’s main syndicates.
The problem with neutrality, though, is there’s no one to save you when death is on your doorstep.
None of it makes you feel better, though. You don’t feel justified. You don’t feel like you did a good job. It doesn’t feel like a box that has been checkmarked. Your anger asks for more, wants more, needs more.
Hansol is asleep in bed when you come in. He doesn’t stir, too heavily knocked out to sense you. Here in your home in the heart of the Choi Estate, there’s no reason to sleep light for fear of intruders. Here, in his home with you, he can be completely at ease.
You stare at him as you change into a sleep shirt, leaving nothing else on. He looks at peace, face completely relieved of the stress of his evening or the constant frown he’s started to wear around you. Hansol looks like his younger self when he sleeps, face swollen where it’s smushed against the pillow, mouth parted as he snores a bit.
When you crawl into bed, he stirs. He blinks those round, gentle eyes at you, immediately recognizing your home. His hands seek you, stretching across silky sheets to grab you by the hips and pull you close, needing your warmth. He smells like vetiver and petrichor, immediately soothing the unsettled feeling nipping at your heels.
It isn’t enough.
As Hansol’s eyes drift shut, planning to go back to sleep now that you’re here, you lean forward and press your mouth to his. You feel the question in the curve of his mouth for only a second before he relents and kisses you back, lips tired and slow, a little lazy.
You tangle your legs with his, hooking your knee behind his to pull him flush to you. He grunts, but goes with the flow, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, fingers tentative. You want more of him, need more of him. You want to drown in him until this - this whatever it is eats you alive and leaves nothing less.
Hansol senses your need because of course he does. He knows you better than anyone else in the world, and when your mouth turns desperate, he understands. Instead of asking questions, Hansol comes alive, rising up from sleep to lean over you and push you down into the mattress.
A soft sound leaves your mouth and he drinks it down, gentle mouth turning into bruising hunger.
Yes. It vibrates though you as his teeth scrape your bottom lip as he sucks on it gently. Yes. When he drags his nails up your thighs, scratching. Yes when he leans his weight into your hips, pinning you to the bed underneath.
This is part of why you love Hansol. He’s able to flip the switch he needs to meet you halfway, to offer whatever salve you need to the burn, whatever fire you need to rouse you. It’s an instinct of his, a calling that he answers every time.
You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close. His kisses are needy and messy, turning to more tongue and teeth than anything. You thread your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly. It earns a groan from him, his warm breath ghosting across your slick-bitten lips as he mouths across your jaw.
Hansol grabs your thigh and wraps it around his waist. You squeeze, pinning him to you while he lets go of your leg, hand drifting to your bare ass to squeeze generously. You tug his hair in response and his laughter comes out in a huff of air.
Attaching his mouth to your neck, Hansol slides his hands under your shirt. His palms are warm but you shiver at the feeling of his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. He drags the tips of his fingers along the curve of your breast, teasing and light.
“Don’t,” you growl, fingers going tight in his hair. “Not tonight.”
He bites you sharply, making you moan and arch into him. His tongue soothes the sting of his teeth and you feel his grin against your skin as his mouth drifts toward your shoulders.
Hansol listens, though. Instead of teasing you with his feather-light touch, he flicks his thumb back and forth over a nipple, making you shiver. Being in his hold feels so good, the violence of the night fading to the background as Hansol’s hands and mouth numb the anger.
After over a decade together, there is nothing he doesn’t know about you. He knows the way you like to be kissed, the way you have a sensitive spot under your ear, attaching his mouth to it and sucking greedily. He knows you like to be scratched and bitten, that you need to feel nothing but him for a moment of peace.
Hansol peels the shirt off of you. You don’t even feel the chill of the room, just the heat of his hands turning you over to press your face down into the mattress, his teeth and lips on the back of your shoulder, his other hand hooking behind your knee to pull it upward and spread you open.
Your fingers dig into the mattress as Hansol sinks down, pressing kisses to your spine. It feels like you can’t stop shaking, only focused on the way his tongue darts out occasionally to taste your burning skin. His hands don’t stop either, squeezing the back of your thighs, skimming upward to gently squeeze your ass.
The ache for him is nearly unbearable by the time you feel the first, soft lick of his tongue on your cunt. You sigh, melting into the mattress as he prods lazily at your entrance before dragging back down to your clit. He knows exactly how to work you, mouth attaching to you and sucking leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to do this.
And he does, doesn't he? You and Hansol have whatever time is fated on this earth to spend together, so why should he rush? Why should he not enjoy the way you shake under the buzz of his mouth as he licks and sucks at you fervently, his hands running up and down the back of your thighs as he drags his nails along your skin.
Reaching back with one of your hands, you sink your fingers into his hair. Hansol hums appreciatively, the buzz of his mouth against your pussy making you moan his name. He’s messy with it, devouring you in a way that makes nothing else in the world matter. You writhe under him, face hidden in pillows, short of breath.
The muscles in your lower stomach start to squeeze and you feel the force of your orgasm coming. Hansol can tell by the sounds you make, his hands turning firm as he keeps you pried open at the thighs, pressing his face further into you.
Your fingers tighten in his hair and you come with gritted teeth, screaming into pillows that smell like him. He continues to mouth at you, eager to work you through the full length of your orgasm. It sends you into overdrive, muscles twitching, legs shaking, lungs barely able to take in a breath.
With a final, messy kiss to your pussy, he peels away, taking under a minute to shed himself of his clothes. Heaving, you lift your face from the pillows, feeling sticky drool on your chin to turn over your shoulder and look at him.
You can barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you can just make out his shape as he shuffles to you on his knees, hands pumping his cock slowly. You make a desperate sound and he huffs - laughter, you know. He slides a hand underneath your thigh again, hitching one knee up high on the bed while the other is pressed flat.
Hansol keeps your leg pinned there, stretching you open, muscles expanding as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance. His name escapes your mouth in a whine, feeling the way your walls spasm around him as he sinks in. The position has him hitting deep. You feel him everywhere, feel the way he invades your senses.
“S’good,” you whisper when you feel his hips press against your ass. Your cunt flutters around him, trying to accommodate for the stretch. “Fuck.”
He hums in response, keeping one hand on your thigh to pry you open and the other on your hip to hold you in place as he retracts, the slide of his cock sending your eyelids fluttering.
Hansol sets a hard pace from the jump, each one of his thrusts targeted and on point. He punches the air from your lungs and you become a panting mess under him, barely able to breathe. He puts his weight into it, leaning over you to stretch your leg higher up on the bed and crush you to the mattress the way you like, the way you need.
It feels safe here, jolting under the weight of him as he fucks into you hard, his grip tightening on you as you whine and clench around him. You dig your fingers into the sheet, twisting and tearing as if it can release the tension coiling inside you, begging to be let out.
For a brief moment, he slows his pace, pulling away from you. Your eyes snap open, ready to fire off a question when you feel him pry you open to spit onto the tight rim of your ass. You suck in a tight breath of air and hear him laugh before he presses the pad of his thumb to the ring of muscles there.
“Oh,” you breathe, melting. He doesn’t press his finger in, just keeps it firm on the seam of your ass, adding pressure and stimulation that sends you into a thoughtless daze.
“Yeah,” he grunts, picking up his pace again, cock hitting deep. “Oh.”
You don’t have a response - know that he’s teasing you, having sensed your brief moment of annoyance in the split second it took him to add another element of pleasure. You know Hansol will never disappoint you here wrapped in sheets that stick to your sweaty skin, sheets that smell like him, but you’ve always been quick to protest, quick to strike first.
It doesn’t bother him. Nothing about you bothers him after this long together. Not you coming home and waking him up, needing to be fucked into the mattress to forget the hate coiling inside you. Not you being utterly useless tonight, letting him do all the work as he brings you to the brink of coming again. Not you reaching back to grab the wrist of the hand he has on your thigh, your nails digging in so hard you make him bleed.
Hansol takes it all. Takes your shaking orgasm, takes the way you moan his name, takes his time as he fucks you through your high before he drops the hold he has on your leg to hold your hips to the bed instead. Takes the breath from your lungs when his thrusts turn from hard to brutal, hips crashing into you, forcing each breath from your lungs.
The world goes blank. There’s just you laying in a bed that smells like petrichor and vetiver, breath coming to a screeching halt as your face presses into the mattress. He keeps you pressed there, a hand sliding to the middle of your back to keep you pinned, the other working the clenching rim of your ass.
If you could make a sound, you might scream. Instead, you shudder under him, coming violently and without air, ears ringing and blood rushing. It’s exactly what you were looking for, a specific high that only Hansol can give you.
Eventually, he rolls you over and you gulp in air. You’re barely aware of anything, floating in the dizzy space between. A hand laces with yours, squeezing your fingers. You squeeze back, letting Hansol’s grip keep you tether as you gain your bearings.
Slowly, you come back to the present. You blink your eyes open, despite how heavy they feel. You could fall asleep any moment, spent and toeing the edge of the nothing sleep always brings. Hansol is looking at you though, a look in his eye that sparks a little life in you.
“What?” you ask, voice barely above a raspy whisper. “What’s wrong?”
Hansol’s hair is damp with sweat, pressed flat to his forehead. His eyes are dark and simmering with something unreadable but intense.
“I should ask you that,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “What’s going on?”
The question sours your efforts to forget immediately. His concern shatters the illusion that you’d let him fuck into you, removes the numbing you’d practically crawled into his lap for. With his worry comes the sharp stab of reality, all the anger and wrath and ugliness that you keep trying to shove down rearing its monstrous head.
“Nothing, Hansol.” Your words crack like a whip and you let go of his hand to roll over, turning your back to him. “I was just stressed.”
“So tell me what you’re stressed about.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we have stressful jobs.”
“You are not stressed over your job. Don’t sell me that. You have to be honest with me. You said we’d get through this shit together. You gotta talk to me, Angel.”
Your heart starts to pound in your chest. You are suddenly painfully awake, body riddled with the tension Hansol had just gotten rid of minutes ago. Sweat slicks your skin anew, but this time from the anxiety of how close you feel to tipping over.
“Can we just go to sleep?”
He scoffs. “I was asleep until you crawled in here looking at me like you were going to die. Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out. You were quite literally just inside me.”
“Stop twisting what I’m fucking saying. I’m asking you to be open with me and no amount of you being a bitch is going to make me shut up. I know that’s what you want.”
As always, Hansol is absolutely correct. He doesn’t miss. It’s what makes him such a good Rook, but makes him a good life partner. And he is your life partner. You’ve never said any vows at an alter and there’s no ring on your finger, but Hansol has been your soulmate and your partner since long before he pulled you out of that bathtub.
And here you are hiding from him, crawling to him to beg him to numb you without any reason why, taking but not giving, demanding but not paying him back. Here you are trying to piss him off into silence, being as frustrating as possible to get him to give up and decide he doesn’t feel like fighting this battle.
He knows it. You know it.
A fissure appears on your resolve. Hansol says nothing, his words doing all the work for him as you mull them over. He doesn’t have to press you further - he knows the blow he’s dealt has worked, waiting in heavy silence as the facade you’ve built over the last few weeks starts to crumble to show him the ugly thing you’ve been keeping to yourself.
“I’m angry,” you whisper. It comes out shaky. Scared. He doesn’t dare breath or move, letting you pour through the cracks he’s made. “I’m angry and I don’t know why and it’s like I can’t stop being angry. I feel it like it’s a thing that is alive, like I can’t get rid of it.”
You suck in a shuddering breath, feeling the way you’ve started shaking. You zone out as you speak, vision narrowing to a specific point of darkness in the bedroom. “I feel hate like I’ve never felt before and I swear it’s going to eat me alive. It’s like - it feels corrosive and like I can’t satiate it but the only thing that offers any relief is killing anyone who had to do with Minji’s death.”
Hansol shifts behind you. He doesn’t move closer but you feel his hand move across the bed. He presses his palm flat to the base of your spine. It grounds you, makes it easier for you to continue, “I don’t get it. It’s not like she was my mom. She didn’t - she didn’t give birth to me but she didn’t try to drown me. She didn’t see me as something to be disposed of. She… saw me and embraced me, and thought I was useful. Liked me.”
Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.
Minji’s words left an impression on you. You think about them often, letting them replace the bible vowels your mother used to hiss as you. So many of your memories of a motherly figure are Minji teaching you how to read body language, Minij showing you how to look for the subtleties of deception in financial documents, communications, miscellaneous tidbits.
“My dad was my god,” you whisper, voice quaking. “But Minji - she was an entity. She taught me how to fight back and keep what I wanted most protected. And they just… killed her in her bed, Hansol.” You realize you’er crying but now you can’t stop. “They broke into her house and killed her in her bed like she was a fucking dog and not Yoon Minji, the Wisdom of the fucking Choi Syndicate.”
Hansol’s hand drags up and down your spine, slow and hypnotizing. You close your eyes, violently shivering as everything that’s been growing inside of you rushes out in a tide you can’t dam. “All because some stupid fucking kid ran his mouth to the wrong whore. Do you know how angry that makes me? She should have been safe, and a fucking nobody is why she died!”
Instead of comforting you with words, Hansol deems it’s safe enough to grab you. He pulls your back to his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder to bury his face in your neck. He’s warm and he feels safe, arms wrapping around you as you seethe.
“I hate that I’m angry,” you hiss. “It feels so fucking stupid. People die all the time and I don’t care but this one bothers me and it makes me feel ridiculous. Makes me feel stupid - she was Jeonghan’s mom not mine. But I want anyone who had anything to do with it to die, Hansol. I need them to.”
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll kill them.”
Hansol says it so simply. Because of course to him it is simple: you need to feed this desire for revenge or it will kill you, thus it needs to be done. Of course he doesn’t think it’s stupid, doesn’t think you’re being irrational. To Hansol, it doesn’t matter what you want - he wants it too.
To be loved by Hansol is to be loved entirely, without ifs, without buts, without any stipulations. He takes you exactly as you are, and it makes you break in his hold. He’s the only other person in this world who wants you exactly as you’ve been created.
And maybe that’s why you were so afraid of letting him in to see this. You’ll never get rid of that tiny, irrational fear that he’ll decide he’s seen enough. Nothing you’ve both been through has been easy, and loving you comes with so many obstacles that you don’t know how he doesn’t get tired of overcoming them.
“You’ll have whatever vengeance you need,” Hansol promises. He nuzzles to you closer. “I’d do anything for you.”
Once upon a time, your mother thought her god superseded everything. She swore her god was omnipotent, that he would save her and punish the evil around her. He’d never done anything for her, though. Never answered her prayers, never struck down anyone who raised a hand against her, never opened up the skies to cleanse the earth from evil.
Your god answered your prayers. He struck down those who wished you harm, he erased those who stood in your way. He loved you and rewarded you for your love in turn. He cleansed you. Protected you. Allowed no weapon formed against you to prosper.
Hansol was your god, and you were his vengeful angel.
SYNDICATE ROLES
Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate
TAG LIST
@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @Burnt-horizons @ateez-atiny380 @abibliolife @idubiluranghae @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @coralpenguinbeard @gyubakeries @archivistworld @hipsdofangirl @asyre @aksweet7 @bunnybeaer @valenhui @fxckinbreathe @agustamygdala7 @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @SecretFoxBear @babycaratdeul @aiforyuu @imujings
More Posts from Swanprincess16 and Others
what's the expiration date on love?
Jisoo: I made this friendship bracelet for you!
Jihoon: Ah, you know, I’m not really a jewelry person.
Jisoo: You don’t have to wear it—
Jihoon: No I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.
unintentional
{wonwoo x fem! y/n}
quick description: friends to lovers. you and wonwoo both get accepted into the same collage. you both have been friends for a long time and decide to room together for collage after wonwoo gets a girlfriend he starts ignoring you, but why?
word count 5.1k
18+
[warning of content] smut, jerking off, self pleasure, drinking, oral sex, unprotected sex, pet names (baby, princess) profanity, creampie.
College dorms were a topic you didn’t want to talk about. You hated the idea of them having to share a room with a stranger?? When you got accepted into your dream college there was no way you could afford to rent a place without facing the same problem….strangers, that was until your best friend Wonwoo got accepted too. You and him have been friends since middle school he was the quiet lid and you were a nerd but you saw his Pokémon backpack and immediately knew you needed to be his friend. You both decided to take a gap year before going to college, you didn’t have financial help from your parents so you worked hard.
After jumping up and down with excitement when he told you he had been accepted too the idea sparked that maybe you won’t have to live with a stranger he wasn’t too sure about the idea since he was unemployed but that could change! And you knew his social anxiety was bad, almost worse than yours.
“A one-bedroom apartment would be the cheapest, one of us could take the bedroom and we can turn the living room into a bedroom and if we both get jobs within walking distance of the university we could take the bus to school and walk to work I believe that this is a perfectly thought out plan that would work in both of our favors. Wonwoo please please please”
Wonwoo was very smart like smart so he did the math on if this would work and we wouldn’t drown in debt lucky for you it would be cutting it close with groceries and extra spending money but it can work. You held in your pure excitement and whipped out your laptop to look at apartments.
“hey y/n. This one looks like what you were looking for except better it has a loft and a bedroom so we would still have a living room the loft goes above the kitchen, and the kitchen looks pretty nice too, not that you would be cooking since you’re terrible at it”
You punch him in the arm and take the laptop to look at the price.
“Hey, this is lower than our max price too!! Did you look at the surrounding shops or any place that would hire college students?”
Wonwoo takes back the laptop and adjusts his glasses while looking on Google Maps at the surrounding buildings.
“There are a few restaurants a tea shop and what looks like a coffee and bake shop”
“Bro they’re gonna so want me with my espresso experience, maybe they’ll hire you too! but I don’t know if I want to live and work with you that might be too much for me I might O.D from too much Wonwoo y-know?”
He gives you a side eye that sends a chill down your spine
“or we could work together because I could never get enough of you”
You give him a sarcastic smile.
“anyways… we should start saving now you have the money from your parents and I’ve been saving from work lets send an application for the apartment”
You both send in a few more applications for other places as well a month goes by you receive emails for the confirmation of tours Wonwoo goes to half while you go to the others in the end you both fall in love with the first apartment you look at the one with the loft and a bedroom it was so cheap and perfect up in the loft there was a whole wall of outlets so Wonwoo takes the loft for his gaming set up (thank god because you wanted your full privacy the loft was cute but the open walls made it feel too out in the open)
Time flew by and just like that you both were moving in together, you were a little nervous since you hear horror stories about friendships being ruined while moving in together where the two end up hating each other from seeing them so much but you had a feeling that wouldn’t happen Wonwoo and you both liked your alone time with the two separate rooms and getting jobs at separate places things seemed to be looking perfect you worked at the cafe and Wonwoo is working as a waiter for a nicer restaurant he has to take the bus but it pays well so it’s worth the journey.
———————————————————————
“Wonwoo please can we host a housewarming party it doesn’t even have to be a lot of people just my close friends and your close friends more of a get-together than a party. I KNOW that Jeonghan has been dying to see this place since we moved in and since we’re all unpacked and-“
Wonwoo cuts you off.
“forget it y/n you know how I hate social gatherings. Jeonghan can come over eventually, we don’t need a bunch of people in our apartment to trash the place and make our neighbors hate us right away”
You cross your arms and pout, but after seeing that stern look on your arms pull your victim card.
“I was going to invite my girls anyway because I miss them. I was offering the party so you would have your friends too. I was just trying to be nice so you wouldn’t feel awkward I know you don’t talk to them. But when they come over we can just be in my room and not disturb you it’s okay”
Wonwoo huffs and pinches his nose bridge.
“fine”
You start jittering with excitement.
“thank you thank you thank you. I’m gonna text the girls.”
———————————————————————
The morning of the party you and Wonwoo went to the store you get alcohol he turned 21 a few months ago and you were turning 21 soon but you weren’t there yet so he had to go in alone but you gave him a list.
1. 2x bottles of pink Whitney
2. 3x packs of mikes hard lemonade
3. 1x bottle of Smirnoff vodka (raspberry)
While he was getting the alcohol you went to the grocery store for snacks and cups.
When everyone was there you and Wonwoo gave them a very professional tour it was very short since the apartment is very small. But made things easier for you two. You all start playing drinking games when you hear a knock on the door, you open it to see DK one of Wonwoo’s friends he is late but he is also holding two bags full of Chinese take-out.
“dk you are an angel sent from heaven”
“sorry for being late, thought I’d bring some food”
He said with a big smile while walking in.
After lots of eating and lots of drinking DK and Jeonghan went home, Mingyu stayed over, they played video games up in his loft and you and your friends all went to your room. Soyeon and Yuqi get comfortable on the floor while you and Yeji decide to share your bed it was a queen so there was more than enough room.
“hey y/n”
You hear Yuqi say from the floor.
“what’s up?”
“don’t you think it’s a little weird moving in with a boy? I mean I know you guys are just friends but at the end of the day you are a straight single woman and he’s a straight single man who knows when animal instincts kick in” They all start giggling at her comment.
“oh my god I can’t even think about doing something like that with him, I've known him for so long his this gamer nerd and I'm positive he sees me as a geek”
You turn over so your back faces them giving off the ‘im done with this conversation’ energy but Yeji had a comment.
“yeah except you’re both hot now”
“Yeji oh my god you did not just call Wonwoo hot”
“he is though!? Girl are you blind???”
“I’m going to bed goodnight, no more of this stupid talk”
The next morning all the girls went home super early you slept in a little but woke up to the smell of food, your nose followed you to the kitchen and found two tall tan beefy shirtless men in your kitchen cooking.
“what the fuck?”
They turn around and it’s Mingyu and Wonwoo, you knew Mingyu was buff because he’s constantly showing it off with his muscle tee’s and tank tops but you swear Wonwoo lives in hoodies and crewnecks it’s like they’re attached to him.
“oh good morning y/n”
Mingyu says with a smile. Wonwoo looks a little shocked to see you like he knows you’ve never seen him like this, like he’s been hiding he even gets a little flustered looking away and back to the food, Mingyu walks over to you.
“sleep well? We’re making breakfast do you want some?”
“oh um yeah I slept good and breakfast sounds great, thank you”
Mingyu was standing very close to you but you never felt intimidated by him his eyes are just so soft and it’s like there’s an imaginary tail wagging behind him at all times.
You went and sat on the couch and saw Wonwoo walk up to his loft and come back down fully clothed he was embarrassed you couldn’t help but wonder why he would be though like if you have a body like that show it off!! When Mingyu brought you over breakfast you paused him from leaving.
“hey wait, do you and Wonwoo go to the gym together or something? Because how come I had no idea he was built? I did notice that when I punch his arm when he's pissing me off it does hurt my fist but I didn’t think anything of it”
“oh yeah! We go all the time. He didn’t tell you?”
“no…. he didn’t. This whole time I thought he was a bit chubby. Like not in a bad way in a cute way but not in a cute way like like him yk but kind of endearing I guess?? That’s not the point he’s always wearing those oversized hoodies and sweats how was I supposed to know?? He was a chubby kid too”
Mingyu suppresses his laughter and walks back to the kitchen.
You can’t help but still stare at Wonwoo, for so long you had no idea he had been going to the gym, his back was so perfectly sculpted and when he turned around his abs were so defined, it was just so shocking.
———————————————————————
When school started you and Wonwoo barely saw each other, you’re classes started early and he went late and on the weekends you both worked, sometimes you would see each other in passing but it was always just a small “hey” or “how are you” never an actual conversation. You were just about to leave for work when Wonwoo came down from his loft, you didn’t even know he was home.
“hey Wonwoo, we should go get dinner i haven’t been able to talk to you in so long, like I live with you, I go to school with you, but I never see you. I miss you”
“oh. yeah, I can look at my schedule probably not till next week I have a date for my one day off this week”
“a date? You have a date!!?”
“is it that surprising y/n?”
“n-no of course not I mean-, I’m just hurt you didn’t tell me sooner”
“well I’m telling you now”
“I guess, just text me when you have a day we’ll figure it out”
It makes sense that Wonwoo has a date he’s sweet, respectful, and surprisingly built. I don’t know why I'm upset about this date that he has. You dated a guy in high school for a while maybe it’s because he’s never dated anyone or maybe he has and just didn’t tell you would have even told me if it wasn’t for today?? “fuck why am I so upset.”
You and Wonwoo never ended up having that dinner, your schedules never aligned and he ended up going on more dates with that girl he even asked you to spend the night at a friend's so he could bring her home!? if you weren’t pissed about this before you’re pissed now. When you came home she was still over.
“oh sorry, I thought you’d be gone by now, I’m y/n”
She was pretty. You take your time examining her, she is shorter than you, slimmer too.
“oh my god, Wonwoo told me about you! You’re so pretty and tall. I would hug you but sorry I'm a little sweaty right now”
You stare at her in shock, why is she sweaty!? Wonwoo walks in wearing a muscle tee and sweats.
“oh hey y/n we just got back from the gym”
Oh, thank god. Wait they’re close enough to be going to the gym together? You and Wonwoo never go to the gym together.
Another month went by without seeing Wonwoo he was completely occupied with her. until he out of nowhere Wonwoo started staying home doing nothing but eat sleep and games, your winter break was coming up and you hadn’t talked about going home in fact you still haven’t talked at all even though he’s home all the time now.
It was a Saturday night both of you were off work it was fairly late and you were pacing your room “I’m tired of his silent treatment I'm gonna go talk to him” You storm out of your room and climb up to the loft, there he was in his gaming chair like always.
“Wonwoo”
He doesn’t answer.
“Wonwoo!!”
Still, no answer so you walk over to him and tap him on the shoulder he jumps a little under your touch, so he doesn’t hear you…he takes off his headphones and pauses his game.
“what’s up y/n?”
He looks up at you completely blank-minded.
“Are you serious right now”
“huh?”
“Wonwoo what is wrong with you, we live together, we go to school together, but I haven’t seen you in months did something happen and where did your girlfriend go i mean you were with her all the time so that was a good excuse for not seeing me but now there’s no excuse you’re just avoiding me”
You feel like you are about to cry his emotionless face while you’re expressing your feelings to him and all he does is just look at you.
“well say something Wonwoo don’t just stare at me”
He stands up out of his chair and moves over to his bed and takes a deep breath,
“I’m sorry y/n”
The apology was unexpected.
“the girl I was seeing…… she uh cheated on me so that’s why she’s not around anymore”
He puts his head down like he cannot look you in the eyes while saying this, you cannot believe she cheated on him.
“Wonwoo-“
He cuts you off.
“Please don’t feel bad, please. That’s why I didn’t say anything, I feel like it was my fault like I didn’t give her enough I didn’t satisfy her”
You crouch done onto your knees in front of him so you can look him in the eyes.
“Wonwoo don’t say that you’re so much better than any man I’ve ever met you’re kind, respectful, loyal, and fuck you are hot okay. So don’t you ever doubt yourself because any girl you’re with is lucky to have you she just doesn’t see that”
He looks at you his, eyes glossy. You place your hand on his cheek
“you’re wrong,” he says a tear streaming down his cheek.
“What?”
“you’re wrong, I wasn’t giving her my all when my mind was on another girl”
You take your hands off of his face taken back.
“oh” is all you manage to say.
“fuck, y/n I can explain”
“it’s fine you don’t need to you have your feelings I mean she still cheated on you that’s her fault, she could have talked to you about her emotions instead of going out and fucking some guy… so um who’s the girl who owns your heart.”
Wonwoo holds his breath you can tell he’s thinking hard and thinking for a while.
“I- it’s unimportant”
“Wonwoo you need to talk to me more you keep pushing me away. We’ve been friends forever i know you’re not the most comfortable all the time with me but you’ve always been able to tell me if something’s wrong, that’s why I’m here”
Wonwoo stands up off the bed.
“I can’t tell you this”
He tries to walk away but you grab ahold of his leg and wrap your arms and legs around his leg to hold him in place
“NO!!”
“y/n what are you doing”
“I’m not going to let you ignore me anymore i can’t we haven’t talked in months i won’t let you get away from me I won't let you shut me out again”
“This isn’t about that I'm not shutting you out i just can’t tell you this”
Wonwoo tries to get away from you grunting and struggling and dragging you while you still latched onto his leg. he try’s to take your hands off of his leg but he trips and falls over you, you lay beneath him his hands on opposite sides of you, you notice how flustered he gets and heavy his breath is you look at him in the eyes looking back and forth between each eye you two are so close you’ve never been this close to him you can see each line on his skin. You wrap your arms around his neck and wrap your legs around his waist clinging to him like a monkey.
“you’re insane what are you doing?”
“I’m not letting go till you tell me.
“fuck.”
“why is it so hard for you to open up” your voice is muffled since your face is pushed into his arm from clinging to him.
“I’ll tell you if you let go I can’t think the way you latched onto me”
“promise you won’t run away”
“Promise”
You let go and you’re beneath him again so you move out from under him and lean against the bed and he sits on the floor cris-crossed.
“so who is she? Is it someone I know? Is that why it’s so hard I promise I won't tell”
“y/n you’re so stupid”
“well that’s rude”
He bites his bottom lip and just stares at you.
“y/n… I like you, now please don’t say anything that you don’t mean because I’m only telling you since you’re relentless for an answer I couldn’t lie, I know you don’t feel the same way and our friendship means so much to me truly”
You were shocked, this was the last thing you thought he was gonna say, but you were confused you’d never thought about him like that but every time he was with that girl you were jealous and it made you think. He is an amazing person and he is everything you look for in a man… so why not him?
“okay but at least say something because now I’m nervous”
“I don’t know what to say Wonwoo. I love you I do, I've just never thought about being anything more than friends, it’s so cliché girls and guys can’t be friends i was always so focused on beating the stereotypes. But when you were with her I admit I was jealous. She got to see you in ways I’ve never seen you, she was taking you from me. But again that could be only platonic for me. I’m a little confused right now I need to think okay?”
You stand up and he stands up too, you give him a small hug then walk away. You go to your room to think. You stay up super late just thinking and thinking and thinking. And think some more you try and picture yourself with him what would it be like? Going on dates, holding hands, kissing… your face gets flushed just thinking about him in that way. You think about doing more things with him what it would feel like to have your bodies together warm and sweaty in dark rooms, how he would touch you how his large frame would tower over you. Turns you on just thinking about him like that. You lock your door and crawl into bed pulling down your pj shorts and underwear circling your clit, you were so wet just thinking about him you place two of your fingers into yourself imagining him hey we’re Wonwoos imagining his large dominant hands you let out a moan without even realizing. If just thinking about him got you off this much you were sure you liked him more than just a friend. You needed him.
———————————————————————
It was the last week of school before winter break and so you were both cramming for exams you didn’t see each other till Friday night. He was in the kitchen making ramen when you got home he noticed you and smiled.
“want some?”
“yeah that would be great I’m starving”
You both eat in silence the only noise being the clinking of the chopsticks against the bowels. Till you clear your throat when you are finished.
“so, how were your finals?”
Wonwoo says breaking the silence.
“stressful but I think I did well”
“that’s good i think I did okay, so um we never talked about the break do we want to go home?”
“I was going to go down the 23rd wait a bit, what were you thinking?”
It was strange being able to talk to him so normally after your last talk together you wanted to tell him so bad how you felt but you were scared what if the relationship doesn’t last will you be able to go back to how it used to be? You’re more than just friends now you live together. A breakup could ruin everything.
“y/n. you look lost in thought you didn’t answer my question”
“oh! Right, I was planning on going down the 21st, are you finished with your bowl?”
“yeah I'm done”
You take your bowl and his and walk over to the sink to wash them the room grows awkward the sense of waiting is present you can tell he is waiting for your answer. You finished washing the bowls and put them to the side, let out a small sign and turned around to face him.
“Wonwoo.”
“hmm?”
“I didn’t have to think too hard about my feelings for you, they were clear that I like you, you’re everything I’ve ever looked for in a man and more you’ve always been by my side but my only worry is this, how close we are right now. You’re my best friend, we’ve gone through so much together and I would never want to ruin what we have. We live together for fuck sake.”
All he does is grin and walk over to you.
“you like me?”
“didn’t you hear the rest of what I said this is something we need to seriously think about”
He walks closer to you and puts his hands on your waist.
“I’ve thought about it. Many times, all the time”
He slowly walks you to the back of the counter hands still on your waist. You’re heart is pounding his eyes are stern not his usual soft doe eyes they’re cat-like and focused you’ve never seen him like this, it was so hot.
“Wonwoo,” you say in a soft voice you don’t even know why you said his name maybe you weren’t sure if this was real or not.
“yeah?”
You don’t respond you can feel him getting close to you trapping your body beneath him one of his hands move from your waist onto the counter him peering down at you was so intimidating yet you felt safe.
“I want you to say it again but with more meaning, tell me how you feel”
Wonwoo was so close you could feel his breath as he spoke.
“I- Wonwoo I like you a lot”
“yeah?” he says with a smile then leaning in and kissing you softly and pulling away leaving you wanting more.
“you know, the night after our talk I heard this noise it was a little loud I wasn’t sure what it was though so I climbed down my loft and saw you were in your room when I heard the noise again”
His hand moves to the side of your neck grazing your chin with his thumb.
“do you want to tell me what you were doing or who you were thinking about while doing it?”
You bite your lip and look up at him and look away flushed feeling embarrassed.
“aw don’t be embarrassed baby I’m just sad I couldn’t help you. All you could do was think about me when I was just outside your room”
He leans in and whispers.
“your moans are so pretty, I bet they’re prettier when I’m fucking you for real though”
His voice was so deep and smooth it’s never like this it sounded like it was just melting. All you could do was stare at him and listen to him.
“cat caught your tongue?”
He goes into another kiss this time more passionate and possessive his hand still on your waist and the other on your neck his tongue meets your lips asking for permission to enter, and you give it to him. Your tongues intertwining with each other both getting desperate he pulls away and you whine at the sudden stop of contact. he only stops to take off his glasses and put them on the counter beside you then lifts you onto the counter grabbing ahold of your thigh and squeezing while going back into the kiss. You place your hand beneath his shirt and a groan from the back of his throat reacts to your touch. He moves your legs to either side of him so now he’s fully pressed up against you. You tug on his shirt wanting him to take it off, he pulls away again and takes off his shirt. When going back into the kiss he goes to your neck this time leaving soft wet kisses down your neck then takes off your sleep shirt, since it was your sleep shirt you didn’t have a bra on underneath. Wonwoo places his hand on your breast and softly brushes his thumb over your hard sensitive nipple, you moan quietly from his touch.
“so sensitive and we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet”
Both his hands are now on your thighs he strokes them up and down while what looks like he’s thinking.
“my bed? Or your bed?”
You’re still a little out of breath and you think for a moment.
“my bed is closer”
Wonwoo smiles picks you up off the counter and throws you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing and walks into your bedroom gets onto your bed them places you down. You start to take off your shorts when he stops you.
“patience”
Is all he says before leaning down on top of you and kissing you again, your fingers slide into his hair slightly pulling each time he pinches your nipple. he leaves a kiss trail down your neck onto your stomach and the waistband of your shorts. he pulls them off and spreads your legs you suddenly feel very bare. He kisses your folds then slides his index and middle finger into you, a gasp leaves your lips while he slowly pumping them in and out.
“is this what I was doing when you were touching yourself thinking about me?”
“it’s better-“ is all you managed to get out before he picks up his pace fucking you with his fingers.
You notice the bulge in his pants while it slightly rubs against your leg while he continues to do wonders with his fingers, he slightly curls them hitting your G spot and causing you to moan orgasm
“Wonwoo, take off your pants. I want to feel your dick inside me”
He pauses and grins taking his fingers out of you linking them clean and taking off his sweats along with his briefs, it was big and had girth, a drip of pre-cum on his tip, it’s not like you were a virgin you had a boyfriend your last two years of high school but this was different you’ve never wanted it this bad.
He pulls your legs closer to him and teases you, circling his tip around your hole.
“so wet for me princess”
He fully inserts himself into you as before he starts slow, one hand ahold of your leg while the other beside you keeping him up while he towers over you.
“fuck, you feel so good”
He picks up his pace leaning over you burying his face into your neck breathing heavily groaning and curing under his breath every time you pull his hair. he goes even faster thrusting into you, and the sound of moaning, clapping, and bed squeaks filling the room, wonwoo was so desperate for you your body’s were so close they were practically molding together.
“Wonu,” you say in between breaths “I’m close”
“me too princess, where do you want me to cum”
“in me….. I want you to cum in me”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m on the pill, I need you to fill me”
He smiles into your neck and bites down leaving a hickey, thrusting even faster than before a loud moan leaves your mouth as your walls clench around him cumming down his cock, he quickly cums right after you riding out his high fucking the cum right back into you. After pulling out he moves to the side of you, the room is hot and you are both sticky. You both lay on your bed panting.
“you can shower first,” Wonwoo says already standing.
You get up and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out of your bedroom still fully naked and into the bathroom. You could feel his eyes on you until you were completely out of his sight.
The bathroom quickly steams up from the hot water and you hop in and start rinsing off your body, your eyes were closed you didn’t even notice the presence behind you until you felt soapy hands down your back. You jump at first and quickly turn around to face him.
“oh my god Wonwoo you scared me”
After the fear leaves you realize that Wonwoo is in the shower with you Wonwoo is in the shower with you…
“I didn’t mean to scare you, but I wasn’t quite done with you yet. I’ve waited so long for this I’m not waisting a second”
He grabs your chin and pulls you into a kiss this was rougher and more intense he was hungry for you, humming into the kiss, your bodies pressed together and you feel his cock harden and pull away for a moment. Licking your lips you kiss his neck, putting your hands on his hips and walking him to the wall of the shower, you slick your hair back with the water before getting onto your knees in front of him. Kitten licking his tip before pulling your mouth over it you only take a third of him in sucking on his tip and stroking the rest with your hands.
“fuck y/n, you’re so hot”
His comment made you want to please him even more so you take in more of him a little over half bobbing your head slightly sucking, causing him to groan and tilt his head back. So you take even more taking in all of him his tip hits the back of your throat causing you to gag, which causes him to groan even louder and grab your hair.
“Jesus fucking Christ y/n if you keep up with that I’m already gonna cum”
And so you do. Taking his full length down your throat, wonwoo holds the back of your hair slightly for support, his head is now fully tilted back against the shower wall you can tell he’s close so you pick up your pace a little bobbing up and down his cock.
“I’m gonna cum” Wonwoo says basically out of breath.
You go back to the third of it being in your mouth and jerk off his high with your hands while his seed spills into your mouth and down your throat. After taking his cock out of your mouth you stick out your tongue to show him that you swallowed, then you stand up keeping eye contact while licking your lips and the corners of your mouth making sure not to miss a single drop of him. You give him a small smile and go back to washing your body and hair while he’s still slightly leaning against the wall panting. He watches you finish showering and step out blowing him a kiss before leaving the bathroom, Wonwoo then finishes up his shower.
Once he finishes up and is all dressed he finds you lying on your stomach in bed on your phone. He jumps in and lays beside you.
“You changed the sheets”
“I had to…”
Wonwoo leans in and kisses you on the cheek.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Wonwoo says wrapping his arms around you.
“If you turn off the lights I'm too lazy”
Wonwoo quickly jumps up, turns off the lights and snuggles under the covers.
“We should go down the 23rd,” you say getting beneath the covers.
“I fully one hundred percent agree,” Wonwoo says hugging you tightly.
“Goodnight Wonwoo.”
“Goodnight y/n”
—————————————————————————
Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this and out a lot of time into it so I hope you enjoy 💟
WOOZI on SEVENTEEN winning Artist Of The Year in MAMA 2024
[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance Mini Masterlist
Tales from the Pack Masterlist
»»————- ————-««
After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.
Part One: Almost Impossible
Part Two: Lilly Green
Part Three: The Werecoyote
Part Four: Contradicting
Part Five: Brand New
Part Six: Love/Hate
Part Seven: Not the Same
Part Eight: Back to the Clearing
Part Nine: Little Talks
Part Ten: Origin Story
Part Eleven: The Day That Changed Everything
Part Twelve: Still Here
Part Thirteen: Called Out
Part Fourteen: Running with the Pack
Part Fifteen: (In)Experienced (m)
Epilogue
⭑.ᐟ
"Hey," you say as you put your knees on the bed, right next to where Jun is laying. "Parallel phone-time?"
He looks up from his phone, thinks for a second, and nods. As if you've rehearsed this multiple times before, Jun turns around to lay on his back and opens his arms for you to lay down. You lay down on his chest and pull up your phone. Neither of you have the energy to do anything else, so this is your only resort. Jun holds his phone above his face, behind your shoulder, while you hold your phone to the side. When you first started doing this, it felt a little silly. But now, you've realized that this is just something that you have to do from time to time.
"Phone-time ends when one of us has to go to the bathroom," you remind him.
"Sure."
"... and the first one to leave has to make dinner tonight," you add slyly.
He turns his head to you, but his neck is straining to do so and he ends up pulling a weird face that makes you laugh. Jun doesn't care much, he's too preoccupied with what you just said. "Not fair, I just drank an entire bottle of water!"
"It's not my fault my tactics are better than yours," you say through a grin.
"Ambushing me is a tactic?"
"Absolutely."
Jun mutters something under his breath, but then goes back to his phone. You know that in ten minutes or so, he'll leave and end up making you dinner. You'll probably have to do the dishes, of course, but it's worth it. The two of you lay there in silence, except for the faint music coming from Jun's game. You let him keep the sound on, considering he's going to sacrifice himself in just a little bit.
Right before he leaves, just about ten minutes later, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. And when he comes back from the bathroom, he asks what you want for dinner without a hint of annoyance in his voice.
ramen & fate | boo seungkwan
SUMMARY: in which you meet a rich guy at the convenience store during a late night ramen run.
PAIRING: chaebol!seungkwan x reader
THEMES: strangers to lovers, meet cute kinda
WARNINGS: fluff, use of curse words
WORDCOUNT: 2.4k
A/N: @wheeboo happy birthday my love! this is a little gift from me to you! this is such a silly idea but i thought i'd write it out for you and i hope you like it <3
you walk into the convenience store and walk inside and the faint sound of pop music hums from the speakers overhead, blending with the quiet hum of the refrigerators in the back. you barely notice any of it though because your mission is clear - ramen. you really needed a ramen fix right now.
you make a beeline for the ramen aisle, the craving gnawing at you and nothing else would do now, not after the day you've had. there's a strange comfort in that little cup of noodles, in its simplicity, in the way it tastes exactly how you expected it to. your eyes scan the shelves and you spot your favourite ramen, only to find one left on the shelf. you immediately reach for it without a second thought, but so does someone else.
your fingers brush against another hand, and you pause, startled. your eyes follow the hand, trailing up a crisp white sleeve, past a perfectly tailored suit jacket, until they land on the face of the man reaching for the same cup of ramen. he’s tall so you have to tilt your head slightly to meet his gaze. his expression is cool, almost unreadable, his jawline sharp and sleek, his styled hair making him look like he just walked off the set of some corporate drama.
"oh," you say, blinking as your hand hovers over the cup.
he looks down at you, his brows lifting slightly as if in mild surprise, but he doesn’t immediately pull his hand back. "looks like we’ve got the same taste," he says, his voice smooth.
you blink at him and wrack your brain for a response before you let out a nervous laugh. "well, it is the best one", you reply as you look at him.
he smirks faintly, tilting his head. "i agree, but there’s only one left."
there’s a pause, the moment stretching out as both of you keep your hands over the cup of ramen and suddenly this feels like some sort of high-stakes negotiation situation.
"i—uh—had a long day," you say, trying to justify your claim, though you immediately feel silly for doing so. "i really need this ramen".
his smirk softens into something resembling amusement. "and you think i don’t?", he counters, raising a brow at you. "i’ve had back-to-back meetings since seven this morning", he says.
"well, i’ve been running around non-stop too", you protest, your grip on the edge of the shelf tightening. his gaze flickers between you and the ramen before he exhales, and lets out a small resigned sigh and to your surprise, he takes his hand away.
"alright," he says, stepping back slightly. "you win, take it", he says as his hand swings down. "really? thanks," you say, though your tone is cautious, like you’re not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of trick.
he gives you a small nod, then glances at his watch, grabbing a different ramen from the shelf and walking to a different aisle without sparing you another glance. you blink, a little confused but get about on your mission to get the ramen. you grab a few more stuff, some kimbap and something to drink and make your way to the cash counter when you spot the man in the suit again.
"i'm sorry sir, but i don't have change for such a big bill", you hear the worker say. "unless you buy items for that amount, i don't really have a way to give you back your change", the worker continues.
you walk front and put your stuff on the counter. "i'll pay for his stuff", you say and he looks at you.
"i've got it, i'm sure i have smaller bills somewhere", he says as he pulls out his wallet and your eyes nearly pop out with the fat wad of cash you see in it, all big bills. what the fuck. you decide to ignore what you just saw and by the time the man in the suit is digging his wallet, you've already paid for your stuff, his included.
you take your things and towards the corner of the store to cook your ramen. once the ramen is done, you take a seat and that's when the man in the suit appears again. he’s got his own ramen cup in hand, the sleeve of his tailored suit pushed up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch. he moves methodically, peeling back the lid of his ramen cup and pouring in the hot water with a steady hand, there's no hesitation and no fumbling. he catches your gaze, and you quickly look away, suddenly very interested in your own noodles. you can feel his eyes on you for a moment, but then he goes back to his ramen, silent and composed. you sneak another glance at him and think to yourself - he is pretty handsome.
you’re halfway through your noodles, the warm broth hitting just the right spot on a cold night before you hear the shuffle of footsteps coming towards you.
"mind if i sit?" he asks, his voice smooth and you nod. he sits down with a kind of effortless grace, setting his ramen down in front of him and adjusting his sleeves like he’s dining at a michelin-star restaurant instead of a dingy convenience store. you focus on your noodles, hoping he won’t notice the way your gaze keeps flickering back to him and you watch as he stirs his ramen and takes a bite.
"you didn’t have to pay for my stuff, you know," he says after a bite, breaking the silence.
"it’s not a big deal," you reply with a shrug. "maybe you should carry smaller bills next time", you tell and you can see the faint smile on his face.
"i swear i thought i had change on me", he says, rather to himself.
"doesn’t seem like you need to worry about it," you remark before you can stop yourself. “i mean, with a wallet like that.”
his smile widens slightly, and he leans back in his chair, resting an elbow casually on the table. "appearances can be deceiving," he says, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent you can’t quite place.
you raise an eyebrow. "right, and expensive suits and fat wads of cash are just a camouflage?", you ask.
"something like that," he replies, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes now like he’s enjoying this back and forth talk, like he's amused by you.
you huff out a soft laugh as you shake your head. "well, next time you’re low on change, i suggest hitting the ATM before wandering into a convenience store", you tell and he nods.
"noted," he says, and there’s a warmth to his voice now.
"i’d like to pay you back", he says after a moment, but you shake your head.
"that's not necessary," you reply, waving a dismissive hand. "it’s just ramen", you say.
and he just looks at you, and it looks like he wants to say something more, but he settles for giving you a small smile instead. "alright, if you’re sure".
after finishing his meal, he gathers his things, straightens his perfectly tailored suit and offers you a polite, "thanks again," before leaving.
you think that’s the last you’ll see of him, until you notice something on the table, his sleek black leather wallet, the kind that practically screams expensive. your eyes widen as your hands reach out for it and you mutter under your breath.
grabbing the wallet, you flip it open and find a few crisp bills (all large denominations, of course), some credit cards and a single business card tucked inside, but there's no name, just a logo and a phone number. you hesitate for a moment before you decide to call the number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
for the next few days, you keep the wallet with you, figuring he’ll eventually call back or text or come looking for it, but nothing. it’s not until a few days later, when you’re rushing through a crowded sidewalk with a bag of groceries in one hand and your phone in the other, that fate decides to intervene. you’re trying to balance too many things at once, not paying attention to where you’re going, when you collide hard into someone coming from the opposite direction. the impact sends your phone clattering to the ground and your grocery bag spilling open. "oh, come on!" you groan, crouching to pick up your things.
"sorry about that", a familiar voice says, and you freeze mid-reach.
you glance up to see him, the ramen guy, in his perfectly tailored suit guy, crouching down to help. he looks as polished as ever, his suit immaculate despite the chaos of the street and he notices you at the same time, and his eyes widen slightly.
"you," he says, clearly surprised.
"you," you reply, just as surprised. "i've been looking for you, you left this", you say after you've gathered all your groceries and stand up. you dig into your bag and bring out his wallet, handing it over to him.
his expression shifts. "i didn’t even realize it was missing until yesterday, but by then, i figured it was gone for good", he says as he looks at you.
"well, lucky for you i found it,” you say as you hold it out for him. he takes it from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and his smile softens. “you have no idea how much this means, thank you", he says
"you’re welcome," you reply and he looks down at the wallet in his hand, then back at you.
“i owe you, again", he says. "let me buy you dinner, it's the least i can do, please", he asks and you blink, caught off guard.
"dinner? that's...", you trail off as you chew on your lip, considering his offer. "but you don't even know me?", you say, unsure.
"i'll take my chances", he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
“alright,” you say, nodding. “dinner sounds nice.”
the smile that spreads across his face is slow and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds and it softens his polished, professional look, making him seem boyish almost.
"i didn't get your name", you ask.
"i'm seungkwan", he says, holding out his hand and you reach for it, shaking it, the warmth of his hand engulfing you. "yn", you say, giving him a small smile.
you both exchange numbers and you head home, and it's only then that you wonder if he'll actually follow through. and a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text from him.
ramen guy: this is seungkwan, does friday evening work for dinner? let me know what time works for you.
you reply quickly and his response comes almost immediately.
ramen guy: perfect, i’ll take care of everything, looking forward to it.
when friday arrives, you find yourself standing in front of the address he sent—a restaurant that looks like it was plucked straight from a luxury travel magazine. the building is sleek and modern, its glass walls shimmering in the golden hour light. your nerves spike as you step through the grand entrance and suddenly you're thinking that this must be some kind of joke, that he must have sent you the wrong address by mistake because holy shit, you could barely afford this place. a host greets you with a warm smile when you walk inside. “you must be here for mr. boo seungkwan” they say, their tone polite but knowing. boo seungkwan?
the person guides you towards a private dining room and it's a beautifully set table near the window that overlooks the city skyline. you spot him waiting there and he stands up the moment he spots you, a smile lighting up his face.
he was wearing an all-black suit, and it was perfect for him, tailored to perfection, the fit making him incredibly handsome and attractive and the fit made him look effortlessly sophisticated, yet there was an ease to his posture that made him seem grounded. his dark hair was styled just enough to look intentionally tousled, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. there was something about the way he carried himself, confident but not cocky, poised but not stiff. his smile was the same: genuine and unpretentious, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, yet somehow, in that black suit, he couldn’t help but leave an impression.
“you made it,” he says, his tone warm as he steps forward to pull out your chair for you. "yeah", you say softly, still trying to take in the posh ambience around you.
as the evening unfolds, you’re surprised by how easy he is to talk to. he’s incredibly down-to-earth and he listens intently, laughs at your jokes, and is just so sweet, a complete gentleman. his genuine interest in you, paired with his relaxed nature, made the evening feel warm and comfortable and didn't make you feel intimidated anymore.
“so, what exactly do you do?”, you ask, looking at him.
he hesitates for a moment, then shrugs lightly. “family business,” he says, clearly trying to downplay it. “it’s not that exciting.”
"so what exactly is this family business?", you ask but seungkwan only chuckles softly in response. "it's not as cool as you think. let’s just say it's a lot of paperwork, meetings, and business stuff", he makes an exaggerated motion of his hands like he was emphasizing the mundanity of it all. the date ends on a good note and he even offers to drop you home, but you decline, not wanting to impose on him anymore.
it isn’t until days later, when you’re scrolling through your phone that you stumble across an article and you realize just who he is.
heir to the boo family conglomerate, boo seungkwan spotted at his newest restaurant with someone: who’s the mystery guest?
your jaw drops as your eyes scan the article, which details his family’s massive business empire—including restaurant chains, luxury hotels, and even media companies. the photo accompanying the article shows him stepping out of the very restaurant where you had dinner with him, wearing the same outfit he had that evening, looking effortlessly handsome and polished as always.
and just then your phone buzzes with a new message from him at that exact moment:
ramen guy: i hope you enjoyed the dinner last time. let me know when you’re free again, i owe you another one.
taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852
@weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @wheeboo @icyminghao
@lvlystars @gyubakeries @wootify @ihrtboo @n4mj00nvq
@yoozuku
thank you @michichung for this req!!!
full prompt list!
check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list
fluff prompt #23: "you stayed up taking care of me?"
seungcheol blinked, his eyes heavy as sunlight filtered into the room. he groaned softly, the ache in his body a dull thrum now instead of the feverish pounding it had been… whenever he’d last been awake. how long had he been out?
his room was empty, the bedside table cluttered with things he vaguely remembered—medicine packets, a half-empty glass of water, a damp towel. everything felt too quiet, like the stillness after a storm. but then, faintly, he heard your voice.
it was coming from the living room.
“i don’t know, jeonghan,” you said, your voice tight and edged with worry. “he’s been out for so long, and the fever’s still there. i think i should bring him to the hospital.”
seungcheol frowned, straining to listen. hospital? was it that bad?
“if it’s just a fever, then why isn’t he waking up?” you continued, your voice softer now, almost breaking.
he swung his legs over the side of the bed, willing his aching body to cooperate. his feet touched the cold floor, and he steadied himself before shuffling toward the door.
you must’ve sensed him because your voice trailed off mid-sentence. “jeonghan, i’ll call you back later,” you murmured, and then, louder, “cheol? you’re up. you’re awake.”
he stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame as his gaze locked onto you. you were standing by the couch, phone in hand, but it wasn’t your words that caught his attention. it was you.
your hair was a mess, strands sticking up in odd directions like you’d been running your hands through it all night. your eyes were puffy, the dark circles beneath them stark against your pale skin. you looked utterly exhausted.
“how are you feeling?” you asked, taking a hesitant step toward him.
he didn’t answer right away. his chest tightened as he took you in—your tired posture, the worry etched into your face, the way your shoulders sagged with relief just seeing him awake.
“you stayed up all night taking care of me?” he asked softly, his voice rough from disuse.
you blinked, caught off guard. “what? no, i mean…” you trailed off, looking down at the floor. “you were burning up. i had to make sure you were okay.”
his heart twisted at the way you said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like you didn’t even consider doing anything less.
“you didn’t sleep at all, did you?”
“cheol, it’s fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “you were really sick, and someone had to—”
“hey,” he interrupted, taking a step closer. his hand reached out, gently catching your wrist. “you should’ve woken me up or—”
“you couldn’t wake up,” you said, exasperation creeping into your voice. “that’s what had me so scared. you weren’t responding, cheol.”
he frowned, guilt sinking in as he realized just how worried you must’ve been. “i’m sorry,” he murmured, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your wrist.
“don’t apologize,” you said softly, finally meeting his eyes. “just… are you okay now? do you feel better?”
he nodded, his lips twitching into a small smile. “yeah. a lot better. thanks to you.”
you rolled your eyes, but the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. “it wasn’t a big deal,” you mumbled, but seungcheol could see right through you.
“not a big deal?” he repeated, his tone light, teasing. “you look like you’ve been through a war. come here.”
before you could protest, he pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you with a warmth that made you melt against him. he felt the way you relaxed, the tension in your body giving way as you leaned into his chest.
“thank you,” he said quietly, his chin resting on top of your head. “for taking care of me. for worrying about me. for being you.”
you didn’t say anything, but the way your arms tightened around him said enough.
when you finally pulled back, he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over the dark circles beneath your eyes. “now, go lie down before you pass out,” he said, his voice soft but firm.
you huffed a laugh, swatting his hands away. “you’re the one who was sick. i’m fine.”
“you’re not fine. you’re exhausted,” he countered, his brows knitting together. “just for an hour, okay? i’ll even let you boss me around after.”
you narrowed your eyes at him, clearly debating whether to argue, but the way he was looking at you—soft, stubborn, and so full of affection—made you sigh in defeat.
“fine,” you said, pointing a finger at him as you backed toward the couch. “but you better actually rest too.”
“yes, ma’am.” he grinned, watching as you followed him into the bedroom, plopped onto the cushions and curled up against the pillows.
as you drifted off, seungcheol stood there for a moment, watching you with a fond smile. his heart felt full in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.
and when he finally settled back onto the bed beside you, it wasn’t the lingering ache in his body he was thinking about. it was you, your messy hair and tired eyes, and the way you cared for him like it was second nature.
if he didn’t already love you, he thought, he might’ve fallen for you all over again.
Filthy
🌙 staring. Joshua & Jeonghan x afab!Reader
🔮 synopsis. There’s something long and hard rubbing against your ass, and you can’t help but pull away from Joshua to drop your favourite lawyer pickup line to the man behind you; “Is that a gavel in your pants? Or are you just happy to see me?” “Both,” Jeonghan practically purs, his mouth hot against your neck. “Think you can handle it?”
tw/cw. threesome, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, blow job, shower sex, double penetration, butt stuff, use of a judge's gavel as an anal sex toy, lube, praise, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, cock warming, fingering, hand riding, slight roleplay, beefy/size kink Joshua, polyamory, breast play, masturbation, 'full' kink, etc... I petnames. (hers) gorgeous, baby, filthy little whore.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.8k
🍭 aus. Lawyer!Jihan, polyamory, established relationship, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. the Joshua/Jeonghan pairing always does something to me, and now it can do something to you too. special thank you to @junkissed for helping me figure this fic out :)
It’s nights like these where you have to be very secure in yourself to be in a relationship with not one but two of the top lawyers in your city. Evenings spent cooking dinner in the hope they’ll be able to make it home in time to eat with you often end up with you feeling a little lonely and picking at your food, two seats empty at your table.
You have to remind yourself that this is their job, that they try their best, and when they do finally come home, you have to greet them with a smile. There’s no room for blame on nights like these.
“Sorry we’re so late, gorgeous,” Jeonghan apologizes immediately when they arrive home, setting down his briefcase and opening his arms to pull you into an embrace. One of his hands moves up to cup your cheek, and the kiss he places on your lips lingers. “The litigation team found an entire file of information that’s applicable to the court hearing tomorrow.”
“We just spent three hours going over it,” Joshua sighs, hanging his coat up in the closet.
The younger of your boyfriends looks much more tired than Jeonghan does, but Joshua’s always had a lower tolerance for unexpected turns in cases. You know he must have been seething when they discovered the file, and your heart goes out to him.
“That sounds rough,” you say sympathetically, turning your attention to the beautiful, exhausted man. “What can I do to help?” you ask as you begin to pepper kisses along his jaw, working your way to his pretty lips. “Are you hungry?”
“We ate at the firm,” Jeonghan tells you. “Soonyoung went out and got us all burgers.”
You smile at the mention of your long time friend, he’s one of their errand boys, and it sounds like none of your close acquaintances have had a good night. Sure, a part of you deflates a little- you’d prepared their meals, and the food is still waiting for them in the kitchen, but you suppose that’s easy clean up.
“I guess you two will be wanting to go to bed,” you sigh. “You’ve both got to get up at six, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Joshua matches your exacerbated tone, and he’s frowning while looking down at you. “I know you hate it when we miss dinner.”
“It’s alright,” you assure him, gently smoothing your hands along his broad chest before giving him a small pat and pulling away. “This is part of the job. I’ve got to go put the food away.”
“We should have texted you,” Jeonghan offers, “but it was a mad scramble at the firm.”
“Like I said, it’s alright,” you smile softly. “You’ve had long days, go relax, I’ll meet you in the bedroom when I’m done in the kitchen.”
With a nod, Joshua heads down the hall, but Jeonghan lingers. “I’ll help you clean up,” he tells you after a moment of consideration.
“Thank you.”
The two of you relocate to the kitchen. It’s late, and like your boyfriends, you’re also moving a little slower than normal.
It helps to have another set of hands, even if they’re on your hips while Jeonghan presses himself against your back. “Looks like you made a great dinner tonight, gorgeous. I’m extra sorry we missed it.”
“You really don’t have to keep apologizing,” you laugh, carefully putting the food into containers to be put in the fridge. “Besides, you can eat it tomorrow for lunch or something.”
“What would we do without you?” Jeonghan’s lips are on your neck, and the gentle kisses almost tickle, making your smile widen.
“Eat bad food or starve?” you suggest.
Jeonghan grins against your throat. “Lucky we have you then, hmm?”
“Very lucky,” you agree.
“Listen, I’m going to go have a shower…” Jeonghan holds you tighter, and you can feel his cock pressing against your ass through his pants. “Want to come join me?”
You push your butt back towards the horny man you call your lover, grinning at his behavior. “What about Joshua?”
“You know Joshie likes morning showers after the gym. He won’t join us. In fact…” Jeonghan’s nose traces across your throat, his breath hot, “I bet he’s already asleep.”
“You think?”
Jeonghan hums. “He almost passed out in the car ride home. Trust me, we should let him rest.”
“We’ll have to be quiet though,” you point out. “We wouldn’t want to wake him.”
“I can be quiet,” Jeonghan smirks, “can you?”
You love it when he challenges you like this, and you give a quick nod.
“Good,” he pulls away from your back, giving your ass a light smack. “Meet me in the bathroom, gorgeous.”
You’re just about done in the kitchen, and when you head down the hall to the guest bathroom, Jeonghan already has the shower running.
The room is filling with steam, and his suit is neatly folded on the sink. Joshua’s forced Jeonghan into the habit of taking care of his clothes, and the sight of your wild boyfriend being neat always makes you giggle.
You’re wearing a cute little ‘housewife dress’ as Jeonghan would call it, and it’s easy enough for you to slip off. The underwear set adorning your body was one you’d chosen with the hope of someone else tearing it off, but you suppose doing it yourself before getting fucked in the shower is a decent compromise.
Soon, you’re naked and opening the glass door to join Jeonghan in one of his favourite sex locations.
Jeonghan’s always been beautiful, but there’s something almost ethereal about the way he looks when there’s water cascading over his perfect skin. He turns as you enter, eyes scanning over your body as a smile appears on his lips.
“Hi gorgeous,” he greets you, grabbing your waist to tug you tight to his front, capturing his cock between your bodies.
“I can’t believe you’re already hard,” you giggle, enjoying how easy it is to turn him on.
“I’ve been fighting a stiffy since lunch time when you sent me that picture of the new lingerie Joshua bought you. He might have forgotten about it and gone to sleep, but I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day.”
“Is that so?” you tease, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he pulls you half under the spray of warm water. “Is this what you were imagining?”
“I was imagining tag teaming you with Joshua, but when work ran late… this is exactly what I started to have in mind.”
“You like having me all to yourself, don’t you, Hannie?”
“I’m not gonna lie,” his fingers dig into your hips, “as much as sharing you with Joshie is fun, I do enjoy having you to myself every once in a while.”
“So now that you have me to yourself, what can I do for you, Mister Yoon?” You press your body forward, applying pressure to his cock. “I know you had such a long, hard day-”
“My day isn’t the only thing that’s long and hard,” Jeonghan smirks at you.
“I’m very aware of that, Mister Yoon. Shall I take care of it for you?” You love playing the part of sexy assistant, and he deserves it after the day he’s had.
Jeonghan lets out a groan. “Have I told you how fucking sexy you are today?”
“No, but I’d love to hear it while I suck you off, Mister Yoon,” you grin, pulling away from him so you can get down onto your knees.
“You always love being praised when you have your mouth full, isn’t that right, gorgeous?” Jeonghan’s eyes are fixed on you as you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, and his hand moves down to push your hair out of your face.
“Of course, Mister Yoon, love to be praised by you.”
“Yeah,” Jeonghan sighs as your tongue teases the head of his cock. “I’m the good one, and Joshua always gets to be the bad one with degradation. Are you sure I can’t call you my wonderful little cockwhore?”
“I think that’s still bordering on praise, Hannie,” you grin, breaking your game of assistant to ‘Mister Yoon’ for a moment to appreciate your boyfriend. Jeonghan can never be that rough with you, and his dirty talk always includes praise, even when he’s trying to be more of an asshole.
“It’s just hard not to compliment you,” he says, groaning when you take him into your mouth. “You always feel so good.”
With your mouth full, there’s no way to verbally respond, but the moan you let out sends a shiver of pleasure through your lover.
“Fuck, you feel like magic, gorgeous,” Jeonghan tells you, his voice breathy. “Always so good at sucking me off- who taught you how to be so good at sucking cock?”
Technically, he did. Jeonghan’s never been one to shy away from giving you instructions on what feels best, but to be fair, it’s never taken that much for you to get him to the edge either.
He likes it when you move your tongue along his shaft, and he goes crazy for the sounds of pleasure you make when Joshua fucks you silly while you suck on him. But Joshua’s not here tonight, so you slip your own hand between your legs, rubbing your wet pussy with eager fingers.
“I guess we’re both horny, huh? I can’t complain. We both know I love watching my gorgeous girl touch herself. I’m not sure where to focus, on your mouth, or your hand.”
You’re not sure where to focus either. Part of you wants to lean in to blowing Jeonghan, but another part of you feels so good to be touched after so many hours being home alone. It’s clear you’ve both needed this, both needed a release, and you know it won’t be long until both of you are cumming.
“Fuck, keep doing that,” Jeonghan moans when you swirl your tongue around his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth. “Keep doing that for me, good girl, good girl.”
You whimper at the praise, rubbing circles on your clit that have jitters of pleasure erupting through your body.
“I’ve been wanting this all day, gorgeous,” Jeonghan tells you, hips rutting forward to push his cock deeper into the back of your throat. “I’m not going to last long, and I don’t want to be in your mouth when I cum.”
You pull off his cock, free hand stroking his shaft while you continue to rub your pussy. You blink up at Jeonghan. “Are you going to fuck me, Mister Yoon?”
“Of course gorgeous, now stop touching that pretty pussy and stand up for me.”
You’re on your feet not a moment later, and Jeonghan gently pushes you so your back is against the wall. He kisses you hard, one hand reaching down to hike your thigh onto his hip, spreading you open for the cock that rubs between your pussy lips.
You whimper when his length brushes by your clit, and your boyfriend smiles against your mouth. “Ready for me?” he asks. “You don’t need me to get on my knees and return the favour first?”
“Definitely not,” you say quickly, “just want you inside of me.”
“You got it, gorgeous.”
With one quick adjustment, the head of his cock is pressing into your entrance and you’re both letting out moans of pleasure, although yours is much louder than Jeonghan’s.
“Shh!” he reprimands you with a laugh, slapping his hand over your mouth. “Joshie’s sleeping, remember?”
Honestly, part of you had forgotten. You’d been so enraptured in Jeonghan that Joshua hadn’t even been on your mind.
You can’t help but smile against your boyfriend’s palm, but when he thrusts into you, your eyebrows furrow and another moan slips out of you, this time it’s muffled by Jeonghan.
“Fuck you’re so wet, and I know it’s not just from the shower,” Jeonghan groans. “Who made you this wet?”
His hand makes your response almost unintelligible, but as far as you’re both concerned, it’s a clear ‘you did.’
The feeling of Jeonghan’s chest pressing up against your sensitive nipples, the water from the shower making you both slippery- well, it’s absolutely wonderful. You’ve always loved fucking your hotshot lawyer boyfriend in the shower, and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure he provides.
As he fucks you harder, Jeonghan gets tired of muffling your sounds with his hand, and his mouth replaces it on your lips. His tongue invades you, and the whimpers that escape you are eaten up by your boyfriend.
He’s making his own pretty sounds, and they’re music to your ears. You like to know you make Jeonghan feel good, and his moans and groans have always been a huge turn on.
He breaks your kiss much too quickly for your liking, moving his mouth to your throat. “I’m close,” he tells you, teeth dragging by your skin. “Tell me you’re close too-”
“I am,” you confirm, gripping his wet shoulders tighter as you close your eyes and rest your head back against the cold tile. “You fuck me so well, Mister Yoon.”
“Fuck,” Jeonghan moans, rutting into you even faster. “Rub your clit, want you to cum as hard as I’m about to.”
One of your hands slips between your bodies, seeking out the sensitive nub that makes your whole body tingle. “Kiss me!” you beg, needing his mouth to muffle the sounds of pleasure that are definitely going to get louder now-
Jeonghan kisses you and takes your breath away. You completely give in to the feeling of euphoria that builds in your core, and the way you moan into each other’s mouths tells you that you’re both getting closer and closer-
You know Jeonghan well enough now to know the pitch of groan he makes when he cums, and you reach your highs together, lip locked in your shower while Joshua rests in the bedroom down the hall.
Jeonghan fucks you through your orgasm, and when you’re both done, he helps you put your foot back down on the floor, steadying you with two hands.
“You’re amazing,” he tells you, as the two of you wash your bodily fluids from your skin under the hot water.
“No, you are,” you insist. “You had a long day and you still fucked me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get laid tonight.”
“I live to serve,” Jeonghan teases, turning you in his arms so your back is to his chest. His lips press kisses against your shoulder. “The court case will be over soon, even though this was fun, I know you usually like more,” - and by more, he means threesomes with Joshua - “I promise we’ll make it up to you when we’re done with the trial.”
Jeonghan always keeps his promises.
The two of you dry up and head to the bedroom wrapped in towels.
Joshua’s laying on the mattress, under the duvet. He’s adorned in a silky sleeping shirt, part of a set you’d got him for his birthday last year. There’s a sleep mask over his eyes too, and you think he must be in dreamland-
But as you and Jeonghan tiptoe to the closet to get dressed for bed, Joshua lets out a sigh, and one word slips past his lips that makes you realize he’s been awake this whole time; “Filthy.”
You feel like a kid on Christmas morning when your boyfriends arrive back from court after the last day of their hearing. Joshua’s visibly more relaxed than he has been in weeks, and his happy expression tells you that they probably won their case, which is good news for you.
He pulls you into an embrace, cupping your face and kissing you. You can practically feel the emotion pouring out of him, his love for you, his need-
And Jeonghan’s just as eager to get a piece of you, pressing his chest up to your back and grabbing at your hips.
There’s something long and hard rubbing against your ass, and you can’t help but pull away from Joshua to drop your favourite lawyer pickup line to the man behind you; “Is that a gavel in your pants? Or are you just happy to see me?”
“Both,” Jeonghan practically purs, his mouth hot against your neck. “Think you can handle it?”
Joshua watches your expression, and he lets out a small chuckle at the way your eyes widen. “He’s being serious about the gavel.” It must be obvious you’re in shock. “I told him not to do this-”
“Nah, she’s going to love this,” Jeonghan insists, reaching into his pocket to pull out the little wooden hammerlike tool that judges use to maintain order in the court and make rulings. “I can use it to stretch you open, you know, get you prepped to take something bigger.”
Jeonghan rubs his cock against your ass again and you realize what he’s suggesting.
You’re not sure how, exactly, the routine ended up being the way it is, but Joshua always ends up monopolizing on your pussy while Jeonghan fucks around with your ass. Although he’s never fucked around with your ass using a wooden gavel.
“Come on, gorgeous,” Jeonghan teases the tool along your arm. “What do you say?”
“First…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna know where you even got that thing.” You grab at the gavel and Jeonghan lets you take it, testing the weight in your hand.
“A judge owed my family a favour,” Jeonghan says simply.
“Won’t they get in trouble?”
The man behind you shrugs. “Gavels go missing all the time.”
“I told you she wouldn’t like it,” Joshua smirks knowingly. “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.”
As much as Joshua can be a bit of a dickhead in the bedroom, he still classifies himself as a gentleman in his day to day life, and giving you the space to make choices for yourself is part of that.
“It’s okay,” you assure them, taking a shaky breath. “He can use it on me… we all know Jeonghan quickly gets tired of using toys.”
“See?” Jeonghan grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I told you she’d say yes. What did you call her the other night? Filthy? I told you our filthy girl would let me use the gavel on her.”
Joshua makes a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat. “I’m pretty sure I called you both filthy. Fucking in the shower while I was trying to sleep- I still haven’t gotten either of you back for that.”
“You’re about to get back at us now,” Jeonghan insists.
“Really?” Joshua’s brows raise. “How’s that?”
“You’re about to be balls deep in the best pussy you’ve ever had.”
“And how does that get back at you?” Joshua presses.
The man behind you shrugs, grinding against your bum. “I only get to enjoy her ass.”
The ‘gentleman’ rolls his eyes. “Key word enjoy. We both know you love her ass.”
“Okay, I do love her ass,” Jeonghan concedes, “and if we keep talking about it instead of letting me fuck it, I’m gonna be pissed, so how about we take this to the bedroom?”
You look at Joshua, waiting for your more controlling lover to decide what comes next.
With one final sigh, Joshua bends down and throws you over his shoulder, making you squeal and wrap your hand tighter around the gavel. You thank god for how much he’s been going to the gym before work lately- the manhandling he does always makes you wetter beyond belief, and your panties are already sticking to your core.
Jeonghan follows the two of you to the bedroom with a grin, and you find yourself shaking your head at him. “I can’t believe you brought a gavel home.”
“It’s sexy,” he insists.
“Are you sure about that?” You jokingly bring the gavel down on your hand and Jeonghan audibly moans.
“Yes, your honour, absolutely positive.”
Joshua snickers below you, and you find yourself grinning at Jeonghan. It really doesn’t take much to get him turned on, and you should have known he’d have a thing for you being a naughty judge of sorts.
“Careful, Counsel,” you tut, using more lawyer lingo on him, “or I’ll sentence you to eating me out before you get your dick wet.”
“Sentence me then, I’m guilty, and I need to be punished.”
You and Jeonghan release giggles, enjoying the playful banter, but Joshua doesn’t seem so impressed. He tosses you onto the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated expression. “Neither of you take law seriously.”
“We’re off the clock, Josh,” Jeonghan grins, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Lighten up a little.”
“I’m never going to be able to look at a gavel the same way again after this,” Joshua sighs.
Jeonghan’s grin only widens. “That’s the point, popping stiffies in the court room is good for your exhibitionism kink. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Joshua,” you lock eyes with the more stoic of your lovers, “I’ve missed you.”
The lawyer visibly relaxes, shoulders falling as he takes a deep breath. “I’ve missed you too,” he confesses, putting a knee onto the bed between your legs, hands finding the mattress on either side of your head while he presses his lips to your own.
He’s always been a fabulous kisser, and you hadn’t realized how much you’ve needed him in the past few weeks. Sure, he’s fucked you a number of times, but part of his head is always somewhere else, somewhere working.
There’s nothing in the world like having Joshua Hong’s full attention, especially when he’s pinning you beneath his large body-
“So I guess I’m just standing here and watching tonight?” Jeonghan’s voice is laced with annoyance, and Joshua matches the sentiment when he pulls his lips from your own, looking over his shoulder at his friend.
“Be patient,” Joshua snaps. “And I thought you were a vouyer, don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”
“Fine,” Jeonghan swings the gavel in his hand. “Maybe I’m enjoying this a little, but I’m tired from working too, and we don’t have all night.”
“We do have all night,” Joshua insists. “It’s not my fault you insisted on waking up early to eat out your precious, little miss gorgeous while I got more rest. If you’re tired you can have a nap.”
Jeonghan narrows his eyes at the man still pinning you to the bed. Then he swings the gavel again. “I’m going to go grab the lube.”
“You do that.” Joshua’s lips are back on yours a moment later, and you find yourself smiling into the kiss.
You’ve always enjoyed their unique dynamic, the push and pull between the men who have captured your heart. If someone asked you which of the two you like better, you’d tell them it’s impossible to choose, and that’s the truth.
With your legs around Joshua’s hips, it’s as easy as ever for him to grind down against you, and you moan at the feeling. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently to work pretty sounds out of him as well.
“I need you naked,” Joshua tells you, grabbing at the pretty dress you’d worn to celebrate the closing of their high stress case.
“Then take this off of me,” you suggest, “but please be gentle.”
Your boyfriend smirks. “Only with the dress.” His large hands smooth up your thighs, pushing the fabric up to your hips. “And these cute panties.” His fingers tug gently at the waistband of your thong, letting the material snap back against your skin before he continues lifting the dress from your body.
Now all that stands between him and you is the set you’d worn, and he takes a moment to appreciate it. A sigh passes from between his lips, and Joshua’s eyes take in your form, hands going to caress your breasts through your bra.
“Look at our pretty little present,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your collar bone before moving down. “It would be a shame to take this off before Jeonghan sees it.”
As much as the two of your boyfriends bicker, they can still be quite considerate of each other, and it makes your panties even wetter against your core.
“Flavoured lube or regu-” Jeonghan’s returned from where you keep all your sex paraphernalia, and his question cuts off. You can tell he’s as bewitched by your bra and pantie set as Joshua is, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “Fuck, gorgeous, you look…”
“Perfect,” Joshua groans, biting at the lacey detailing of your bra. “How’d we ever get so lucky?”
“Well, I brought her around after a date and you decided you wanted in on the situation,” Jeonghan retorts, making you smile, “that’s how we got lucky.”
“I’m still not going to apologize for it,” Joshua breathes, smiling as he presses more chaste kisses to the swell of your breasts. “It’s not my fault you weren’t satisfying her.”
“Hey!” you and Jeonghan both protest, and with one harsh push at Joshua’s shoulders, he allows you to roll so you’re now on top of him.
“What?” he grins, as if he hadn’t just said anything wrong.
“You know what,” you chastise him, trailing your fingers along his chest before moving to the buttons of his shirt. “Don’t be rude.”
“Sorry, baby, you know I’m only playing.”
“So she gets an apology but I don’t?” Jeonghan tuts, approaching the bed.
“And don’t pretend you’re only playing,” you scold Joshua. “Those were fighting words.”
“Fighting words.” The man beneath you only smiles wider, but he doesn’t try to argue.
The mattress dips as Jeonghan joins behind you, his lips seeking out your shoulder. “I brought regular lube,” he tells you, going back to the matter at hand. “Unless you want me to get the cherry one and eat your ass.”
When he’d first started saying lines like this one, you’d thought he was joking, then it had seemed something of a threat, but now, you think Jeonghan might actually want to eat your ass, something you’re not particularly interested in tonight.
“Hannie,” you sigh, ditching your task with Joshua’s shirt buttons to reach behind you and thread your fingers through your other lover’s hair.
“What?” Jeonghan smiles against your shoulder, and you find it almost comical how he and Joshua have so many of the same mannerisms. They’re two sides of the same coin, and you’re so lucky you don’t have to ever choose head or tails.
“Just help me with my bra,” you instruct, grinding down against Joshua and feeling needy beyond belief.
“You got it, gorgeous.” Jeonghan’s fingers undo the clasp, and the material goes slack. Two sets of hands work to pull it off your body, and then those hands are clashing to get a good grip on your boobs.
Joshua ends up grabbing your left one, and Jeonghan settles for the right. In unison, they go to pinch your nipples, and you throw your head back, releasing a moan of delight.
“You both feel so good,” you tell them, grinding down on Joshua even harder.
“Going to feel even better in a minute,” Jeonghan promises, “but we’ve got to get your panties off first.”
You’re in a very difficult position to follow through removing your underwear, as you’re still straddling Joshua, and you go to lift yourself up- only for Jeonghan to reach down and grab onto your thong.
You begin to tell him off with a “Don’t-” but Jeonghan’s already tearing the flimsy fabric off your body, ruining the panties forever.
Disappointment floods through you, and Joshua immediately sits up in an attempt to sooth you.
“You warned me to be gentle with your clothes, but you never warned him,” Joshua reminds you, pressing a kiss to your nipple. “We’ll buy you new ones.”
“Promise?” you pout, steadying your hands on his shoulders.
“Promise,” Jeonghan confirms, reaching around you so he can cup your pussy, fingers teasing past your clit. “You just look so sexy and needy on top of Josh, I didn’t want to make any of us wait any longer.”
“That’s because you’re impatient,” Joshua reprimands him, and it’s a common statement made in your household.
Jeonghan doesn’t even bother to defend himself, instead slipping two fingers into your wet core. “Ride my hand, gorgeous?”
You let out a frustrated groan, but do as you’re told.
There’s something so insanely sexy about straddling Joshua while he sucks on your nipples and Jeonghan’s hand presses between your bodies, long fingers buried deep inside of you-
You swivel your hips and moans begin to slip out of you.
When Jeonghan begins rutting against your ass, aiding you in grinding against his hand, it almost becomes too much, and you whimper loudly.
“Close already? Jeonghan asks, lips ghosting by your throat.
“I’ve missed being between you like this,” you admit, focusing on the pleasure that surges through you at being in the exact position you’ve been deprived of for a little over a week. Their schedules simply haven’t lined up lately, and it feels like heaven to finally be exactly where you’ve always wanted to be; pressed between Joshua and Jeonghan.
“That’s our filthy girl,” Joshua grins, large hand coming up to grope your breast and tease your nipple again. “You look so good like this.”
“Joshie-” you whimper, his praise going straight to your core.
“Love the way you squeeze my fingers when he talks dirty to you like this,” Jeonghan moans, licking at your sweet spot and sending a shiver up your spine.
“Come on, baby,” Joshua encourages you, “I want you to cum while riding his hand.”
“While he sucks on your perfect nipples,” Jeonghan adds. “I’ve got such a good view.”
You’re so lucky they’re both voyeurs who enjoy watching you get pleased by each other, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. Jeonghan continues to rut against your ass, helping you grind down on his hand while he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm.
More moans of pleasure escape you, and you can feel both men smiling at the sounds. “That’s it,” Joshua breathes, “let go for us, the quicker you cum, the quicker I can be inside you. You want me inside, right?”
“Uh huh,” you whimper, eyes closed as you work your way closer and closer-
“Just like that,” Jeonghan tells you, “you’re so perfect for us-”
It’s the final line of praise that makes the cord in your stomach snap, and you let out a gasp as you find your release. You quiver between your boyfriends, motions faltering, but Jeonghan takes over for you, thrusting his fingers into your core and rubbing at your clit to work you through your high.
All you can do is latch onto Joshua’s shoulders as an anchor and enjoy the feeling of being worshipped, the feeling of being pressed between two men who love you more than almost anything in the world.
Some part of you is a little bitter that their work still comes first, but this is proof enough that as soon as a case is over, you get to cum too.
As far as orgasms go, however, this is just an appetizer. Jeonghan’s fingers are great, but they’re nothing compared to having two cocks buried inside of you, and as soon as you’re done cumming, you’re pushing at Joshua’s shoulders for space.
“Lay down,” you tell him, “I need to get your dick out.”
Joshua laughs but does as he’s told, tearing his shirt off before resting back against the bed with a smile.
“You get his dick out,” Jeonghan says, “and I’m going to lube up the handle of this gavel.”
He can be such a weirdo, but he’s your weirdo, and you love him endlessly.
You’re attention is focused on Joshua, who lifts his hips a little to help you get his pants down, and you let out a moan when his cock slaps up against his abdomen.
You’re not sure what you ever did to deserve two men with such pretty cocks, and it’s almost a shame that in this position you can’t blow him. You promise yourself to give him good head another time soon, for his benefit or your own, you’re not quite sure.
Wrapping your hand around Joshua, you guide him to your wet core.
Sinking down on him makes you both groan loudly, and as soon as he’s inside, you collapse against his strong chest to press your lips to his.
Joshua grabs your hips, fingers digging into your skin.
If it was just the two of you, you have no doubt he’d be fucking you already, that he’d be rutting up to meet you and helping you bounce on his cock- but you’re both highly aware of Jeonghan at your rear.
Any time Jeonghan does butt stuff with you, Joshua settles for cock warming while his friend works you open, and it gives you lots of time to enjoy his pretty lips and the tongue that glides by your own.
“I’ve gotta say it, gorgeous,” Jeonghan sighs, “you’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen.”
Coming from an assman like Jeonghan, it’s a huge compliment, and you always appreciate his praise. No man has ever made you feel as proud of your asshole as Jeonghan has, and it’s always a somewhat comical experience, but one you love nonetheless.
“I’m about to ruin this gavel,” the assman at your rear tells you, giving you the space to back out, but you’re much too deep in this to go back now.
When you respond with a loud moan, still lip locked with Joshua, Jeonghan brings the lubed up tip of the handle to your hole, gently pressing it inside.
You’ve become accustomed to butt stuff while dating these two men, and the feeling is one that you’ve learned to love. Even though it’s just the first inch of the handle, slowly teasing your hole, it feels amazing to have Jeonghan working your ass open while Joshua’s buried balls deep in your pussy.
“Fuck, this looks-” Jeonghan groans, “insane. Joshie, you’re really missing out.”
Joshua only chuckles against your lips, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about Jeonghan missing out on your pussy.
The handle of the gavel presses deeper into your ass and you feel yourself clench around both of your intrusions.
Joshua lets out a groan, reaching to cup your bum and spread your cheeks for his friend.
“Shit, yeah, that’s good,” Jeonghan tells you. “This looks-”
“Insane,” Joshua finishes for his friend, pulling away from your mouth to glare over your shoulder, “we know. Hurry up so I can actually start fucking her.”
“I want to play a little more though,” you can hear the pout on Jeonghan’s words. “It’s only two inches deep.”
“Hannie,” you groan. “Please-”
“Just a little more,” Jeonghan insists, pulling the gavel out of your ass only to press it back in. The feeling makes your toes curl, and Joshua lets out a grunt below you when your pussy clenches around him again.
“Fuck,” Joshua cusses, releasing one of your ass cheeks only to bring his hand down on it with a harsh slap. All three of you moan and the flash of pain makes your toes curl again.
“Joshie-” you whimper, burying your face against his neck.
“Another?” Joshua asks, not bothering for an answer before he’s spanking you again.
Jeonghan moans. “Holy shit-” The gavel is toyed around your ass, and then it’s being removed. “Fine, have it your way.”
You feel the gavel being tossed onto the bed, and then there’s a scuffle of pants and a cap being clicked. You can hear Jeonghan lubing up his cock, and he lets out a hiss at the sensation. “Ready for me, gorgeous?”
“Yes, please,” you whimper, arching your back to make things easier for the assman behind you.
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Joshua groans, spreading your asscheeks with two large, warm hands, “You’re both filthy.”
“Don’t act as if you don’t love this,” Jeonghan tuts, pressing the head of his cock to your hole. The tip slips into you and you cry out, earning a soothing touch of Jeonghan’s hand over your spine. “Relax, gorgeous, this is going to feel amazing.”
It already does, but you focus on your breathing as Jeonghan slides his lubed cock deeper into your ass.
“Okay, okay,” Jeonghan swallows thickly, “let’s start to move.”
“Thank fuck,” Joshua groans, grabbing onto your hips to anchor you above him for his first real thrust-
They move in unison, and the feeling of being stuffed makes you cry out in pleasure, grabbing onto Joshua’s shoulders.
You love how you don’t have to do anything. Pressed between Jeonghan and Joshua, you give up all control. Their push pull relationship is never more evident as it is now, and they wordlessly work together in a way that has your toes curling and your eyes clenching shut.
“Fuck, fuck-” you whimper loudly and it only makes your boyfriends laugh.
“Hang in there, gorgeous, we just started,” Jeonghan warns you.
“You’re so tight, baby,” Joshua groans, “such a filthy little whore for being stuffed.”
You kind of love it when he calls you a filthy little whore, and your pussy throbs with pleasure-
“Shit, are you going to cum?” Joshua laughs. “Our filthy little whore is going to cum already?”
“It just feels so good,” you whimper. “Feels so full-”
“That’s the way you like it,” Jeonghan says, and you can hear him smiling. Then his hand comes down on your ass and you let out a yelp, clenching again-
“Fuck-” Joshua groans loudly. “If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last either-”
“Aw,” Jeonghan teases, “is our stoic little lawyer boy going to cum already?”
“Fuck off,” Joshua growls, fingers digging into your hips while he fucks up into you even faster.
“It was just a question,” Jeonghan insists, but you can hear his own voice faltering with effort.
“Unlike you, I’ve been focused on the case,” the man below you argues. “Excuse me for being sensitive after not being in this perfect pussy for three days.”
“You chose sleep over fucking, not my fault,” Jeonghan retorts.
“Please,” you groan, “stop arguing.”
“We both know if she cums, we cum,” Joshua continues, disregarding your plea. “Don’t act like you’d be able to stop yourself-”
“Hannie-” You turn your attention to the man in your ass, hoping he’ll see reason and end this bickering, but of course he wants the last word.
“Be patient, Joshie.”
“Fuck,” Joshua groans loudly, bucking up into you wildly.
“I’m so close-” you whine, needing to draw their attention to you somehow. Besides, it’s the truth, and you can feel your orgasm rising in your core again-
“Shit,” Jeonghan grabs your ass roughly. “Can you hold it?”
“I don’t think so-” you admit, pressing your lips against Joshua’s throat in an effort to distract yourself.
The man under you shudders, and you know he’s just as close as you are to reaching his end.
“Please, Hannie,” you moan desperately, “I want to be full, please fill me up, please-”
Jeonghan lets out a shaky breath, and when he speaks, his voice is near a whisper; “Order in the court.”
“Fuck order,” Joshua says, a major statement coming from him, “cum with me baby, come on, cum with me.”
That’s all it takes for your orgasm to take over, and you let out a strangled gasp as it slams into you. You feel yourself clamp down on both men, and Joshua moans loudly in your ear as he reaches his own high.
His hips falter ever so slightly, and you can feel him filling you up with his cum while Jeonghan releases cusses behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he’s thrown over the edge too.
Being double stuffed is one thing, but being double filled is another, and it feels like absolute heaven. If there’s ever a night to get noise complaints, it’s going to be tonight, as the sound of three people reaching cloud nine together rings through the room.
The two men fuck you until they can’t anymore, until you’re all breathing heavily and nearly overstimulated.
You’re already collapsed against Joshua’s chest, and Jeonghan slumps down against your back, breath hot against your neck.
The three of you lay there for a short while, trying to slow your racing hearts. Then Joshua lets out a sigh. “Did you really say ‘order in the court’ during sex?”
“Did you really say ‘fuck order’?” Jeonghan retorts.
God, you love these men.
☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! the banter between Jeonghan and Joshua always gets me 😂
🍭 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. Maybe Joshua calling you filthy had some merit, only a filthy filthy girl would be in a situation like this. Jacking off your boyfriend, rubbing your clit under his desk while your other boyfriend hides his own cock from your friend in the doorway-
cw/ tw. exhibitionism/sex in their workplace, blowjob, masturbation, Soonyoung walks in during y/n blowing Joshua, head petting, praise, degradation, hand job, voyeurism, mentions of this not being the first time someone’s walked in on them, cum swallowing, finger licking, etc…
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.6k I teaser wc. 500
🌙 staring. Joshua & Jeonghan x afab!Reader
bonus
You’d guessed there was a plan brewing when Joshua messaged you around lunch time to let you know he’d forgotten the meal you’d prepped for him. Out of your two boyfriends, Joshua’s not the type to forget things, least of all lunch, and especially not on a day where he’s not completely overwhelmed by a case.
It would be as easy as anything for him to send Soonyoung out to grab him food, so the fact that he’s messaged you to ask you to come down to the office tells you there will be more to your lunchour than just being an errand girl.
You don’t mind taking a trip down to the lawfirm, and you adorn yourself in a cute dress Joshua always loves fucking you in. Your makeup is simple yet pretty, and you’re confident in yourself when you walk into the tall building your boyfriends work at.
It feels nice to get a few appreciative looks as you head through the lobby, and you even run into another attorney your boyfriend’s work with in the elevator. Seungcheol does his best not to look at your chest, but you catch his gaze dipping once or twice while you make simple conversation and explain to him that “Silly Joshie forgot his lunch” which is why you’re here to visit.
Seungcheol is even so nice as to walk you to Joshua’s office, and you can’t help but think it’s an excuse to look at your ass while you walk in front of him, side stepping litigation team members and waving to your acquaintance Vernon at his desk.
When you reach Joshua’s luxurious corner office, you and Seungcheol are both a little shocked to find both of your boyfriends inside waiting for you. Joshua and Jeonghan look just as surprised to find Cheol as your escort.
“I uh, bumped into her in the elevator,” Seungcheol explains. “Wanted to make sure she found your office alright.”
You’re all aware that you’ve been here before, you know where your boyfriend’s office is, and Joshua cocks a brow at his friend. Instead of questioning Seungcheol’s motives, however, Joshua simply nods. “Thank you for showing her the way. Is that all?”
“Yeah,” Seungcheol coughs nervously, “I’ll see you both in the boardroom in an hour for our case debrief.”
“See you then,” Joshua confirms.
“Bye, Cheol,” Jeonghan lifts a few fingers to wave at his friend as he leaves you, shutting the office door firmly behind him. “Hi, gorgeous.”
“Hi, you two,” you laugh, practically skipping up to Joshua’s desk to set his lunch down and press a kiss to his lips. “Didn’t expect you both to be here.”
“Originally, I was going to try to get you alone,” Joshua admits, smiling down at you before his gaze shifts to Jeonghan. “But when he heard you were coming with lunch, he insisted on staying.”
“We all know you never ‘forget lunch,’ Joshie,” Jeonghan says simply. “I figured if there was a show going on in here, I’d want to see it. For a man who claims we’re the filthy ones, it’s awfully daring of you to invite our girlfriend to the firm to get your dick wet at lunchtime on a Tuesday.”
☀️to read the full 3.6k bonus, 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: (send me an ask to join either tag list:)
@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
svt taglist:
@rebeccasficrecs - @alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @greysdarling
@joonsneptune - @candidupped - @cheolussy
@yourfavoritefreakyhan - @asjkdk
thanks to those who interacted with the teaser:
@shmooooo - @9900z - @park-hera-gi - @hanihans
@saranghaesara - @johnny-kunzen - @cheolsbitch
@searchfordino - @youdawonu
© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed
𝜗℘ CAN I BE HIM?
❛ 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘯𝘰. 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴— 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯? 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮? ❜
timeline: 2017 & 2018
synopsis: Amid the tangled emotions between Luna, Jeonghan, and Mingyu, unspoken confessions and lingering hopes weave a bittersweet narrative of love, regret, and the desperate longing to be chosen.
warnings: angst, multiple povs, narrative description heavy, cursing, crying, mentions of rejection, heartbreak, jealousy, regrets, unrequited love (?), sad!Luna, jealous!Jeonghan, jealous!Mingyu, lowkey possessive Jeonghan, secret feelings, confusions and realizations, acceptance, unrequited love, everyone is lowkey sad
read If Only first before this if you haven’t already! this one-shot is the aftermath of that story. this is also inspired by these request by you lovely humans: (request 1), (request 2), (request 3) & (request 4) happy reading, my loves 🤍🤎
sidenote… my heart aches for the three of them cause i have been on their shoes before… all three of them (also, i made myself cry again)… i promise, they’ll be fine 🥹🤍
“and when i felt like i was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said i was your favorite.” listening to Cardigan while writing this is not for the faint hearted…
╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist
Can I be him?
The thought crossed Mingyu’s mind as he sat on the cold floor of the practice room, his back propped against the wall. His dark eyes were fixed on Luna, who was across the room, quietly stretching. Her movements were methodical, almost robotic, as if her body was going through the motions her heart wasn’t in. She tilted her head to one side, letting out a soft laugh at something Dokyeom had said, but Mingyu wasn’t fooled.
That smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Her eyes told a different story.
Slightly swollen, rimmed with a faint red that hadn’t been there the day before, they seemed heavier today, carrying the kind of weight that only came with a sleepless night and a broken heart.
Luna’s smile faltered just slightly as she stretched her arms over her head, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor. But she recovered quickly, plastering on the same bright expression that fooled most of the room.
Most of the room— but not the members, not him, and definitely not Jeonghan.
Mingyu’s gaze drifted from Luna to her shadow.
Jeonghan sat across the room, leaning against the mirrored wall, legs sprawled in front of him. His usual air of calm amusement was absent. Instead, he looked subdued, almost tired. His sharp eyes followed Luna’s every movement, his expression unreadable except to those who knew him best.
Mingyu could see the sadness there, the guilt. Jeonghan wasn’t the type to wear his emotions plainly, but Mingyu knew him too well to miss the subtle signs.
Mingyu let out a quiet sigh, his chest tightening as he turned his attention back to Luna.
She was so good at pretending.
Too good.
But not good enough to fool him.
Despite his reputation for being loud and playful, Mingyu was surprisingly perceptive, especially when it came to his members. He had a knack for reading the room, for picking up on the things people didn’t say.
And Luna, with her slightly too-wide smile and tired eyes, was screaming in silence.
His mind wandered back to the night before, right after they had wrapped up a grueling day of comeback promotions. They’d all piled into the van, worn out but satisfied with their progress. But something had been different. The usual chatter and teasing had been dampened by a palpable tension that no one could quite name.
He remembered how Jeonghan had broken the silence as they pulled up to the dorms.
“Can you guys give me a moment with Jiyeon?” Jeonghan had asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of urgency that couldn’t be ignored.
The members had exchanged glances but ultimately agreed, leaving Jeonghan to chase after Luna to the elevators.
Mingyu had lingered just a moment longer, glancing back to see Jeonghan jogging after Luna, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
Desperate, almost.
The elevator doors had closed, muffling whatever conversation took place between the two.
By the time they arrived at the practice room today, they had both looked… normal. Talking, laughing, pretending nothing was wrong. But it was clear as day that something had changed. Luna moved with less energy, her usual spark dulled. And Jeonghan— he looked like a man carrying a secret too heavy to bear.
Then there was the matter of Luna’s swollen eyes. She’d walked in and mumbled something about it being allergy season.
Allergy season.
The excuse might have flown with someone else, but Mingyu wasn’t buying it. He knew better.
Luna wasn’t allergic to pollen— or anything but mushrooms, for that matter. And while the other members had let it slide, choosing not to push her, Mingyu had spent the entire morning unable to shake the image of her red-rimmed eyes.
It wasn’t allergies. It was something else.
Mingyu’s chest tightened again as he watched Luna push her hair behind her ear, her focus entirely on her stretches.
Luna wasn’t looking at Jeonghan. She hadn’t looked at him directly all morning. And yet, her entire body seemed to lean in his direction, like she couldn’t help but orbit him.
Her heart was crying for Jeonghan, Mingyu realized.
Whatever had happened between them last night, it had left her raw. She was trying so hard to act normal, to be okay, but it was written all over her face.
And Jeonghan— Jeonghan’s face held an ache that mirrored hers.
Mingyu had always known Luna to be someone who wore her strength like armor. She was tough, fiercely independent, and had an almost stubborn determination to handle her own struggles.
Over the years, he’d watched her laugh off bad days, push through injuries, and hide her tears behind radiant smiles.
He knew why she did it— she hated the idea of being a burden to anyone.
Even now, when her swollen eyes and tired demeanor betrayed the storm inside her, she continued to act as though everything was fine.
But Mingyu also knew her tells.
He knew the little cracks in her facade that most people missed. The way her laughter came a beat too quickly, or how she busied herself with menial tasks when her thoughts became too loud. And he especially knew how she would retreat into herself, bottling everything up until she couldn’t anymore.
In those moments, there was always one person who could reach her— Jeonghan.
Jeonghan had a way of being exactly what Luna needed.
He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the first to drop whatever he was doing to listen to her. No matter how busy or chaotic things got, Jeonghan would sit with her, offering his undivided attention and quiet reassurances until she felt safe enough to open up.
But not today.
Today, Jeonghan was the reason for the sadness she was hiding, and Mingyu knew she wouldn’t be going to him. Not with the way she avoided looking in his direction or the way she flinched just slightly when his name was mentioned.
Mingyu had decided then and there that if Jeonghan couldn’t be the one to catch her this time, he would.
Even if it wasn’t his place.
Even if it hurt.
He’d made it his mission to be the shoulder she could lean on, at least until she and Jeonghan could figure things out.
Mingyu didn’t need to replace Jeonghan in her life— though the selfish part of him ached to hold even a fraction of the space Jeonghan held in her heart.
No, Mingyu would happily be whatever Luna needed him to be. Because she deserved to have someone in her corner.
The practice session dragged on, but Mingyu barely registered it. His attention kept flickering to Luna, who worked quietly in the corner, tying her hair up into a ponytail as the rest of the members milled about the room. She was doing her best to blend into the background, her movements measured and unhurried. But Mingyu could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the hair tie around her fingers.
He didn’t hesitate.
Before she could finish, Mingyu crossed the room in a few long strides, his heart thudding in his chest as he approached her. Without a word, he gently turned her around to face him and wrapped her in the biggest, warmest hug he could manage.
Luna froze in his arms, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. For a split second, she didn’t know who it was, but the familiar weight of Mingyu’s biceps around her shoulders was a dead giveaway.
Her body tensed at first, stiff and uncertain, but then it melted against him. Her arms came up to wrap loosely around his torso, and Mingyu felt the tension in her shoulders ease. She sank into the hug as though it was exactly what she needed but didn’t know how to ask for.
Neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to fade away, the noise of the practice room becoming distant and inconsequential.
Mingyu rested his chin on the top of her head, his large hands moving gently to the loose tie of her hair. He pulled it free, his fingers working carefully to gather her strands and tie them properly. Luna stayed in place, her arms still around his waist, her face pressed lightly against his chest.
When he finished, Mingyu pulled back just slightly, cupping her neck with both hands as he tilted her head up to look at him. His thumbs brushed softly against her skin, and he offered her the gentlest smile he could muster.
“You did good today,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m proud of you, Lulu-ya.”
Luna’s eyes went misty at his words, her lips curving into a sad, soft smile. “Thank you, Gyu-Gyu,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mingyu’s chest ached at the sight of her.
That smile— bittersweet and fragile— made him feel both helpless and fiercely protective all at once. He knew his words weren’t much, but she deserved to hear them.
Luna’s heart ached, too.
Jeonghan was always the one to tell her these things. After every practice, every performance, every small accomplishment, he would praise her for things she didn’t even realize mattered. “You did so well,” he’d say, whether it was after a grueling practice session or after a performance or something as simple as finishing her meal.
Mingyu wasn’t trying to replace Jeonghan, and deep down, she knew that. But it hurt all the same because his words reminded her of what she had with Jeonghan. And yet, it also made her heart swell with gratitude for Mingyu.
Mingyu felt the weight of her emotions, even if she didn’t voice them. He didn’t say anything, letting the moment hang between them before speaking softly again.
“Let’s eat together later,” he offered, his voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll come to your place, and we can hang out. Just you and me.”
Luna hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly as she considered his words. “You don’t have to, Gyu…”
“I want to,” he interrupted gently, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “You can tell me everything if you want or we can just watch something, okay?”
Her lips parted as if she wanted to argue, but she stopped herself. Instead, she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said softly.
Mingyu smiled again, his hands still cupping her neck as he gave her a small nod. “Good. I’ll bring something over later. We’ll make a night of it.”
“Okay,” she repeated, her voice a little steadier this time.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.
Across the practice room, Jeonghan now stood, his against the mirrored wall, his arms crossed against his chest. Dino and Dokyeom were animatedly chattering beside him, their voices rising and falling with excitement as they recounted some trivial story from their schedule earlier that week. Jeonghan nodded absentmindedly, his lips curling into an occasional smile to show he was listening.
But he wasn’t.
His eyes were elsewhere, fixed on Luna and Mingyu, who were still locked in that quiet, private moment.
Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on the way Mingyu’s large hands cradled Luna’s neck with such gentleness, the way he tilted her head up to meet his gaze as if she were something precious. The way Luna’s tired face softened in response to Mingyu’s words, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Jeonghan didn’t even realize he had stopped nodding along to Dokyeom and Dino’s conversation until Dokyeom nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance. “Hyung, are you even listening?”
Jeonghan blinked, his head turning slightly toward them. “Hmm?” he murmured, feigning nonchalance as he offered them a distracted smile. “Yeah, I heard you.”
Satisfied, Dokyeom launched back into his story, and Jeonghan gave another vague nod. But his attention drifted back almost immediately, his gaze locking onto Luna once again.
Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he was feeling.
There was a tightness in his chest, a gnawing sensation that twisted uncomfortably in his gut. It wasn’t something he was particularly familiar with, and yet, it felt impossibly loud in his head.
He watched as Mingyu’s hands lingered at Luna’s nape, his fingers brushing lightly against her skin before he stepped back, giving her a reassuring smile. He watched the way Luna’s shoulders seemed to relax under Mingyu’s touch, how she nodded at whatever Mingyu said with an almost imperceptible hesitation, as if she was letting down a guard she didn’t even know she had raised.
And then, like a whisper in his mind, the thought came unbidden— Can I be him?
Jeonghan’s chest constricted at the question, his heart skipping a beat as if the thought itself had startled him. The weight of those words settled heavily in his mind, lingering like a bitter taste he couldn’t shake.
But almost as quickly as it had come, the thought shifted, his mind backtracking with a sharp pang of realization.
I was him.
His fingers curled against his thighs as the words echoed in his head, quiet but insistent. He was the one Luna used to lean on, the one she sought out when the weight of the world became too much to bear. He was the one who used to coax those smiles out of her, who knew exactly what to say to make her laugh, to make her feel seen.
And now, someone else was standing in his place.
Jeonghan’s jaw tightened as he forced himself to look away, his eyes dropping to the floor. He hated how his thoughts were spiraling, how his emotions felt tangled and messy in a way he couldn’t quite unravel.
“Hyung?” Dino’s voice pulled him back to reality again, and Jeonghan glanced up, his expression carefully composed.
“Yeah?” he asked, his tone calm and even.
“Are you okay? You seem… distracted,” Dino said, his brow furrowing slightly.
Jeonghan gave a small laugh, shaking his head as if to brush off the concern. “I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.”
But as he glanced back across the room, his eyes catching the tail end of Luna and Mingyu’s conversation, that gnawing feeling in his chest remained.
He told himself it was nothing. Just a passing moment of jealousy, perhaps. Nothing he couldn’t shake off.
But deep down, Jeonghan knew better.
Luna knew better as well.
She knew this quiet evening with Mingyu, as comforting as it was, would inevitably end with her peeling back the layers of her conflict with Jeonghan.
She knew Mingyu well enough to recognize that he wasn’t here just to keep her company or to feed her. He was here because he cared, because he had always been the kind of person who would wait patiently until she was ready to share the weight she carried.
Later that night, just as planned, Luna and Mingyu found themselves in her cozy apartment. The smell of her vanilla perfume lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the soft citrus scent of the candle she had lit on her kitchen counter. They were supposed to order takeout, but Mingyu, ever the culinary enthusiast, had other plans.
“You know, you could just sit there and be pretty while I do all the work,” Mingyu teased as he rummaged through her fridge, pulling out ingredients with practiced ease.
Luna, standing across the kitchen island with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow at him. “And why would I do that when I can help? You do realize I’m capable of cooking, right?”
Mingyu paused, a dramatic look of skepticism plastered on his face. “Capable? Sure. But am I willing to risk my life testing that theory? Not really.”
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upward despite herself. “Oh, please. I could outcook you any day.”
“Oh, really?” Mingyu leaned against the counter, smirking at her.
“Really. I’m an amazing cook, Gyu,” Luna huffed, grabbing a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer. “I’m helping, whether you like it or not.”
Mingyu grinned, knowing she wouldn’t back down. “Fine, fine. I’ll give you a task so you don’t feel useless.” He gestured toward the living room with his chin. “Go pick something for us to watch. Something good, okay? No pressure.”
Luna narrowed her eyes at him, but she set the spoon down and wandered into the living room, already knowing exactly what she’d choose.
When she returned a few minutes later, the television glinting as the screen flashed and showed what she chose. Mingyu burst into laughter. “‘Tangled’,” he said, shaking his head fondly. “Why am I not surprised?”
“What’s wrong with ‘Tangled’?” Luna asked, feigning offense as she arranged the table in front of her.
“Nothing,” Mingyu replied, turning back to the stove. “I just knew you’d pick it. You’re predictable, Lulu-ya.”
“Predictable? I’ll have you know that this is a classic,” she said, plopping down on the couch and throwing a cushion at him for good measure.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Mingyu called back, dodging the cushion with a grin.
The sound of vegetables sizzling in the pan and the faint background score of the movie filled the apartment, creating a warmth that wrapped around them like a blanket.
When the food was finally ready, they settled on the couch with plates in hand, the coffee table serving as a makeshift dining area. The meal was simple— kimchi fried rice with chicken and some stir-fried vegetables— but it was perfect.
As the movie played, Luna found herself laughing more than she had in days. Mingyu kept up a steady stream of commentary, poking fun at Flynn Rider’s exaggerated smolder and mimicking Maximus the horse with over-the-top gestures.
It was silly and endearing, and it was exactly what she needed.
But Mingyu never pushed. He didn’t ask her how she was feeling, didn’t pry into the thoughts she was clearly holding back. He just let her exist, let her enjoy the moment, and it made all the difference.
For now, Luna didn’t have to think about the ache in her chest or the unspoken tension that lingered between her and Jeonghan.
For now, she could just be.
But deep down, she knew better. She knew that before the night was over, the words she had been swallowing all day would finally spill out. And somehow, she also knew that Mingyu would be ready to catch them when they did.
And then it did happen.
It happened in a flash, so subtle yet so significant, that Luna barely registered the words leaving her mouth until it was too late.
Mingyu stood from the couch, stretching his long limbs before heading toward her pantry. He ran a hand through his hair and casually asked, “You want a glass of wine? Thought it might as well be our dessert.”
She was mid-laugh, relaxed for the first time in what felt like ages, when the words slipped out, unbidden. “The last time I drank, I got fucking drunk and told Han I–”
The room fell into an unnatural stillness as her sentence cut short. Her breath hitched, and she froze, eyes dropping immediately to her hands. Her fingers instinctively twisted the gold rings she always wore, a habit Mingyu had seen countless times before. It was her tell, her silent admission of unease.
Mingyu turned slowly, his hand still hovering over the wine bottle. He studied her with the kind of calm that came only from years of reading people. He released the bottle without a sound and walked back toward her.
He didn’t speak, didn’t push, simply sat beside her, his broad frame a steady presence in the quiet room.
Luna felt the couch shift under his weight, but she couldn’t look at him. Her fingers kept twisting, the band of her rings cool against her warm skin. She felt a hand gently rest atop her head, and her tense shoulders eased just slightly at the comforting gesture.
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until she finally closed her eyes and sighed, long and weary. She knew Mingyu wouldn’t force her to speak. But that was precisely why she wanted to.
He deserved to know.
After everything he had done for her tonight— his lighthearted banter, the warm meal, the quiet reassurance he provided without ever needing words— he deserved this piece of her, no matter how raw it felt to offer.
And maybe, just maybe, she needed this too.
“The last time I drank…” she started, her voice shaky, barely above a whisper. She forced herself to keep going, the words tumbling out like a confession she had been holding too tightly for too long. “I got drunk and told Han… told him that I liked him.”
Her voice cracked at the last word, and she bit her lip, still unable to meet Mingyu’s gaze.
Mingyu had known.
He had always known.
From the moment they had met as trainees, it was as clear as daylight. Luna’s feelings for Jeonghan were written in every lingering glance, in the subtle softening of her features whenever he walked into the room, in the way she instinctively gravitated toward him no matter the situation.
It was in the way her eyes sparkled like stars whenever Jeonghan praised her, the way she seemed to orbit around him without even realizing it.
Mingyu knew it because he felt the same way about her.
He knew how it felt to linger in the background, to notice every small detail about someone and hope they’d see you too. He knew how it felt to hide his feelings behind jokes and smiles, burying them so deeply that no one would ever guess.
The difference between them was that Luna’s feelings were as evident as the sun at noon, while his were a well-guarded secret. He had mastered the art of pretending, of hiding his heart in plain sight.
He watched her, his heart aching as she twisted her rings even harder. It was as if she were trying to ground herself, to stop herself from breaking apart completely.
“…And the next day, in the elevator, he told me we wouldn’t work.”
The quiet admission shattered Mingyu’s trance.
His eyes snapped down to her, and he saw her finally look up at him. Her dark eyes were rimmed with tears, glistening under the soft light of her apartment. She blinked rapidly, as if willing them not to fall, but her lips trembled despite her effort to keep her composure.
“Am I too hard to love, Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice so soft, so heartbreakingly vulnerable, that Mingyu’s chest tightened.
His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. He could only see the pain in her eyes, the self-doubt she had no business carrying, and the weight of her question that hung in the air between them.
Mingyu swallowed hard, his fists clenching against his knees as a bitter thought crept into his mind.
Can I be him?
Could he be the one who made her laugh, made her cry, made her feel so deeply? Could he be the one her heart longed for so desperately?
Mingyu had tried to push those feelings down for so long, telling himself it was enough just to be her friend. But seeing her like this, so broken over someone else— it hurt. It hurt more than he could have imagined.
Why can’t I be him?
And yet, even as the thought consumed him, Mingyu couldn’t look away. All he wanted, more than anything, was for her to smile again. Even if it wasn’t because of him.
Because that was what love looked like.
And right now, love was a battlefield he was losing.
He wanted to tell her so much— that she wasn’t too hard to love, that she deserved more than she was giving herself credit for, that if only she would let him, he would love her in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
But he also knew this wasn’t about him.
So, instead, he cupped her face in his large, warm hands, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks as he steadied her gaze.
“No,” he said, his voice firm yet impossibly soft. “You’re not hard to love, Jiyeonie. Not at all.”
Her tears spilled over then, and Mingyu felt his heart splinter in ways he didn’t think were possible. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, as if he could shield her from every hurt she had ever felt.
And for tonight, he promised himself he would be that person for her— the one she could lean on, the one who wouldn’t let her fall apart.
Luna broke.
It was slow at first, a trembling exhale that Mingyu barely heard over the rush of his own thoughts. Her body stiffened against him, her small frame caught in the vice grip of emotions she could no longer hold back.
Then, with a sound that tore straight through his chest, she broke completely.
Mingyu felt the full weight of her grief as her fingers fisted tightly into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her tears spilled freely now, soaking the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked her body.
He didn’t speak, didn’t move beyond the slow, soothing circles his hand traced on her back. He held her tightly, anchoring her, silently telling her she wasn’t alone in this.
It was the first time she’d let herself cry again after last night’s explosive breakdown. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since she’d stepped out of that elevator, leaving Jeonghan behind with a reassuring smile she’d fought to muster. She’d told him it was fine, told him she understood, before the doors slid shut and she was finally, mercifully, alone.
The second she’d stepped into her apartment, the dam had burst. Every ounce of strength she’d held onto collapsed under the weight of his polite rejection. She had screamed into her pillow, sobbed until her chest physically hurt, and curled into herself as the words replayed in her head like a cruel melody:
“…we can’t do this.”
And now, here she was again, sobbing uncontrollably, except this time she wasn’t alone.
Mingyu said nothing as her cries poured out against him. He stayed rooted in place, steady and quiet, letting her grief unfold at its own pace. His hand never stopped its gentle motion against her back, his other arm a firm yet tender hold around her.
He didn’t mind that his shirt was drenched, didn’t care that her nails were digging into him.
All he cared about was her.
When her sobs finally began to soften into quiet sniffles, he shifted slightly, but only to press his lips to the crown of her head in a gesture so soft it was almost reverent.
“You are not hard to love, Jiyeonie,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. He pulled back just enough to tilt her tearstained face up to meet his gaze. His hands cupped her cheeks gently, his thumbs wiping away the streaks of tears on her flushed skin. “You are far from that. In fact, you’re so easy to love.”
Her swollen, teary eyes locked onto his, and he could see the raw emotion swimming in them. Confusion, sadness, disbelief— all of it was there, but she didn’t pull away.
Luna let him hold her, let him speak.
Mingyu exhaled softly, his thumbs brushing over her skin again as he continued. “You care so deeply about the people around you. You go out of your way to make everyone feel seen and heard, even when you’re struggling yourself. You light up every room you walk into, Lulu-ya. People gravitate toward you without even realizing it because you make everything feel lighter, better. You’re kind in ways that most people can’t even fathom. You make people laugh, you make them feel safe. You make me feel safe.”
His voice wavered slightly at the last admission, but he pressed on, unable to stop the words tumbling from his heart. “You’re the type of person who loves so selflessly, and I don’t think you even realize how rare that is. You’re easy to love, Bae Jiyeon. So easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t deserve you.”
He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his unspoken feelings threatening to overwhelm him. This wasn’t just about reassuring her— it was a truth he’d been holding onto for years, a truth he’d never been able to say out loud until now.
Luna’s lips parted slightly as she stared up at him, her wide, tear-filled eyes searching his face for something she couldn’t name. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Her silence said more than words ever could.
Mingyu’s gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment too long before flickering back to her eyes. And then back again. His breath hitched, and he realized just how close they were, her face cradled in his hands, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.
Her eyes held sadness, yes, but there was also a flicker of confusion, a question she didn’t yet know how to ask.
His head dipped slowly, so slowly that time seemed to stretch around them. He could feel the pull, the magnetic force drawing him closer to her, but just as his lips were a whisper away from hers, he stopped.
Mingyu froze, his breath shaky as he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest gently against hers.
He sighed deeply, frustration and guilt clawing at him as he scolded himself silently.
What are you doing, Kim Mingyu?
Luna didn’t need this. She didn’t need more confusion, more complications. She didn’t need him taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Luna nudged her forehead against his, a small gesture of concern that only deepened his guilt. “Gyu-Gyu?” she whispered, her voice laced with confusion.
He opened his eyes slowly, finding her gaze still locked on him, her brows knit together as if trying to piece together what he was feeling.
Without a word, Mingyu pulled back just enough to place a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. His lips pressed against her skin with a tenderness that conveyed everything he couldn’t say aloud.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes met hers again, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay, Jiyeonie,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a conviction he wasn’t entirely sure he believed. “You’re stronger than you think.”
Mingyu took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stared into Luna’s tear-streaked face. Her eyes, still wide and brimming with confusion, searched his for answers he didn’t yet have the strength to give. But there was one thing he knew with unwavering certainty, one thing he could promise her.
“I’ll make sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice soft yet filled with conviction. His hands, still cradling her face, fell to her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t know how long it’ll take or how much it’ll hurt, but I promise you, Jiyeonie, I’ll be here. Whatever you need— whenever you need it— I’ll be here.”
The words hung in the air like a vow, unspoken yet understood. He didn’t need her to respond. Her silence, the way her fingers clung faintly to his wrist, was enough.
And with that, he stayed close, letting her process everything in her own time, his presence a silent promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.
And Mingyu kept that promise.
Through the days, the weeks, the months that followed, he was there. Quietly, steadfastly, he became the anchor Luna needed as she worked through the storm raging inside her.
He was the one who showed up unannounced at her apartment with her favorite takeout when he suspected she hadn’t eaten. The one who filled her living room with laughter when he pulled out his collection of terrible dad jokes. The one who dragged her out for morning walks when she felt too drained to even leave her bed, promising her that fresh air and sunshine could do wonders for her soul.
Whenever self-doubt crept into her voice, Mingyu countered it with an unwavering confidence in her. “You’re stronger than this,” he’d say, “and I’m not just saying that because I care about you. You’ve gotten through so much, Jiyeonie. You’re going to get through this, too.”
Whenever fatigue settled into her bones or fear whispered cruel lies into her ear, Mingyu was there. He’d sit with her in silence on her toughest days, a steady presence she could lean on without judgment. He gave her space when she needed it and filled it when she asked.
Mingyu knew when to push and when to wait.
There were days when she would cry, and he would simply hold her. Other days, she would rant about how lost she felt, how fragile she had become, and Mingyu would sit there, listening to every word without interrupting.
Mingyu didn’t try to fix her. He just let her feel what she needed to feel.
And slowly but surely, Luna began to heal.
Her laughter returned, soft at first but growing stronger with each passing day. Her confidence, once so shaken, began to rebuild itself. She started to hum absentmindedly again, a habit Mingyu had always found endearing.
Even her relationship with Jeonghan began to return to normal.
The awkward silences that had once stretched between them disappeared. The lingering tension in their stares faded, replaced by the easy camaraderie they had always shared. They laughed together again, talked as though nothing had happened, and spent time with the rest of the members without the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.
Jeonghan, true to form, never brought up what had transpired between them months prior. He respected her unspoken boundaries, never prying, never pushing. Luna, for her part, was grateful for that.
But no matter how much Mingyu helped her heal— no matter how many of her insecurities and doubts he managed to soothe— there was one thing he couldn’t replace.
Her feelings for Jeonghan.
Even after all this time, even after nearly a year of distance and rebuilding, her heart beat only for him.
It was Jeonghan she thought of in quiet moments, Jeonghan whose laughter still echoed in her mind, Jeonghan whose touch she longed for.
Her heart ached for him, yearned for him, and no amount of time seemed capable of changing that.
Her heart beats only for him; it longs only for him, an unyielding melody that no one else can rewrite.
And Mingyu… Mingyu was content with that.
Because if there was one thing he knew about love, it was that sometimes, love meant putting someone else’s happiness above your own. It meant helping the person you loved most find their happiness, even if that happiness didn’t include you.
After all, you would do anything for love— even if it meant helping your love with their love.
Mingyu marveled at his own heart sometimes, at its strength.
How was it possible to love someone so selflessly, to give so much of yourself knowing you might never get anything in return?
He didn’t know, but he also didn’t regret it.
Then again, Luna’s heart was just as strong, if not stronger.
She had endured the kind of heartbreak that could shatter a person, and yet she had chosen to keep loving. She had chosen to persevere, to hold onto that love even when it felt impossible.
Mingyu thought of her often, of the quiet resilience she carried, of the way she smiled even when her heart was heavy.
She amazed him, and in some ways, she inspired him.
If Luna could endure so much and still love so deeply, then who was he to do any less?
And so, Mingyu stayed by her side, his heart heavy yet full.
Because loving Bae Jiyeon— helping Bae Jiyeon—wasn’t a burden.
It was a privilege.
Jeonghan feels the same.
It was a privilege.
It was a privilege to know Luna, to stand beside her through the years as they navigated the treacherous waters of the idol world. A privilege to work with her, to watch her light up stages with an effortless grace that took his breath away every time. A privilege to call her his best friend, the one person who could read him like an open book even when he thought he was being clever.
And above all else, it was a privilege to be loved by her.
Jeonghan had known since the moment she confessed to him in her apartment, her words slurring slightly from the alcohol but her heart painfully clear.
Luna’s love for him wasn’t something fleeting or shallow. It was deep and real, a kind of love he’d never dared to believe someone like him could deserve.
But it terrified him.
The moment in the elevator the night after when he told her, “We can’t do this,” he knew he’d made a mistake.
The look in Luna’s eyes— the fleeting flash of pain she couldn’t quite mask before she quickly plastered on a smile— was something that haunted him.
He remembered the way she reassured him, her voice trembling slightly as she said, “It’s fine. I was drunk and being stupid.” And then she left the elevator, her head held high, as though the weight of his rejection wasn’t bearing down on her.
But Jeonghan knew her better than that.
He always had.
That night, he couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed every moment of their conversation, every little detail he wished he could take back. He pictured her walking into her apartment, finally letting her guard down, finally allowing herself to cry.
The thought of her alone, her shoulders shaking with sobs he knew she wouldn’t let anyone else see, made his chest ache.
The next day, he noticed the shift immediately.
Luna avoided his gaze in schedules, her usual bright smiles now tempered, softer, almost rehearsed. She threw herself into work with a single-minded focus that even the other members started to comment on. He could see it in the way she laughed at jokes— polite, short, never reaching her eyes. He could see it in the way she distanced herself, not just from him but from everyone, wrapping herself in a cocoon of work and solitude.
And then there was Mingyu.
Jeonghan noticed how Luna began to gravitate toward him.
It started small— a lingering conversation here, a shared laugh there. But it grew, and before long, Mingyu became her shadow, her support, her confidant.
Jeonghan should have felt envious, should have felt angry, but all he felt was gratitude.
Because if anyone could help Luna when she refused to help herself, it was Mingyu.
Jeonghan knew how Luna was.
She wasn’t the type to openly share her emotions, not unless she was pushed. She was the type to bury them, to lock them away until the weight of them became unbearable. And Mingyu… Mingyu had a way of drawing people out, of making them feel safe.
Jeonghan was thankful for him, even if it hurt to watch them together sometimes.
And so, Jeonghan watched.
Silently, slyly, like a fly on the wall, he kept an eye on her.
He noticed the little things— the way her smile faltered when she thought no one was looking, the way her hands fidgeted nervously during group meetings, the way her laugh sometimes felt just a little too forced.
Jeonghan noticed how she stopped seeking him out the way she used to, how her lingering stares disappeared, replaced by a pointed avoidance that cut deeper than he wanted to admit.
He noticed, too, the way Mingyu seemed to bring back pieces of the Luna he knew.
Little by little, she began to laugh more freely, her eyes regaining some of their sparkle. She started to hum to herself again, a quiet melody that Jeonghan hadn’t realized he missed until it returned.
But even as Luna began to heal, Jeonghan couldn’t shake his regret.
He regretted the fear that had gripped him in that elevator, the fear that had made him choose the safe path instead of the one he truly wanted.
Jeonghan regretted making her feel like her love wasn’t worth the risk, like she wasn’t worth the risk.
He regretted the way he had hurt her, the way he had driven her away, the way he had made her question herself. And he regretted most of all that he hadn’t been brave enough to tell her the truth.
Because the truth was, Jeonghan had loved Luna for as long as he could remember.
Jeonghan was in love with Luna.
Hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her in a way that defied logic or reason. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint to a single moment or a singular trait.
From the moment they met as trainees, there had been something about her that drew him in. Maybe it was despite her cold outward appearance, she smiled so beautifully, so bright and unguarded, or the way she laughed, unabashed and full of life. Maybe it was the way she looked at him, like she could see straight through the facade he so carefully crafted.
It was everything, all at once.
It was the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed too hard, her giggles filling the room like sunlight spilling into a dark corner. It was the way she remembered the little things— like how he liked his coffee or how he always needed a nap after a long schedule.
It was the way she seemed to know him better than he knew himself, calling him out on his tricks and teasing him just enough to make him feel seen but never exposed.
He loved the way she carried herself, too— quietly resilient, endlessly kind, and fiercely loyal.
Luna was the type of person who gave her all to the people she loved, and Jeonghan had been one of the lucky ones to be on the receiving end of that love.
Jeonghan loved her then, and he loved her now.
But he had convinced himself that love wasn’t worth the risk.
That the friendship they had built, the bond they shared as members of the same group, was too important to jeopardize. That their careers, their futures, couldn’t withstand the weight of a love like theirs.
And so, he had told her no.
Even now, after everything, after he had hurt her, rejected her, and created a chasm between them, she treated him with the same warmth she gave to everyone else. He could see it was different now, of course— more guarded, more deliberate— but it was still there.
And it made him ache.
Jeonghan had spent countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment he told her no.
But now, as he watched her from afar, as he saw the way she smiled at Mingyu, as he noticed the way she seemed to come alive again under his care,
Regret was a constant companion, whispering in his ear, reminding him of what he had given up. It wasn’t just her love he had rejected— it was the possibility of something more, something deeper, something that terrified him because of how much he wanted it.
He wanted to make things right, to take back the pain he had caused her, to give her the love she deserved. But he didn’t know how.
But he was determined to make things right, no matter how long it took.
So, for now, he watched. And he waited.
Even if they could only ever be friends, Jeonghan was willing to accept that. He would rather have her in his life in any capacity than risk losing her completely. He was willing to put in the effort, to prove to her that she was safe with him again, that he could be someone she could trust. He was willing to push his own feelings aside if it meant seeing her happy.
And he hoped, with everything in him, that one day he would find the courage to tell her the truth.
But it wasn’t easy.
Even after months of careful rebuilding, after they had returned to a semblance of normalcy, Jeonghan could still see how Luna clung to Mingyu.
He didn’t blame her. Mingyu had been her rock during the time Jeonghan had faltered, the one who had stepped in when he had stepped away. And Mingyu, ever the gentle giant, had been exactly what Luna needed.
They were behind the scenes of a photoshoot when Jeonghan saw it again.
Luna’s laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, as she squealed and called for Mingyu. “Gyu-Gyu, look at this!” she said, her voice laced with excitement. She held up her phone, waving it at him as he approached, his face lighting up in that easy, boyish grin Jeonghan had come to know so well.
Mingyu leaned down to look at her phone, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing her small frame as they shared a moment of quiet laughter.
Jeonghan watched from the corner of the room, his hands loosely clasped in front of him, his heart constricting painfully at the sight.
He was happy to see her smile like that, truly happy.
It was the kind of smile that reached her eyes, the kind of smile that had been absent for so long. And he was thankful for Mingyu— deeply, profoundly thankful— for being the one to bring that smile back.
But despite the gratitude that swelled in his chest, another thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome.
Can I be him?
The question lingered, heavy and bittersweet.
It mirrored the thought that had crossed Mingyu’s mind so many months ago, the same quiet longing, the same resignation.
But where Mingyu’s question had been born from the pain of unrequited love, Jeonghan’s was laced with guilt and regret. Because he could have been him. He could have been the one to make her laugh like that, to stand by her side, to be her rock.
But he wasn’t.
And now, as he watched her with Mingyu, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had forfeited his chance entirely.
Jeonghan’s gaze lingered on them, his heart twisting with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. He saw the way Luna tilted her head up to meet Mingyu’s eyes, her expression soft and full of trust. He saw the way Mingyu looked at her in return, his own gaze steady and unguarded.
It was a silent conversation, a quiet understanding, and Jeonghan felt like an intruder simply for witnessing it.
It was ironic.
Both Jeonghan and Mingyu were caught in the same cycle, both willing to put their own feelings aside for Luna’s happiness. Both of them aching for something they could never truly have. And yet, where Mingyu’s strength lay in his ability to give selflessly, Jeonghan’s strength was still a work in progress.
He wanted to be better for her. He wanted to deserve her.
But as he stood there, watching her laugh with Mingyu, the question lingered in the back of his mind, haunting him.
Can I be him?
Jeonghan’s breath caught in his throat as he stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before him. Luna and Mingyu were standing just a few feet away, their heads bent together over her phone. She laughed again, her voice light and melodic, and something inside Jeonghan twisted painfully.
She looked so happy.
The kind of happiness that was effortless, unguarded, real.
And yet, all Jeonghan could think was, Am I still the one?
The question clawed at him, desperate and raw, filling him with a fear he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the sight of her smiling at Mingyu or the way she leaned into his presence like he was her safe harbor.
It was the possibility that somewhere along the way, Jeonghan had lost her— lost the part of her heart that once belonged to him.
Had she moved on? Had her feelings for him faded, dissolved into nothing but a distant memory of what could have been?
Jeonghan’s fingers tightened into fists at his sides, his chest heavy with the weight of uncertainty. He had no one to blame but himself. He had been the one to push her away, to draw that invisible line between them, to let fear and doubt dictate his choices.
But what if, in doing so, he had extinguished the flame that once burned for him in her heart?
Jeonghan’s mind raced, desperate for answers.
He thought back to every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every smile she had ever given him. He thought about the way she used to look at him, her eyes filled with a kind of quiet adoration that made him feel like he was the center of her universe. He thought about the way she used to laugh at his jokes, even when they weren’t funny, and how she always seemed to seek him out in a crowded room, as if drawn to him by some invisible thread.
Was any of that still there? Or had it all been erased, replaced by something else— someone else?
Jeonghan swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. Please, he thought, his heart aching with the weight of his unspoken plea. Please let me still be the one.
He wanted so badly to believe that he was.
That somewhere deep inside, Luna’s heart still called for him, still craved him, still loved him. That despite everything— despite the hurt, the distance, the months of uncertainty— he was still the one she wanted.
But the fear was relentless, gnawing at the edges of his hope.
What if he was wrong? What if she had already let go? What if Mingyu had become the person she turned to, the person she leaned on, the person she loved?
The thought was unbearable, and yet it lingered, taunting him with its cruel possibilities.
Jeonghan’s eyes flickered back to Luna, watching the way she lit up in Mingyu’s presence, her smile brighter than he had seen it in months. He felt a pang of gratitude for Mingyu, for being there for her in a way that Jeonghan hadn’t been able to. But that gratitude was overshadowed by a deep, aching longing— an unrelenting desire to be the one who made her feel that way.
I can be him, Jeonghan thought, his mind racing with determination. I can be whoever and whatever you want me to be. Just don’t let go of me. Please, Nana-ya. Don’t give up on me.
The words burned in his chest, desperate and silent. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on to this hope, this fragile, flickering belief that he still had a chance.
Jeonghan just needed to know. Needed her to give him a sign, a hint, anything to tell him that he wasn’t too late.
Wait for me, he thought, his gaze softening as he looked at her. Just a little longer. Don’t let go. Don’t let me go, pretty angel.
Because if there was even the slightest chance that he was still the one, Jeonghan would fight for her. He would fight with everything he had, against every fear and every doubt, to be the person she needed.
To be the person she loved.
Jeonghan just needed her to wait. Just a little more.
He can be the one.
ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!
: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ
Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe @coralbatlampzonk @sof1eya @lyraea @jihoonsbbygirl @cocopuff2424 @okoknotco @minvxq @soulphoenix1618 @whineywheeiny @rairaine @toplinehyunjin @ateez-atiny380 @cherrylovescheol @jiimtaee @blurr3db3rry @seomisaho @amanda08319 @peanutbutterslothsstuff @cheolsboo @allthings-fandoms @mystic-megumi @sherlockbye @tastyluvr @luperque
-
chicobean liked this · 1 week ago -
lluvaika liked this · 1 week ago -
roguesthetic liked this · 2 weeks ago -
lemur-46 liked this · 2 weeks ago -
an-annyeoing-writer liked this · 2 weeks ago -
iheartme102 liked this · 2 weeks ago
-
psstming reblogged this · 2 weeks ago -
drewsfavgirl1 liked this · 2 weeks ago -
mei-ying090 liked this · 2 weeks ago -
noisilydangeroustyrant liked this · 2 weeks ago -
eurydiceofterabithia liked this · 2 weeks ago -
kimsaerom liked this · 3 weeks ago -
liyaslilies liked this · 3 weeks ago -
bbftjdr liked this · 3 weeks ago -
libra-midheaven liked this · 3 weeks ago -
youngdonkeypainteregg liked this · 3 weeks ago -
lonegryffindor2005 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
justagirllivinlifeinusa liked this · 3 weeks ago -
rambling-about-nothing-at-all liked this · 3 weeks ago -
katerinaruby liked this · 3 weeks ago -
liyaslilies reblogged this · 3 weeks ago
-
g1s33 liked this · 3 weeks ago -
vernonsaurio liked this · 3 weeks ago -
cherrypie22 liked this · 3 weeks ago
-
fran-tv liked this · 4 weeks ago -
h-chn liked this · 1 month ago -
nononbon liked this · 1 month ago -
5550126 liked this · 1 month ago -
lovergir13 liked this · 1 month ago -
boobishamaghost liked this · 1 month ago -
kifahbabyyy liked this · 1 month ago -
astalkersstuff liked this · 1 month ago -
iamso-embarassed liked this · 1 month ago -
namufication liked this · 1 month ago -
natalicss liked this · 1 month ago -
wonluhver reblogged this · 1 month ago -
maramoonyz liked this · 1 month ago -
funnyvalentine808 liked this · 1 month ago -
coshoetic liked this · 1 month ago -
anotherstydiagirl-blog liked this · 1 month ago
-
smileydinos liked this · 1 month ago -
princessminji713 liked this · 1 month ago -
lovekyr liked this · 1 month ago -
deaddcrow liked this · 1 month ago -
maymaywithu liked this · 1 month ago -
sarcasticsweetlara reblogged this · 1 month ago -
sarcasticsweetlara reblogged this · 1 month ago
-
seraphiestation liked this · 1 month ago -
ilovemingha0 liked this · 1 month ago -
novocainenoon liked this · 1 month ago
