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2baabbies · 1 year ago

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🖤 You Should Think About the Consequence (Reader x Bangchan x Felix x Hyunjin; part 1)

Crossposted under 2Babbies on Ao3 <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 (WIP)

Pairings: established relationship bangchan x reader, established hyunlix, reader x bangchan x felix x hyunjin, established minsung, background hyunbin mentioned, various hookups not detailed

Words: 7900

Summary: You have a crush on Felix and Hyunjin. Luckily, your boyfriend Chan does too. As much as you love pining together, it would be nice to let your friends know how you feel. (Inspired by Gorgeous by Taylor Swift)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

CWs: alcohol/reader is drunk at the beginning but there is no smut at this part, platonic undressing, groping without consent/reader likes it, slight exhibitionism, consensual voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, teasing, slight rough sex/marking, making love <3 mutual masturbation for hyunlix + spoilers they don’t fuck reader or chan (yet ;)))

~~~

“Naur.”

“Seriously, that’s enough.”

The giggles bubble up from your chest as Felix attempts to stare you down. His eyebrows pinch together and his eyes narrow, but despite his best efforts you see the smirk sneaking across his face seconds before he forces a pout.

“Naur.”

He grins.

“Stop. I do not sound like that.”

“Yes you do,” Hyunjin argues, which causes another round of laughter to burst out of you as Felix turns to him in astonishment.

“Wow, taking her side?”

“Her impression is impeccable, I almost can’t tell the difference.”

You squeal in delight and stumble into Hyunjin as you are racked with another round of laughter. He catches you seamlessly and drapes an arm around your waist as you let him take your weight. Felix tsks and shakes his head, then begins walking away as he unlocks his phone.

“I need to get you two home, I’m calling Chan.”

“Why?” You whine.

“Because you’re not making any sense, you’ve clearly had too much to drink.”

“Ah,” Hyunjin scoffs, “I had one drink.”

“Then you’re a lightweight, because you’re only being about as reasonable as the drunk girl.”

You blow a raspberry and rest your head on Hyunjin’s chest as he pats your hair.

“She’s a very intelligent drunk girl.”

“Mmthankyou.”

Felix shakes his head and steps away to make the call. You sway in Hyunjin’s arms for a moment, before craning your neck back to look up at him. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and smiles back at you. The distant chatter and muted music from the party happening upstairs swims in and out of your awareness. The lobby of the convention center, rented out for the company party, is empty aside from your group. Not even a desk attendant is present at this hour, but in your current state you are unable to remember why you would find your current situation embarrassing for any reason. You are pleasantly sloshed and only a little hot from the alcohol, and Hyunjin is rocking you close to him as he supports your unsteady legs. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

You giggle for the hundredth time that night and shake your head.

“Mno…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make Felix carry you out to the car.”

He winks and your heart stutters. How could Hyunjin be so charming? The golden glow from the lobby chandelier frames his head like a halo as he stares down at you with his soft, perfect, smile. Felix returns but you find yourself unable to look away from Hyunjin’s warm eyes.

“Chan didn’t answer, but Changbin is on his way to take us home.”

“He’s sober?” Hyunjin assures.

“Yeah, he hasn’t had anything to drink, he said.”

“I wonder where Chan is?”

You snort and let your head fall back as Hyunjin picks you up bridal style. He turns so you can see Felix, albeit upside-down.

“Why are you laughing now, Giggles?” The Aussie asks.

“I dunno why you even bother wondering… where Chan is- I mean at this point, I don’t.”

Felix seems surprised, from what you can register while looking up at him from your current angle, and helps Hyunjin put you in a standing position once again.The room spins in a circle before you realize Felix is turning you to face him. He cradles you in his arms and tilts his head to meet your eyes, much like Hyunjin did.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin inquires behind you.

“What?”

“What do you mean by that, what do you think Chan’s doing?”

“What? I don’t know what. Working?”

Felix abandons keeping you on your feet and scoops you up, earning him an exclamation of joy. You drop your head on his shoulder and yawn loudly.

“When did you get so strong, Lix?”

He chuckles.

“I don’t know.”

“S’not fair… I hate it, you’re too cute to be carrying me around… Both of you are too cute…”

“Ah… Is that right?”

“Roight?”

Felix sighs.

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Hyunjin comes closer to study your drooping eyes and lets out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Are you tired, baby? Want us to tuck you in for bed now?”

“Mhhmhm… Like a baby…”

“Okay, we will. With a goodnight kiss and everything.”

You giggle and nod in agreement as Hyunjin pats your head.

“Oi, Changbin,” Felix greets.

Your head is too heavy to lift and you fail to decipher the hushed words spoken between Hyunjin and Changbin. You only become aware of Felix’s silence when his chest rumbles with his soft response and he passes you over to Changbin’s arms. You say nothing and allow yourself to doze off in favor of sleeping on the car ride home.

When you come to again Felix is the one jostling you awake. You blink around in confusion at the dim room then look at him.

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, you gotta get changed.”

“Where am I?”

“Channie’s room.”

The bed sinks next to you as Hyunjin takes a seat. You grasp at Felix’s bare shoulders, shirt abandoned, bewildered that such elegant arms carried you home. No, Changbin carried you home, you think.

“Where’s Chan?”

“Not home yet, but he’ll be home soon,” Hyunjin answers.

“Can you put your pajamas on? You shouldn’t sleep in this dress,” Felix asks.

Your hands fall to the hem of your party dress then quickly yank it over your head. Felix catches the garment as you toss it aside as Hyunjin helps lead your torso into one of Chan’s long sleeves. You fall back as they work together to dress you in a pair of his sweats, then move you to the middle of the bed to tuck you in.

You groan softly and throw your arm over your eyes. Hyunjin moves it carefully and touches your forehead.

“Feel sick?”

“Mhm.”

“Was that a yes?”

“I’ll get her some water,” Felix whispers.

“Sit up again, hon.”

Hyunjin leads your arms around his shoulders then lifts you up by your back. He holds you there as you both wait for Felix to return. You nestle your chin in the crook of his shoulder and let his gentle breaths lull you to sleep. You drift back to consciousness as they coax you to take a few sips of water, the cold glass being a pleasant shock when it touches your lips. Hyunjin lowers you slowly and wipes a drop from your chin.

“Do you need anything else?” Felix asks.

“Kiss.”

“What?”

You slap your hand over your forehead then point there insistently.

“Oh.”

Hyunjin laughs and leans up to peck your clammy brow. Felix smiles against your forehead when he offers one as well.

“Anything else?” The Aussie whispers.

Your hand finds his cheek and holds it for a moment before you let it fall.

“Stay here?”

They murmur amongst themselves softly.

“I’ll stay,” Felix offers, “Until Chan gets home.”

You nod but your eyes have already long fallen shut for the night. The bed shifts and you feel Felix pull you into his figure as he curls up beside you. Hyunjin tucks the blanket in again and gives you another peck on the cheek before he leaves.

“Goodnight babies, sleep well.”

“G’nite, Jin,” Felix mumbles into your hair.

“Mhm, night…”

When you come to the next morning Felix is gone and Chan is sitting beside you, working with his laptop. He sits atop the blanket, only wearing a pair of sweats.

“Ngh.”

“Morning babe,” He chirps softly, “How’d you sleep?”

“Mhm… Too hot…”

Chan’s hand slides up from where it rests on your thigh and slips under the hem of your shirt.

“Take this off then.”

His eyes never leave the screen but his fingers tenderly caress your stomach as you struggle to pull his shirt off. They continue dancing there absentmindedly as he clicks through files and types with his other hand. You huff and toss the shirt over his head, successfully covering his face and causing him to pause.

“Something up, babe?”

He sets his laptop aside and flings the shirt away before rolling over to lay beside you. He props himself up on his elbow and leans over you as his hand moves to cup your waist.

“When did you get home?”

You trail a path with your pointer finger from Chan’s chest up to his neck, then trace the muscles there slowly. He smiles and tilts his head to rest his cheek in your palm as you cup his face.

“Not long after you. You and Lix were so cute.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I was a little jealous honestly. I carried Lix back to his room.”

“Boo.”

“Where was I supposed to sleep?”

“There’s room for three in your bed.”

He cocks his eyebrow and shakes his head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you make it to the party last night?”

He purses his lips.

“Not quite.”

“So, no?”

“I may have passed out in the studio. Changbin came and got me. And yelled at me.”

You sigh.

“Channie.”

“Hey, be a little thankful. You were doted on by two gorgeous angels thanks to my negligence.”

“I don’t think that’s the flex you think it is.”

He laughs.

“Hey, you know what’s really cute?”

“Hm?”

“Hyunjin got so flustered when I found out he was planning to spend the night in Bin’s room last night. Like we don’t already know they’re hooking up.”

You smirk as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Ah, now I’m jealous. I bet he was so cute.”

“Freakin’ adorable even.”

“Damn.”

“You know… They only try to hide it from us because they think we’re not into that sort of thing…”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I don’t think I could face the guys again if they knew how I felt about them.”

“God, I know what you mean,” He sighs as he flops onto his back beside you.

Your hands intertwine as you stare at the ceiling. He brings yours to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“You and Lix were so lovely… You really fit together so perfectly…”

“Stop fantasizing about me with other men.”

He giggles and pecks your fingers and the back of your hand.

“And Hyunjin… he has a couple hickies on the back of his neck. I wonder if he even knows about them,” Chan ponders.

“He’s a cutie…”

“You know, Hyunjin likes girls too.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me.”

“Everyone likes you. And Felix… well, he likes everyone.”

“Don’t get my hopes up, Channie.”

He turns his head to face you and you follow suit.

“I’m just saying… The option is there if you want it…”

“I do… It’ll just be a big change… I like how it is now, I don’t want to ruin it for us.”

“I know, but you won’t, baby. You’re perfect.”

“Gross.”

He scoffs.

“Just let me know when you’re ready. There’s no rush, and I want to do what makes you happy.

“And what if I want my workaholic boyfriend?”

Chan grins.

“You’ll always have me.”

“And you’ll always have me.”

He rolls over again to cage your body under his and brushes his nose against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You murmur as you lace your arms around his neck, “Even though you didn’t even give me a good morning kiss.”

He chuckles.

“Good morning,” You share a kiss, “I love you,” Another kiss, “I missed you.”

“G’morning,” You kiss again, “I love you,” You share one more lingering smooch, “You’re a dick.”

“Agh, because I missed the party?”

“Yes.”

“Oops.”

“You don’t sound apologetic.”

“Sorry,” He breathes before capturing your lips in his again.

You giggle as you separate.

“You lead the way. When you think the time is right… we’ll let them know.”

“Deal.”

You and Chan spend most of the day cuddling together, unbothered. It is not until much later that Jisung enters the room and interrupts your peace.

“Hey,” Jisung says sternly, “Stop that.”

Chan lays between your legs with his head resting on your chest. Your arms are draped over his shoulders as he works on his laptop, which rests in his lap. You have both fully dressed yourselves since the morning. You see his quizzical expression in the reflection of the screen before he answers Jisung.

“Stop… laying with my girlfriend?”

“Working. You said you would take a break today, what the Hell?”

“Oh, that’s easy: I lied.”

Jisung rolls his eyes and addresses you.

“You’re supposed to be helping us, stop enabling him.”

You kiss the top of Chan’s head and smirk as you catch his relaxed smile.

“No. He needs to make more money so I can be a trophy wife.”

Chan howls in laughter as Jisung stares in awe.

“You gold digger! Get away from him, he’s not your sugar daddy!”

You stick your tongue out as you pat Chan’s chest.

“You’re doing such a good job, daddy.”

“Thanks, babe,” Chan sighs.

“Ugh, no! Take a break! Now!”

Jisung slams the laptop shut and takes it away, leaving Chan grasping at empty air.

“Ah…”

“We’re watching a movie, get out there before I actually get angry.”

Chan makes a defeated noise and drags himself out of your embrace. You wink at Jisung.

“Thank you, Hannie.”

He blushes and shakes his head. You giggle and follow Chan to the living room, where the members are getting settled for the movie. Minho is on the couch, browsing through the options. Felix and Hyunjin are curled up together in an armchair, both scrolling through their phones. You grab one of the throw pillows and whip it at Changbin’s back, interrupting his conversation with Jeongin where they stand behind the couch.

“Hey, lovebirds, what were you doing in there?” Seungmin teases from another armchair.

“Nothing,” Chan protests, “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Were you having sex?” Jeongin asks.

“Yes,” You deadpan.

Chan turns to you sharply.

“No!”

“Crazy kids,” Seungmin comments.

“We weren’t having sex,” Chan scoffs, “Stop lying.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” You coo.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Would you prefer it if I called it making love?”

Chan scowls and gives up on arguing with you. Changbin swings the pillow back at you, which you catch with ease.

“She’s only with Chan for his money,” Jisung pipes up behind you, “She told me.”

“Yeah, I want to be a trophy wife.”

You hit Changbin with the pillow again and he cocks his head.

“I don’t think Chan’s old enough to have a trophy wife.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude.”

“Also, you could choose richer.”

“Well, how much do you make?”

Changbin smirks as Chan answers, “Not as much as me.”

Changbin finally takes the pillow and smacks you lightly with it.

“Can you guys stop flirting so we can pick something to watch?” Minho complains.

Changbin bites his lip and looks at Chan.

“Channie… Were you flirting with me?”

“Yeah,” Chan replies shyly.

You take the pillow, which Changbin still clings to with one hand, and hold it over your head as you grin at Minho. He holds up a finger in warning.

“I will destroy you.”

“In a pillow fight, right?” Jisung mumbles.

“What?” You question.

“Nothing…”

Jisung avoids your judging glare.

“You’ve lost your pillow privileges,” Changbin states as he finally pulls it away.

“C’mon…”

“So, what are we watching?” Chan redirects.

“Not horror,” Felix finally speaks up, his voice muffled where his face is pressed into Hyunjin’s chest.

Hyunjin hums in agreement.

“Let’s do drama,” Jeongin suggests.

“No,” Minho protests, “I’m not in the mood.”

Jisung gasps softly.

“My baby? Not in the mood for drama?”

“My life’s a drama thanks to you.”

Jisung whines and pouts as he drops next to Minho on the couch. The older sighs and throws an arm around him as he continues scrolling, and the younger quickly tucks himself into his side. The boys gently debate over what to watch and you resign beside Chan where he leans against the wall. He pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your shoulder as you observe the others.

You still as your eyes catch Hyunjin staring at you from his spot with Felix. Felix seems unaware, focused on his phone as Hyunjin’s eyes remain locked on yours. You offer a small smile but Hyunjin has no reaction. You feel Chan's nose at the base of your neck and finally Hyunjin looks away. You shift a bit and close your eyes as Chan pecks a barely there kiss on your neck, then rests his chin on your shoulder once again.

They finally come to a decision and everyone moves to grab snacks from the kitchen and fill the floor with pillows and blankets. You collapse on the floor once the makeshift bed is made and yawn obnoxiously into the fabric, prompting Jeongin to poke your back with his foot.

“Hey, cut that out.”

“Wake up, the movie hasn’t even started yet.”

“Mhm.”

Jeongin gives up and walks away. You lay there lazily until the blankets shift beside you, and you turn your head to see Chan getting comfortable. He smiles and pats your head endearingly.

“Sleepy?”

“Yeah…”

“C’mere.”

You groan and move into a sitting position, then slump against Chan and the couch. He chuckles and pulls a blanket over you, then wraps his arm around your shoulders. Seungmin settles back into the chair he claimed earlier with a bowl of popcorn. The couch shifts as Minho and Jisung settle in behind you, and Changbin takes a seat at the other end.

“Hey, you stole our spot,” Felix whines.

Jeongin now occupies the armchair Felix and Hyunjin were snuggled in earlier and only grins slyly as Felix pouts at him.

“Mean maknae,” You scold.

“You can sit with us, Lix,” Chan offers.

Felix does little more to argue with the youngest and shuffles over to you and Chan. He easily wedges himself between you two and curls up in your direction. Chan helps him tuck under a blanket and offers him a pillow, which he drowsily accepts. You pat Felix’s head and let him rest a hand on your thigh.

“Hyunjin, get the light?” Minho requests.

The lights dim and you hear Hyunjin’s steps pause before he joins you on the floor. He sits next to you and throws a blanket over the two of you. He takes a moment to settle in and rests his head on your shoulder once he finally does. You feel his hand roam under the blanket for a moment, before it finds Felix’s where it rests in your lap. The two intertwine fingers there, concealed under plush layers.

Soon you feel them shift again, and you fail to ignore the way they brush their hands over your thigh. Their hands disconnect and Felix cups your thigh again, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. You inhale sharply, which seems to go unnoticed as his motions go on without break. Hyunjin’s fingers spread over your thigh, then squeeze gently. Your leg spasms in response, and Chan glances over. You swallow thickly as his eyes flit over the subtle, yet undeniable, motion under the blanket.

Chan’s arm falls from your shoulder and moves around your waist, then he presses a kiss to your temple. He rests his head against yours and continues to watch the movie. Hyunjin nestles his head further in the crook of your neck and slides his hand under your thigh, then slowly gropes there. This time is a bit rougher and your core throbs from the teasing. Felix’s thumb moves a bit higher up your thigh and you let out a controlled exhale to calm yourself.

“Are you-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Minho,” You hiss.

His voice startles you at the same time his hot breath washes over your ear. Hyunjin lifts his head and draws his hand away discreetly while turning to glare behind him. Felix’s hand stills but remains where it is. Your heart pounds in your chest and you catch Felix and Chan both biting their lips to suppress their laughter.

“Sorry, are you using that blanket?”

Minho reaches past you and Hyunjin to point at one of the extra blankets on the floor, no doubt suspicious or aware of the tension growing between you. Hyunjin silently grabs the blanket and passes it to Minho, who mumbles a soft thank-you. You sigh and shove your burning face into Chan’s neck. Felix moves his hand a bit lower and pats your leg as he looks up at you with wide, gentle, eyes. Hyunjin casually yawns and rests his head on your shoulder again, but this time keeps his hands to himself.

Hesitantly, you slide your hand over Felix’s. He turns his over and caresses your fingers slowly. His fingertips follow the lines of your palm then slip down to your wrist. He soothes you with gentle touches then clasps your hands together once you have settled. You shut your eyes and will yourself to relax as the movie continues peacefully.

“Hey,” Chan’s soft voice in your ear startles you awake as the credits are rolling, “Everyone’s heading to bed now.”

“Oh, okay.”

Felix has already taken his leave, but Hyunjin is still beside you on the floor. He sits with mussed hair and a dazed expression, probably just coming to as well, and watches Chan as he helps you up from the floor. You smile at him and let Chan lead you back to his bedroom.

You stretch then sit on the end of the bed as Chan shuts his door.

“Was that okay?” He asks while kneeling in front of you on the floor.

“Y-Yeah, I liked it.”

“Good, I thought you did but I couldn’t…”

Chan allows himself to trail off as you lean in and kiss him. He hums softly and moves closer, pulling your thighs around his sides as he presses his hips into your core. You whine softly into his mouth and wrap your arms around his neck to draw him in deeper. You stay like this for a while, lightly grinding and trading heated kisses. Eventually, Chan breaks the kiss so you move to mouthing at his jawline.

“Oh, babe… You’re so… Fuck…”

“Hah… Hot, sexy, beautiful?”

“All of the above…”

He cranes his neck and lets you litter sloppy kisses where you please. He groans and pushes you back on the bed, then dives in to attack your lips. His hand slips into your pants and prods your heat gently, experimentally spreading some of the slick around with two fingers.

“Good girl.”

“Ahn…”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come on,” You cry softly when Chan separates from you.

“I’ll be quick.”

Chan cracks the door open while doing little to fix his tousled hair or wipe away the sultry kisses you left on his neck. Someone speaks and he responds by throwing the door open and pulling them in by their shirt.

“Stay here. Where’s Felix?”

“O-Okay, uh,” Hyunjin stammers, “Bathroom?”

Chan steps out and shuts the door behind him. Hyunjin braves a glimpse at you then rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as he turns away. You smirk and sit up, wiping your mouth and combing your fingers through your hair as you study him. He toys with his fingers and sways uneasily where he stands. Chan returns with Felix faster than you expected and silently shoves him into the room before shutting and standing at the door.

“Oh,” Felix gasps when he sees you, “Um, what-“

“On the bed. Sit.”

Hyunjin and Felix share a look and silently obey. You grin wildly, admiring Chan’s authority. You cross your legs and lean back on your hands as the two settle at the end of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Felix starts.

“Chan, if we did something wrong-”

“Quiet.”

Hyunjin’s mouth snaps shut and he stares in disbelief.

“As soon as I step away from this door you can go, but not a second before,” Chan crosses his arms and leans against the door as he speaks, “I know what everyone says about me. You all think I don’t know what you’re doing. Flirting, hooking up, checking us out, I see all of it. The only reason I’ve acted oblivious is to make her comfortable. I wanted her to be ready.”

You preen and watch him with admiration.

“I don’t have a problem with you putting your hands on her, but could you at least offer to give me the same treatment?”

“W-Wait,” Felix splutters, “Y-You’re not mad?”

“I’m furious that while you were feeling up my girlfriend neither of you made a move on me. Are you trying to kill my ego?”

Hyunjin bows his head and Felix laughs incredulously.

“We didn’t,” Felix reasons, “It’s not like we didn’t want to t-touch you.”

“We didn’t think you were interested, Chan. You… don’t act like her.”

You giggle and smirk at your boyfriend as his attention falls on you.

“Well?” You prod.

“You two can stay if you want, but we’re not putting our hands on you tonight. You can watch me and y/n, and that’s it; if that’s alright with you, love?”

Your body warms as you nod.

“Of course, baby.”

Chan smiles at you then turns to his friends.

“Your choice. Stay or go.”

He leaves his post at the door and drops on the bed in front of you. Felix and Hyunjin both remain seated but you are too enraptured by Chan to watch what they are doing. He tenderly cups your face and you pull him in by his shirt to complete the kiss. He chuckles and leads you to lay down again as he cups the back of your neck and begins kissing down your throat. You sigh happily as you fall back into a rhythm of kissing and grinding slowly.

You let your head fall to the side as you tug Chan’s shirt upward. In the moment he takes to remove it you let your gaze fall on Hyunjin and Felix. The cool light of Chan’s room washes over their delicate features and dimly illuminates their flushed faces. They both seem tense with anticipation, but at the same time are lounging together with ease. Felix’s lip is trapped by his teeth as he drinks in the sight of Chan trailing kisses over your neck and chest, while Hyunjin bashfully watches your reactions and curls his fingers in the bedspread. You gasp softly as Chan’s hands slide into your pants and tug at your panties.

“God, I can’t wait to have you.”

Your laughter turns into a breathy moan as he lowers your pants and presses a deep kiss into the v-line of your stomach. You pant softly as he strips you of your pants, then helps you remove your shirt. He resumes covering you with teasing kisses: from your chest, down your sternum, over your stomach, and finally between your thighs. You mewl as he avoids the wet patch growing on your panties, and scowl softly as he rises again.

“Don’t be a tease.”

“Ha, you’re so wet already.”

He presses his thumb against your clit through your panties and draws out a whining moan as he circles there slowly. Your voice is probably too loud for the late hour but you are unable to silence yourself.

“Channie…”

“I’m sorry, but look at you. Was that all it took? They barely touched you and you’re dripping.”

Your back arches as you moan pitifully. Chan takes his time pulling your panties off, savoring your desperate sounds and writhing figure.

“Chan…”

He spreads your thighs, quickly, given how pliant you are for him, and holds your panties up gracefully between his fingers.

“Are you watching? Do you see what you do to her?”

“Fuck, y/n…” Felix hisses.

You look at them and sigh softly. Felix meets your eyes easily, his lips are slightly parted as he watches you with a softness. Hyunjin’s gaze flicks away from your face for a second, then returns shyly as he watches you in silent distress. His palms rest over his crotch but he does little to relieve himself. Felix has a pillow clutched in his lap.

You prop yourself up and unclasp your bra, then let Chan remove it for you.

“Don’t you two want to cum?” You ask innocently while slowly tracing your bottom lip with your index finger. Your eyes wander over their busy hands thoughtfully, “Chan’s deal was that we weren’t going to touch you, he never said anything about touching yourselves’.”

“Fuck,” Felix growls as he digs his fingers into the pillow.

Hyunjin looks away and shyly gropes himself through his sweats. You bite your lip and glance at Chan, who watches them both with a pleased demeanor.

“She likes it when you do what she says.”

Hyunjin nods and moans softly, but hesitates to continue. He looks at Felix, who gently draws him closer.

“Come here, babe.”

“Lix…”

Felix slides his hands over Hyunjin’s abdomen, then into his pants. He whines at the contact and melts as Felix laps at his ear. Chan lowers himself between your legs and slides his hands over your thighs.

“No.”

He stops and looks up attentively then quickly rises to face you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just fuck me already.”

He laughs and gives you a heated kiss.

“I want to make sure you’re ready, baby.”

“Don't make me wait anymore, Chan. Please.”

While your voice is steady your body is shaking, anxious for some relief from the tension. Chan notes your quivering limbs and kisses you again, sweeter than before, then he tests your patience.

“Do you really need it? I’m sure you can wait a bit longer.”

“I’m serious, Chan.”

“Then prove it.”

You huff and grasp his throat as you crash your lips against his. He groans and pushes closer, following your hand as it slides around his neck then up into his hair. He obediently falls into you and groans into your mouth as you fumble to pull down his pants with your other hand. He turns his head away, breaking the kiss, and helps you slide off his bottoms as you nip at his neck.

“Are you nervous, baby?”

“Shut up.”

Chan finally kicks off his pants and boxers as he laughs at your response. You smirk and suck roughly on his ear lobe as he sighs playfully. You groan as he leans away to grab a pillow, and tucks it sweetly under your head.

“So impatient, my love. Don’t you have any appreciation for chivalry?”

“Chivalry is dead.”

He kisses your forehead tenderly.

“Mhm, you’re so cute.”

He abruptly rolls you onto your side and grasps your hips as he grinds against you. You gasp and moan as he folds himself around you and slides his cock against your heat. Gently, he turns your head to look at Felix and Hyunjin while he speaks breathlessly in your ear.

“Did you forget we have an audience?”

Your eyes flutter as he nips along your jawline. Felix is curled around Hyunjin as he thrusts into the hand still concealed beneath his sweats. Hyunjin has a hand awkwardly tucked into Felix’s pants, palming him messily. They watch you with hazy eyes between messy kisses.

“Chan…”

“Look at what you do to them.”

“Oh…”

Your cheeks flare from the attention, the circumstances suddenly becoming much clearer. Chan kisses your cheek then murmurs into your ear, “I love you so much. I love you so, so much, baby.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you ready? Do you want me now?”

“Yes…”

Chan lifts your leg over his hip and enters you with a shallow thrust. You gasp and muffle your moans in your pillow as he pulls out, then gradually pushes deeper with each subsequent thrust. He buries his nose in your neck and groans softly as his body molds into yours.

“Does that feel nice? You like it, baby?”

You nod and turn your head to kiss him messily. He returns the kiss then breaks it. You brush your lips over the bridge of his nose as he murmurs against your chin.

“Look at them, baby. Jinnie and Lix are losing it over you.”

“Hah, Chan…”

You do as told. Chan peppers kisses over your neck as you watch Felix and Hyunjin, and they watch you back.

“Touch yourself,” Chan commands.

You whimper as you slide your fingers between your legs. You tilt your head back to expose more of your neck, and sob softly as his fingers join yours to play with your clit. He kisses your ear and murmurs sweet praises between each kiss.

“That’s right, you’re beautiful, baby. So wet for me, so good. You’re such a good girl.”

“Fuck, Chan…”

“You’re so perfect. My sweet girl.”

He prods your folds gently, stretching you open even more as he slips a digit in alongside his cock. His thumb circles your clit and you abandon touching yourself, opting instead to wrap your hand around Chan’s arm and cling to him. He sucks gently at your neck as his pace quickens and you feel your climax approaching. He rocks into you recklessly, his inevitable release signaled by his shaky breaths and pointed thrusts. You try to watch Hyunjin and Felix, but your eyes struggle to focus as you are blissfully fucked out.

“That’s my babygirl. You’re so good for me.”

You moan dumbly at the praise, smothered in Chan’s love as he compliments his deep thrusts with the softest kisses. This intimacy was familiar to you, but now so overwhelming with observers. It was the same love Chan always made to you, perhaps that was why he wanted the others to watch. In one way, he was setting the standard. How to talk to you, how to touch you, how to worship you. In another way, it was a message: this is what you are missing out on if you ignore me again.

You muffle your cries of pleasure in the pillow, although you had already been too noisy, and scratch your nails over Chan’s bicep. He groans as you clench around him and quiver from the intensity of your sudden orgasm. He slides his fingers from between your legs and up to your stomach, lessening the overstimulation a bit as he chases his own release. You crane your neck to give soft kisses and whisper words of encouragement into his ear. He keeps his face tucked into your neck as he holds you tight to him, now too far gone to manage a coherent sentence.

He makes a wrecked noise, somewhere between a moan and a gasp, and fills you up with his release. You reach your hand up to cup his head and kiss his temple as he pants through the afterglow. His cock softens and he drowsily pulls out, only to collapse into your welcoming arms shortly after. You trade lazy kisses as he catches his breath and lets his hands roam over your thighs and stomach. You giggle softly and cup his face while staring into his loving eyes.

“Mhm, good job, baby.”

He laughs breathlessly.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

Chan slumps on top of you and wraps his arms around your torso. You return his hug while tracing little shapes over his back. He turns his head where it rests beside yours to face the others.

“How you doing, boys?”

“Fuck off,” Felix jokes, “You cocky bastard.”

You giggle and rub Chan’s back lazily.

“Did you two come?” You ask.

Hyunjin makes a tired noise and Felix laughs. You look back at Chan as he lowers his head to rest on your chest. Hyunjin watches you with flushed cheeks and an expression mixed with shame and anticipation. A stain darkens the crotch of his sweats. Felix is lazing against him, his eyes shut and his cheek pressed against Hyunjin’s shoulder. His eyelids lift heavily as he looks at you and smiles.

“Good boys…”

Chan laughs at their reactions to your praise: mild shock and sheepish satisfaction.

“I didn’t imagine you two would be so into the praise thing,” Hyunjin mumbles.

Chan replies, “Oh? What did you imagine? Care to share?”

“Ha… Maybe another time…”

Chan rises up and you let your arms fall above your head as your eyes flutter shut.

“Not to kick you two out, but I have to get y/n cleaned up… She’s not going to stay up much longer, as you can see.”

“Mhm…”

“Ah, but,” Felix stammers, “A-Are we good?”

“We’re more than good,” You purr.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, Lix. You and Jin should get to bed.”

“O-Okay… Um…”

You pry your eyes open to look at Felix, who struggles to choose his words under your’s and Chan’s waiting gazes.

“Is it okay if we, um… Kiss goodnight?”

“Oh, Lixie,” Hyunjin breathes.

Chan grins.

“Well… I don’t know… I’m still a bit sore about earlier…”

“Shut up,” You chastise as you reach out to Felix, “Come here, baby.”

Hyunjin laughs as Chan stares at you, appalled. Felix grins and crawls across the bed, letting you guide him close to share a few tender kisses.

“Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight.”

Felix sits up and smiles smugly at Chan, who grabs him and begins tickling him mercilessly.

“Ah-AH! I’m sorry!”

Hyunjin shakes his head as Chan squeezes Felix in his arms. Felix pouts up at him and screeches as Chan wetly kisses his cheek.

“Ugh, no tongue! Please!”

You look patiently at Hyunjin, who looks away as he notices you.

“You don’t want to kiss me, Jinnie?”

“Ah… No, I do…”

“You’re so shy, you’ve kissed me before.”

“Not… When you’re naked…”

You both look at Felix as he gasps, he is still wrapped in Chan’s arms but now the two are sharing a deep kiss. You watch Hyunjin contemplate before slowly making his way to you. You smile patiently as he hovers over you, and slowly shut your eyes.

“Goodnight, Hyunjinnie…”

“Goodnight,” He whispers before planting a kiss on your cheek, “Sleep well.”

“Ugh, Chan,” Felix groans, “This is weird.”

“Why? What do you mean weird?”

“You’re naked…”

“I just let you watch me fuck my girlfriend, and since when do you have a problem with me being naked?”

You peek up at Hyunjin and gently caress his cheek as he moves away from you. Chan drops Felix on the bed and rolls his eyes.

“Get out of my room already, you little monster.”

You snicker as Chan turns his attention to Hyunjin, who lets himself be led closer to receive a soft peck on the cheek. Hyunjin’s face burns as he shyly returns one, then follows Felix up from the bed.

“Goodnight,” Chan sings.

“Goodnight,” Felix replies.

Hyunjin smiles at the two of you and waves as he and Felix depart. Chan looks back at you as the door clicks shut and exhales softly.

“I think that went well.”

You giggle.

“I think so too.”

Your eyes fall shut again as a yawn escapes your lips. Chan chuckles and leans down to kiss your cheek.

“It’s alright, love. I’ll clean you up, you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Thanks baby…”

By the time you roll out of bed the next morning nearly everyone has gathered in the kitchen for breakfast. Felix is making pancakes, Hyunjin is waiting at the coffee machine, Jeongin and Jisung are eating at the table, and Changbin is chatting with Felix.

“Good morning, nuna,” Jeongin sings as you take a seat across from him.

“Good morning everyone,” You smile at the soft chorus of voices that reply, “What’s on the agenda today?”

“We were just talking about it,” Jisung answers, “We’re split between staying in and going out.”

Seungmin shuffles in and hovers beside Hyunjin. Changbin delivers a plate of fresh pancakes to you and smiles at your surprised reaction.

“No, Binnie, you should eat these ones.”

“I’m good, I already ate.”

“I’ll take them,” Seungmin mutters.

“Ladies first,” Changbin argues.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” Felix comments.

“Thank you, oppa,” You purr, which Changbin waves off with a wink, “And thank you for making breakfast, Lix.”

“No problem.”

Felix shoots you a smile over his shoulder and you notice a soft blush on his cheeks. You smile and let your gaze linger until he turns away.

“Are you going to drink the coffee or just stare at it?” Seungmin asks Hyunjin.

“Oh,” Hyunjin mumbles, “I’m drinking it.”

Hyunjin glances over his shoulder as you giggle then quickly looks away, but you still see redness in the tips of his ears. The interaction does not go unnoticed. Jeongin and Jisung both glance between you and the boys and give you curious glares. Chan enters the kitchen with only a towel around his waist. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and the marks you left on him last night are on full display. He claps his hands together as Minho files in behind him.

“What’s cooking?”

“Felix is making pancakes,” Changbin replies.

“I’m next,” Seungmin cuts in.

“Noted,” Chan replies.

He stops beside you and kisses your temple.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

“Morning, love,” You hum, “Did you sleep well?”

“Oh, the best.”

You giggle as Chan gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. You hold a bite up for him and he happily accepts it, then gives you a quick peck on the nose.

“Get a room,” Changbin heckles.

“Looks like they already did,” Minho mutters.

“Get some clothes,” Seungmin groans.

Chan rolls his eyes and leans down to accept another bite before stepping away. You continue eating your breakfast in silence then notice Jeongin silently trying to catch your attention. You tilt your head as you watch him try to discreetly mime questions.

“We were thinking of heading out for dinner tonight,” Changbin informs the room, “But how do you guys feel?”

Chan moves across the room to grab a glass from the cupboard, standing beside Hyunjin in the process. He drinks his coffee and averts his eyes. Jeongin points to the two then wiggles his finger between them.

“I’m good with anything,” Chan answers.

“Where would we go?” Minho asks.

You shrug, feigning ignorance, and Jeongin glares.

“What’s a good place that we haven’t been to in a while?” Changbin ponders.

Jeongin then points to Hyunjin then you. You smirk and scrunch your face up as you feign consideration then shake your head. He responds by raising his eyebrow and tapping his fingers together as you fail to convince him. Jisung looks between you then repeatedly gestures to Felix with his eyes.

“Wasn’t there an Italian place near here or something?” Chan answers.

“That place is always full,” Hyunjin murmurs, “You need to reserve months in advance.”

“Oh, true.”

“I mean,” Felix pipes up, “If we stay in I can just make dinner?”

“No,” Changbin protests, “You made breakfast, you shouldn’t have to make dinner too.”

You roll your eyes at Jisung and shake your head, but still smile coyly as they stare you down. You happen to glance at Minho, who is watching Chan from across the room. Your boyfriend stretches, showing off the muscles in his back, then takes his glass to the fridge to pour a drink. Hyunjin stares at the floor, but his fingers curl around the edge of the counter with visible strain.

The conversation continues in the background, but you find yourself distracted by Jeongin’s senseless gesturing. You realize he is pointing at your phone and pick it up to read the newly sent messages.

in: why is felix staring at you like that

in: did you fuck or what?

You glance at Felix, who seems to be sneaking glances at you as he converses with the others. Jisung leans across the table to peek at Jeongin’s phone and creates a new groupchat for the three of you.

js: tell ussss

js: ;(

You shake your head at them.

js: whyyyy

js: jinnie can’t even look at you or chan

js: we have to knowww

js: plus

js: lino saw them leave your room last night

js: sus af

in: you have to tell us!

in: it’s so obvious you guys did something

Jeongin and Jisung both pout at you. You sigh.

yn: they were with us last night

yn: jin and lix

in: what did you do?

yn: they just watched chan and I

Jisung’s eyes widen and his mouth makes an ‘o’ as Jeongin grins devilishly.

in: kinky

yn: that was it

js: so far? ;))

Jeongin snickers and you cover your face.

yn: don’t tell anyone

yn: >:(

yn: I mean it

Jeongin makes a lip-locking motion and Jisung nods solemnly while crossing his heart.

yn: also, I think your boyfriend is eye-fucking my boyfriend

Jeongin points to himself, confused, and mouths ‘boyfriend’. Jisung rather indifferently nods at you in agreement then shoots Jeongin a judgemental glare.

js: you don’t even have a boyfriend so she was obviously talking to me

in: oh right

Jeongin looks embarrassed as you grin at him.

“What the fuck are you three doing?” Seungmin interrogates.

“Mind your business,” Jisung sasses.

The other members seem to clue in to your absence in the current conversation.

“What were they doing?” Chan asks.

“I don’t know, but I think they’re texting each other.”

Changbin comes to look over your shoulder and you quickly lock your phone before slamming it facesidedown on the table.

“What are you talking about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Changbin rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab your phone. While futile, you attempt to wrestle it back by grabbing his arm.

“What’s her passcode, Chan?”

Chan smirks and shrugs as he watches you throw more of your weight helplessly against Changbin.

“I don’t remember.”

“Liar.”

“Let go or I’ll bite you.”

“You’re not going to bite me.”

You unhinge your jaw and clamp down on Changbin’s bicep, earning a startled screech as he abandons his mission and skitters away.

“You bit me!”

“She warned you,” Chan defends.

“It’s rude to kiss and tell,” Minho teases while shooting you a knowing look.

“It wasn’t a kiss, hyung!” Changbin argues.

“It’s also rude to stare, Lee Know,” You retort.

Minho smiles smugly and shrugs. Jisung grins at the two of you and hurriedly refocuses the subject on your plans for the day.

“Why don’t we just order in? That way none of us have to cook and we don’t have to worry about getting ready to go out.”

“What should we do in the meantime?” Felix asks.

“I’m going to do nothing all day,” You announce proudly.

“I like that idea,” Jeongin agrees.

“You have to practice being a trophy wife?” Seungmin remarks.

“I want to be the best.”

“I have work to do,” Chan laments.

There are multiple exclamations of protest and Chan throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll be done by dinner, I promise.”

“Channie,” Changbin whines, “You’re no fun.”

“I think he’s fun,” You murmur while winking at your boyfriend.

He winks back and gives Changbin an ‘I told you so’ look. Changbin lightly bops the back of your head and points at Chan.

“Go to horny jail, the both of you.”

Jisung raises his eyebrows suggestively at you and Jeongin snickers into his hands. You brave a glance at Hyunjin, who is watching Chan with a fond smile. Felix looks similarly lovestruck. Your heart stutters watching them.

“Can I bring my laptop to horny jail?” Chan jokes, bringing you back to reality.

“No.”

“Aw.”

#lol she really does #tysm for reading!! <3 #fic feedback

329 notes · View notes

2baabbies · 1 year ago

Text

bodyguard: the first guard | part five | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. this chapter contains explicit sexual content. this chapter also has a content warning for descriptions of torture and dehumanization, plus the aftermath of trauma, themes of identity loss and healing. the previously established story dynamics are prevalent. chapter word count: 10,200 words.

enjoy <3

B E FO R E

Felix returns to the base and he is scrutinized, as expected. They all want to know why he was taken, what the enemy wanted, how he escaped. Felix has never played so many sides all while obfuscating his real objective. Alone, he guides himself through the venomous viper’s pit that is this war: Miroh and his enemy, Miroh and the world.

Where it concerns the enemy, Miroh will always intervene. He sees the enemy as the antithesis to the house of Miroh. A rich, spoiled fool, holed up in his golden cave, oblivious to what he has and the work it takes to acquire it. Miroh is jealous. Miroh is hateful.

Those are emotions that Felix can manipulate. He learned it from the best.

“It was an ambush,” Felix tells him. “They knew I was going to be there. They were waiting for me.” He uses his reputation, formed by Miroh, against Miroh.

Felix would never lose a fight. Felix would never fail a mission. Felix would never surrender. Felix is a reflection of Miroh so he presents the most flattering image.

“What information did they want?” Miroh asks.

Felix can see the gears spinning in his head. What could the enemy be seeking so determinedly to lay a trap for Miroh’s asset? Oh, Miroh has a suspicion. Felix can see it, because he knows exactly what it is.

“They asked about Project Twenty-Three,” Felix says. “I told them I had never heard of it. Even if I had, I wouldn’t tell them anything.”

Project Twenty-Three. Chris has vented about it to Felix. It is a cyber mission, striking against the enemy’s tightly guarded servers. It intends to blackout the grid and lay virtual traps while they re-calibrate, compromising not only the enemy but everyone else on that grid: civilians, their homes, their hospitals, their shelters.

It is a significant job for its scope and because it is the first time a mission will be helmed by Miroh’s daughter.

Miroh’s daughter, Chris says, intends to sabotage the operation.

It is Felix’s worst fears coming true. Miroh’s daughter rebelling against Miroh is doomed to be a catastrophe. She will inevitably go down and when that blaze tears through the sky, Chris will crash and burn in a similar inferno. He is too blinded by proximity, too idealistic to see how it is impossible to truly destroy a man like Miroh.

No one but classified personnel are supposed to know about Project Twenty-Three. Miroh’s daughter let it slip to Chan, who let it slip to Felix. As far as Miroh is concerned, Felix should not know about it. As far as Miroh is concerned, Felix is telling the truth.

As far as Miroh is concerned, someone is leaking highly sensitive data to the enemy.

“I’m smarter than that, though,” Felix says. He appeals to all that haughty vanity and says, “I was trained by the best. Of course I got away.”

“Of course,” Miroh says. Where before, he was wary, his guard comes down.

Felix can sneak in. Felix can lay his attack.

“What else did they say?” Miroh asks.

“I overheard them,” Felix says. “They’re going to try and kill you. And it’s going to happen inside your house.”

The trap is laid.

P R E S E N T D A Y

Miroh only put one soldier through a reconfiguration program. And it wasn’t me. It was you.

Chan looks at you as if you shot him even though he was the one who fired at you.

The words land with more violence than a bullet.

It can’t be true. That is your first reaction: denial. He is lying or he is confused or something, something, something. Anything but whatever he just said.

He tries to step towards you. You look at him and think of the First Guard: him in that corridor, a hand around your neck. He fought just enough to make it real, the way you and Changbin sometimes fight, but it never went too far, did it? You think back to that first fight in the ring. You commended yourself for lasting so long, but that should have been a hint. You would not have lasted a round with the First Guard on a good day, never mind after fighting several others. He never came at you with the full brunt of his fatal capacity like you would expect, like you should have considered at the time.

His eyes in the van, the tilt of his head.

Trusting as your car stopped an inch from his body.

His hands out like you were a wild, unpredictable animal, a weapon, something lethal he had to contain. It’s me, he said. It’s just me. As if you knew who that was.

He does the same thing now. You wrench away from him.

“No,” you say.

He says your name but it doesn’t sound like a name; it sounds like begging, it sounds like please, it sounds like desperation, painfully barbed on his tongue. You half expect him to start bleeding from the mouth.

“No,” you say again. You jerk away even though he has stopped reaching for you. You feel a phantom hand on your chest and on your head, a cold fire in your veins.

You slam shoulders as you dart past. He says your name again, this time like an alarm, only barely short of a scream as he chases after you. You get as far as the door before he catches you, his hand wrapped around your bicep and your name a weapon on his lips.

“Stop it,” you say. It isn’t loud but it is brutal all the same.

He lets go as if you electrocuted him.

You look at him. He stares back, all that begging in his dark eyes.

“You can’t – you can’t leave,” he says. His panic bubbles into frustration and he says, “You just told me off for doing that, didn’t you?”

You think of him on that rooftop, not even blinking at Miroh’s dead body, like he couldn’t care less, his eyes rivetted to you alone.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

You think he would rather get hit. A moment of pain, a scar to join the others. Instead, he has to endure the intensity of your eyes, suffer whatever fucked up expression is haunting your body, and then he has to let you go.

You do not look at his face when leaving. You don’t want to see this side of him. There are already too many versions of him in your head, just as there are too many versions of yourself.

The denial does not last long. You walk through the brisk night, destination nowhere. The sky feels too big.

It’s preposterous, isn’t it? You are in your body right this moment, looking at the world with your own eyes. How can anything be wrong inside? But even while attempting to convince yourself otherwise, you know the truth. It has been long unfurling in the back of your mind. You have not felt like yourself for days, maybe weeks, maybe the entire three months since this downfall began.

You don’t even remember what it means to feel like yourself.

All the nightmares, the visions, the flashes of dreams that feel more like memories – maybe memories is exactly what they are. So suppressed it feels like watching a movie rather than your own life, but your story regardless. Sifting through those fragments feels like searching through rubble in a collapse. How are you ever expected to find a person under that much annihilation?

When it happens, Changbin said, what feels like a lifetime ago. When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…”

A sob rips out of you. You have cried more in days than you have in years. You cover your face and fall into the dark of your closed eyes. You see your friend, not a fragment or broken memory, but a whole person. The scar on your palm twinges, reminding you that you are real and here.

Remember me, he said.

That was the very first thing you did. You saw him on that rooftop and you remembered something. Him, younger, bleeding, emerging from a fog of smoke. He lifted a weight off your chest. He made you a promise.

You try to chase the memory of that dream, try to hold the image of him in your mind, but it moves like water through a sieve. It’s like he’s standing right there, just in the corner of your eye if you could only turn your head to look. But you are trapped in place. Pinned down, a weight on your chest.

You lose track of time under the stars. You are too numb to feel the cold. Only when the sky purples with the very earliest streak of dawn do you move. You look at your feet as you walk and it feels like someone else is moving you. You know it’s just exhaustion, a trick of the weary eye, but a shudder moves through you.

You don’t want to think about it. Whenever your mind starts to go there – to that room, to that hole, to the cell – it backs away screaming. It is probably why you can’t hold any picture for longer than a second.

A small part of you still rebels, insisting it isn’t true because it’s can’t be true, but you know intrinsically that it is.

This confirmation solidifies when you get back to the room and find Chan still awake, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands.

He lifts his head. You can’t hold his gaze for long, swallowed up by the dark depth that sees something in you, far beyond the surface, buried so deep you can’t find it.

You turn away. You climb into bed.

It isn’t an escape. You know that, even as you close your eyes and shut out the world. It’s all waiting for you there, your subconscious caught in a perpetually crashing tidal wave.

You fall asleep, ready to face the nightmares.

It feels like swimming against an acidic current. You push through but it bears down; you struggle but it burns your skin, sloughs down to the clean marrow. Pieces of you are lost to the tide. You try to catch each flaking sliver of personhood but then your arms are full and you can no longer swim.

You are going to drown.

“Let go,” says a voice, colder than the water. “This will all stop. Just let go.”

Just let go. Just let your skin unravel. Just let the tide take it away. You will never get it back. You will be a living corpse, a half-consciousness puppeting your bones.

You decide to drown. You slip further and further into the blackness behind your lids.

“Hey, it’s me! I’m coming!”

Changbin.

You can hear his footsteps as he thunders towards you, but you can’t see him. Your eyelids are so heavy, as if being held shut by a hand in the water.

Another hand reaches straight through the corrosive cold and seizes your face in a desperate grip.

“Wake up,” Changbin says. He taps your cheek repeatedly, a little harder each time, a little more frantic. “Hey, wake up. Please. Please wake up.”

It feels like he is prying your eyes open. One moment there is nothing but darkness, then Changbin is there. He looks like he did when you last saw him, grown, fight-ready, a little scar on his face. It bleeds more than such a tiny mark should. A droplet hits your cheek, burning hot compared to the water.

“It’s me,” he says. “Hold on. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go. I promise I’ll get you out.”

Don’t go. Don’t go. An echoing reverberation that circles the wooden beams high above your head. You look there, staring at the ceiling as your lungs slowly fill with oxygen.

The ceiling shatters in a spray of splinters, the world vanishing in a cloud of grey smoke. Changbin is gone and your father stands over you, keeping that weight on your chest with a press of his fist.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he says, and plunges you back under water. Ice cold currents and electric hot fire twine in and around you in an unfathomable vice. Your vision flickers as you twitch and flail, avoiding one sensation to succumb to the other.

“Don’t go,” Changbin says. “I promise I’ll get you out.”

Another bolt of lightning slices through you.

“Just let go.” A cold and clinical voice.

There is a war between those voices. Time passes slowly as you volley in the current, slamming into one or the other.

In the bubbling frenzy, you hear a whisper.

“Let her go.” That is not Changbin. That is not your father. It’s too soft – soft, until it’s not, until it sounds like speaking through an open chest cavity, heaving up its heart with every cry. “Please,” the voice begs. “Let her go.”

“Thank me,” your father says. He stands with his back to you, angled just enough you can see the gun in his hands. You can’t see the person on the receiving end. You just know it’s a soldier. You just know it’s a boy.

You have to stop it. The thought overwhelms you and you reach for the gun, but your hand never makes contact, splashing through cold water.

“Subject recognizes control,” says that clinical voice.

There is a hand on your chest. It pushes you back under water.

You are alone in the current and the corrosion and the cold. The hand pushes you deeper and deeper into the endless darkness under you.

You are going to drown. You are going to let yourself drown.

“You don’t want to do that,” you say.

Your father still has a gun in his hand. It is pointed at that boy.

“Subject— Control—”

You need to get that gun. You need to swim. You need to see him. You need to save him.

You finally let go.

You open your eyes.

Unlike in your dreams, it’s fast. You jolt awake in a cold sweat. The ceiling is unmoving, the air cool and dry from the motel’s cheap, noisy air conditioner. The blinds are closed but the neon light outside the window creates a fuzzy square halo. It brightens the room just enough to see the outline of everything clearly.

That includes Chan.

He is still awake. If this was just one night ago, you would tell him to get into bed and sleep because you can’t have him tired for the mission. But now, you find yourself staring back at him, at his bare and open face, his tired eyes and the uncomfortable tension in his shoulders.

When you went to sleep, he was sitting on that same chair in the corner, and it looks like he hasn’t moved once. He’s been waiting for you.

He’s been waiting a lot longer than one night. If she ever came back to me, he said, revealing years of hope, of watching, waiting for you to break through your conditioning and show him a sign. He was never brainwashed, just trapped in a precarious situation, bound to a bargain with no way out that didn’t compromise you. He could have saved himself at any time but it wouldn’t have mattered.

“You were never reconfigured,” you say.

“No.”

The question and answer breaks a dam. A flood of questions pour to the front of your mind, overwhelming you, taking you back to your dreams where you almost drown – again and again. You remember the report, stating too much recollection could trigger some kind of breakdown. Yes, you could ask Chan to tell you everything, to string together all those gaps in your nightmares, but you already know that would not help. It would either feel like a story about a girl you do not know, or it would just throw you deeper into the whirlpool.

You let those questions turn over themselves like a crashing wave. When it settles, you ask the one question that remains.

“Were we friends?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He leans forward, puts his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands under his chin. He is impossibly strong but right now he looks too weak to support himself.

“No,” he finally says. His eyes dart to the floor. “No, we weren’t friends.”

He looks at you and you fall into the unspoken story within his eyes. You have been conversing without words since you met. He has been looking at you with that wanting tilt and desperate stare since he stepped into the ring.

You remember a fragment from a dream. Him, younger, his face ravaged with tears and his mouth open on a muted shout. It would be easy to mistake that as him being tortured, his pain that palpable. But your memory is not of his suffering, just his watching, just his waiting.

All this time, he has been waiting.

“Did you love me?” you ask.

This answer comes faster, but rougher as if guarding against vulnerability. His voice is low.

“Yes.”

A phantom spark fires up your arm, straight into your heart.

“Did I love you?” you ask.

He holds your gaze, though it feels like he is looking just a little past you, seeing something you can’t see. Then again, maybe he doesn’t see it, maybe he is just searching, and maybe he comes up empty. Because when he answers, his voice is airy, and the word is like a hiss of pain, like getting hit in the chest and all the air leaving the body at once.

“Yes,” he says.

You feel the weight of that hit too. Wavering under the force of it, you blurt, “I don’t remember.”

“I know,” he says. He drops his head into his hands and rubs his palms over his face, scrunches his eyes shut tight and shakes his head. “I know.”

You want to go to him. You are not sure where the urge comes from because, despite what he said, you have never loved like that. Is it something buried inside you, something that remembers? Maybe it’s just you, who you are now, the person who has spent the last few days with this man at her side. His proximity has been a confusing comfort from the start. Maybe it’s a memory or maybe it’s just him.

You stand before thinking it through. He doesn’t even notice, a sign this competent soldier is very far gone, his face still buried in his hands. When you touch his shoulder, it catches him off guard, both arms jolting as if stung.

He looks up at you, his hand instinctively flying to the one you rest on his shoulder. He clasps it, holds it there, presses it down like he needs convincing it is real.

He meets your eyes. You do not know what you look like; you just know it hurts him, that it makes everything so much worse.

A child-like sob punches out of him. His eyes close tight, his face going red as he fights to hold it in. He cried earlier and it looked like the typical outpouring of stress and hurt, but it did not look like this.

After that first sob, reminiscent of the little boy he never really was, years of torment come tearing violently out of his chest. Flashes of memories melt with the sight, his young face twisted as he wails, that muted shout filled in with his voice now.

He holds his forehead, doubles over. When you see the top of his head, those other images fade away. It is just him, here, now. Whoever he is, he has been good to you. Your hand is still on his shoulder and he is still clinging to it.

“Chan,” you whisper. You’re not sure if he hears it, but his breath catches when you nudge him upright. You are certain he can’t see very well through his tears, but he looks up anyway.

When you climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, he does not hesitate to throw his arms around you. His hands find your back and he presses you so close, it feels like he is trying to push you right into his heart. He puts his face in your neck where he fights to steady his breathing.

You touch the nape of his neck. You shiver at his long exhale.

You feel miserable and choked for a myriad of reasons. For him, everything he as endured and lost. For you, who doesn’t even know what she lost at all.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His breathing is less laboured, though his voice sounds sore. He exhales again, some tension leaving his shoulders where you rest your hands.

You squeeze those shoulders and lean back to look at him. His expression is more than a little abashed, gaze uncertain. You are not good at smiling but you try, even though you think your brows are furrowed and his sorrow is reflecting back through your eyes.

“Thought we agreed to stop apologizing,” you say.

His laugh is as weak as your smile, but certainly there. You touch his face with your scarred palm, feel the curve of his jaw where that wound runs sharpest. You think you can only touch him because of that scar. You used to balk at the sight of someone else’s tears, even deride them. You don’t remember being a lover. You didn’t even realize you had a friend until it was too late.

You might not know who you are, and you might not know how to describe how you feel, but you certainly understand it feels different, and you certainly know what kind of person you do not want to be anymore.

So you do not rip your hand away. You curl a tuft of hair behind his ear.

“I just—” You trip over your own words, wishing you were a better speaker, more personable and warm than your stiff recitation. “I can’t be that person,” you say. “I don’t know what person I will be, but I’m not – I can’t—”

“I know,” he says, sincere. He is holding your waist and he gives it a small squeeze, a reassuring touch that moves through you with a burst of warmth. It simmers in your bloodstream when he smiles – his eyes still sorrowful despite the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t wish you were someone else,” he says. With a wince, he says, “I wish I was.”

Your stomach twists in an awful knot. You think of all that blood on his hands. Despite his efforts to keep it away from you, you feel it on yourself. You have to close your eyes to push away the flood of images, unsure which are imaginative fabrications and which are potential memories. You just know he looks too young to have that kind of red on him.

You open your eyes and look at him. His eyes are open but his gaze is faraway, lost in thought. You touch a tendril of curly hair, feel it under your fingers like you have the past couple nights. He looks at you with eyes that have already shared multiple conversations.

“I wish you hadn’t suffered,” you say. “I don’t think anyone should suffer that way. I don’t think the ends justify the means anymore. But also I—”

Even while your heart is changing inside, getting those words outside is a different struggle entirely.

Chan looks at you with that tilt to his head, that questioning brow, his eyes a lot softer with his curiosity. Your breath is jagged, a messy gasp as you gather yourself. You look away, wholly incapable of maintaining eye contact.

“I got in the car with the First Guard,” you say. “Not with some other version of you. This soldier. This Chan.” You look down at your hands, absent-minded in the way you move them, from his shoulders down to his chest. “This is the man I trusted,” you say. “The one I still do.”

Your eyes lift. They meet his. His expression is a mix of confusion and amazement.

His lips part with a question, but it gets caught. He stares a little longer, then he asks, “Why?”

An unexpected laugh bubbles and bursts right out of you.

“I have no idea,” you say, giving in to that bubbly feeling, letting it fill your chest and lift you up like a safety raft. “I don’t know anything at all.”

You realize there is something freeing in that thought. No, you don’t know who you are. No, you don’t know what is going to happen past right now. You have to save your friend. You have to end your father’s business. Everything else, the becoming of you and the world and your place in it, is unanswerable. You can’t find blueprints or scour maps or form battle strategies. You don’t know where the water leads. You just have to swim.

“Maybe it doesn’t even matter,” you say with a shrug. “I don’t know. Nothing about yesterday, nothing tomorrow—”

“Just right now,” he says.

His voice is a little lower. Just right now. That was the pact you made the other night.

Your whole body comes alight, waking from the ice cold state it has been frozen in. It warms under his palms on your hips and where his dark eyes roam.

“Just right now,” you repeat as softly. You look at your hands again, realize more consciously how intimately they rest on his chest. Rather than retract, you swipe your thumb across the exposed strip of skin where his flannel is buttoned askew. “Maybe that’s all I need to know.”

This right now feels different than before. You don’t blame his emotional reaction to your earlier intimacy if it was an affect of all his memories, all he had lost, and all he was. You think your straightforward trust in him – not in spite of his identity, but because of it – has shifted things again. Your hands on his chest and your words in the open seem to have changed the shape of this whole room.

“I’m the First Guard,” he says. His eyes drop to your mouth then back up. “You’re Miroh’s daughter.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. “And no, I’m not.” You see the shiver that moves through him when you run your hands up his chest and curl your hand around the back of his neck. You feel his thighs get tense under yours, his whole body reacting. “Say my name,” you say.

When he does, it is not like a weapon or alarm, but spoken in a way that makes you feel like you have never heard your name spoken properly before that moment.

You kiss him first and this time it lands deliberately, catching him mid-breath and stealing the rest of it. When you start to lean away, to see if it’s all right, he puts his hand on the back of your head, curls his fingers in your hair, and draws you right into him, stealing back that breath with a desperate kiss.

In a way, this is familiar to you. You always liked and used sex as a grounding exercise. You feel present in your body, regardless of how floaty and detached you felt before. From the tingling top of your head to the curling of your toes, you feel every inch of yourself, alive and hot.

But it feels different too. You were always eager to chase the high, to reach the final destination with little care for the journey. You realize, maybe, it is about the becoming, itself.

“Chan,” you say, squeezing his hips between your legs when he runs his hands under your shirt. You climbed into bed still wearing your pants and shirt, wishing differently now as you rock your body against his.

You buck a little eagerly, sensations going to your head quicker than intoxication. Chan brings you back down, shushing you gently, guiding your open mouth back to his. He kisses you slowly, touches you like he is memorizing every contour. You make a sweet sound into his mouth, cupping his face as you kiss him back.

“Can we—” you start.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, yes.”

You stand on shaky legs and strip your bottom layers away. The few seconds apart are dizzying, the whole world around him fuzzy as that neon yellow light leaking into the room. Because he is staring at you, looking dazed and dishevelled, it takes him longer to unbutton his jeans than it did for you to remove your pants altogether. You climb back onto his lap and do not help at all, distracting him with another kiss.

A kiss always felt like a waste of time, but you think you could content yourself with just kissing him forever. Slow or fast, gentle or needy.

You are kissing when he gets inside you, gripping your bare thighs with a possessive hold that will feel tender tomorrow. You luxuriate in the pleasure and the pain, your body yours, shared with him, reciprocated in turn.

Whatever else existed – or could exist – ceases to matter for a time. You come together and come apart in each other’s arms, chests pressed together, hearts racing against each other. You tug his hair and pull his face into your neck, moaning under the press of his teeth and the heat of his lips.

“Mm, fuck,” he groans into your skin, clutching your hips even tighter, rocking up into you while you roll down against him. His gentle curse has you whimpering, his mouth on your throat making you shake. “Mm, get all tight when I bite you, you know,” he murmurs, and leaves no time for argument or embarrassment because he nips at your neck again. You do exactly what he said, clenching around him with an involuntary shudder.

“Fuck,” is all you say. He breathes a laugh against your skin.

You clutch his shoulders when he gathers you and stands, moving the couple small steps towards the bed where he lays you out. You are apart for only seconds, but you feel so cold and empty that it is almost terrifying. When he shucks his jeans and gets back on top of you, you unbutton his shirt with shaking fingers, body in convulsions from the angle he is fucking you.

You have never been fully alive in your body until right now.

You come while he fucks you and you come again, when he puts his hands on you, like he really does need to feel every inch of you with his searching fingers. When he keeps touching you, you are so stimulated you slap his chest, making him smile at your loss of words.

You lay in a tangled heap, your legs twined together. Your shirt is gone and his is unbuttoned, your cheek on his chest as he lays on his back. You let yourself be a little lulled by the cadence of his breathing.

Your eyes eventually wander. You realize the sun has joined that neon light, the fuzzy halo around the window now a clearer glow. The day is beckoning. It brings you back to reality, to the world outside this re-shaped room.

“I know I need to face it eventually,” you say. “I don’t know what will happen. But right now – I can’t be distracted from the mission. I need to rescue Changbin. I need to stop my father.”

Miroh is dead but everything he did haunts you, like a ghost around every corner. You can’t afford to confront the other ghosts, including your own.

“Whatever happens after right now,” you say. “I guess I’ll see.”

“I understand,” Chan says. He is caressing your spine, fingertips stroking up and down the slope of your back. He scratches a little at the nape of your neck, making you hum in contentment. “Really,” he says. “I know things got crazy earlier but… I think right now… I can do right now.”

You look up at him. He smiles down at you, dimples digging into his cheeks. You have to look away, because you just promised yourself no distractions, but that smile causes a flush of warmth that goes beyond the physical.

“Well,” you say with a sigh, patting his chest. “Maybe by then you and me will be friends for real.”

You feel his body stiffen, shoulders dropping, the hand on your nape freezing. You look up to see his face, a questioning brow quirked. He is returning the expression, though his countenance is a little more drole.

“What?” you say.

He answers with a firmer grip on the back of your neck. He rolls you over, onto your back, keeping your head lifted in his hand. The length of his open flannel drapes over your warm skin, a soft tickle as he leans down and kisses you. It starts gentle but doesn’t last, his tongue parting your lips and the hot, needy press of his mouth pinning you to the bed and his arms. You kiss back but hardly keep up, dizzy with breathlessness as he licks into your mouth, as he chases down the breath of you, as he keeps your lips on his for as long as he possibly can.

Then he leans to one side. His breath tickles your neck before he kisses just below your ear. He whispers, “I don’t want to be friends.”

He looks at you with a far too innocent dimpled smile. You think Chan might be a bigger threat to your well-being than the First Guard.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “Noted.”

You open the blinds. Once the room is full of sunlight, you revert to soldiership and work on your next strategy.

There is no doubt the Miroh corporation is floundering in a state of panic. They are not only dealing with the loss of its boss and heir, but also destabilizing insider attacks on various sectors while vulnerable. On top of everything else, stocks have plummeted and investors are running for their lives and their wallets.

You and Chan have watched the company as well as the social reaction. With different leaks and financial fallouts, especially given Miroh’s connections to governmental and military divisions, it is no surprise that different stories have been cycling through the news. You have kept an ear on the radio and an eye on tv stations.

As you scour blueprints and map your next manoeuvre, you have the news playing at a low volume in the background. They are currently reporting the combustion of a Miroh facility. Their research and sources have led them to deduce it is an inside job.

That much is fairly obvious as no one else could do what you and Chan are doing, though you are not suspects. The media believes you are dead, that both you and your father were assassinated at the same time. You are not sure if the company honestly believes you died, that the First Guard killed you then disappeared without Miroh to corral him, or if they reported that so they could kill you without a fuss in the future.

There are no reports on Chan, of course. No one outside of Miroh’s world even knows he exists.

The major suspects are disgruntled investors and former employers, so far mostly scientists and research assistants given the targeted facilities. With some of the government leaks, there are also theories that some deals with legislators went sour and resulted in a target being painted over the name Miroh.

This seems to the angle the current report is taking. At first, you are only half-listening, as the news reporter does not mention anything you have not heard before.

Then you catch the latter half of a sentence you are not expecting.

“—of greater potential concern as this latest attack was on a military base.”

Both you and Chan whip your heads up at the same time.

You have not attacked any military bases.

“Turn that up,” you say.

Chan is already on his feet and moving towards the bed where the remote was discarded. He turns up the volume on the television and you both watch the report.

It is not impossible that a domino effect could ripple from one facility to the next. The more attacks you make – targeting all the little chinks in Miroh’s armour – the more likely it is that certain institutions will collapse entirely on their own. Either people will chase the money, like a lot of former investors, or they will abandon course altogether. Eventually, Miroh’s world will eat itself alive, with or without your help.

But you have so far only targeted a couple smaller research facilities. Yes, there have already been consequences, but not enough that a totally unrelated military base on the other side of the country would spontaneously combust.

You stare at the screen. That base is big. It isn’t going down without a fight. No one outside of the house of Miroh would have dared target it. No one else would have known how.

“Changbin,” you say.

Chan puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. You look at him then at the television, at the story unfolding rapidly in front of you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” you ask. “It has to be.”

There might be just enough chaos in the ranks that if a solder of Changbin’s calibre was being held, something might fall wayside and he would have an opportunity to escape.

You are just not sure he would try. Changbin has obviously undergone changes of his own, all seeming to stem from that final confrontation with Lee Felix before the enemy went down and took his world with him. Changbin clearly decided once and for all what was really important to him. Changbin has always played the game carefully, but in the last few months he repeatedly put himself between you and your father. He intercepted multiple interactions with Miroh’s men, altercations you dismissed as nuisances at the time but shudder to realize the weight now.

Changbin threw himself in the middle, again and again, painting a bigger and bigger target on his back. He seemed resigned to his demise. For that reason, you are not sure how much he would fight even if given the opportunity. He seemed whole-heartedly certain he would be left behind, no matter what happened.

You curl your hand into a fist, digging your nails into your scar. There was so much you should have told him. If he knew that you were willing to fight this hard. If he knew you would find out the truth. If, if, if—

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Chan says.

You look at him just as he kneels down beside your chair. He takes your hand, the one with the scar, and unfolds it carefully.

“Kicking yourself won’t save him, yeah?” Chan says.

“Yeah,” you say with a huff.

The report continues. It details this attack as being an inside job as well. Supposedly, according to rumours breaching the walls, multiple people have gone missing, but their identities have not been given to the press. Hearing that, you become marginally more hopeful that Changbin is among them. The company would not report their supposed missing persons because they are most likely prisoners being held in less-than-legal circumstances. Changbin would be that type of prisoner.

The fight is ongoing. He could still be there.

“It’s a lead, at least,” Chan says, echoing your thoughts.

“Maybe we’ve been looking in the wrong place this whole time,” you say. You have been targeting the science sector when maybe your father kept it all in the military house after all. Maybe after the initial pass through that research facility, he was moved onto a more secure base, given his background as a former child soldier of the special-ops program.

Well, if that is the case, their extra security did not work. Of course it didn’t work. It’s Seo Changbin. You could laugh at their idiocy.

“We need to find out either way,” you say.

You manage your expectations for now, but as you sit at the table and change course to plan an entirely new strategy, it is with a hope as clear and bright as the sunlight.

It is a lot of driving to the military base. You will get there at nightfall the next day if you stop only sparsely.

You and Chan are swift in packing and climbing back into that car. You take turns sleeping and driving, though the last leg of the journey is spent on edge. You are braced and ready for a fight, all that determination exacerbated by the very real possibility that you are about to see Changbin again.

What will you say to him? What will he say to you? You wonder how much he knew about the reconfiguration. Clearly, he knew something, if not the specifics, as he went to great lengths to keep you away from your father.

You thought Changbin had saved you on an emotional level, but you realize now how it crossed into every sphere of life.

You close your eyes while Chan drives. You see Changbin on that rooftop, saying he will not leave you behind. It was the first hit that shattered the glass around you. Miroh had so carefully built that clear coffin around your consciousness, and Changbin smashed right through with the sheer brute force of his friendship.

You glance at Chan. Miroh did everything in his power to make sure you forgot about him. Bang Christopher Chan, the First Guard. Someone you loved and who loved you. Your father would have focussed on that. He would not have seen anything.

Why would he care about a friendship? What does that word even mean to a man like him? He would have looked right past Changbin. He spent all that time wiping Chan from your mind, that he never thought to look for anything else.

Your body gets cold as you remember – something. You close your eyes. You are standing in front of Changbin. He’s young, in his late teens, about the age you would have been when they reconfigured you. He is looking at you with uncertainty. You feel an uneasiness looking back at him.

Don’t you know me? he asks. He pulls a face, makes some dumb noises, waves his hands. Then he frowns. Changbin can be funny, but he turns it off in a second, as deadly as the rest of them. So much anger floods his eyes, they look black with the focussed intensity of his fury. You know me, he says. Think. Remember me.

You see a slant of moonlight, a windowpane, a streak of blood. Remember me.

You feel a weight as it is lifted off your chest. You hear him shouting your name. You hear him running.

You know me, he says.

You flinch – in your memory? – right now? – and a piercing wail floods your mind. You don’t want to go towards that scream. You can’t go there.

It’s me, he says. Hold on. Keep your eyes open. Don’t go. I promise I’ll get you out.

“Changbin,” you say.

“Hey, hey, baby, hey—” That is Chan. He is shaking your arm.

Your eyes pop open.

You have never had flashes of recollection while awake. It feels like a bigger adrenaline rush than waking from a nightmare, very little to divide your mind from reality.

You take a few steadying breaths while Chan rubs your shoulder. He was driving but the car is now stopped on the side of the road. You did not even feel him braking.

“What happened?” he asks when you are settled enough to speak.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I just—I was thinking. Remembering. Not like that. It’s complicated. I just—”

You close your eyes. A teenage Changbin is still standing there, looking at you warily.

You know me.

I know you.

“Changbin,” you say, choked up. You blink your eyes open and take another breath. “I’ll be okay,” you say. “We can’t stop for long. Let’s get back on the road.”

Chan does not look convinced, frowning as he stares into your face. You blink at him, then narrow your eyes into a squint.

“Did you call me baby?” you ask.

He clears his throat and turns back to the steering wheel. Looking out over the dashboard, definitely not at you, and with the tips of his ears more than a little red, he says, “You’re right. Let’s get back on the road.”

In spite of everything, you find yourself smiling.

It is only natural that you are waylaid at the very last minute, right on the cusp of sunset as you approach the vicinity of the military base. Not only is your path to finally rescuing Changbin obstructed, but it is halted by the most asinine, mundane nonsense in the world.

Soldiers, agents, entire convoluted military operations – those you can easily take. Minimum wage workers, on the other hand, are impossible combatants. More grizzled than the worst of ancient servicemen, they blink at your pleading with a harsher chill than a mob boss. You are certain this gas station attendant has seen some shit because he is not remotely inclined to assuage anyone’s anxiety.

“The till is down,” he says with an icy tone, face pinched unpleasantly. “It’ll be back up in a minute.”

He goes back to talking to his manager on the phone, smacking his computer till at random intervals. It does not exactly inspire confidence.

While you and Chan have been getting by with theft and subterfuge, you do everything in your power to not draw attention. That means you pay for gas as many stations have security cameras that log and report drive-offs and defaults.

That means you are stuck in this line with several other customers while the hapless cashier whacks his computer.

The little bell above the door rings as Chan steps inside the shop.

“What’s taking so long?” he asks.

“I want to hit him,” you say, pointing to the disinterested cashier. “He’s never gonna get that thing fixed. We have somewhere to be, we can’t just stand here all day—”

“Ah, ah, ah, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Chan says soothingly. He interrupts your rant as you were raising your voice. Not that it matters because the incompetent cashier is not paying any attention.

“I’ll take care of it,” Chan says. “You just have to know how to talk to people, yeah?”

The cashier paid you absolutely no mind when you tried to complain. He gave you a nasty look and ordered you to get to the back of the line. Chan, on the other, receives a quick onceover and a blink of seeming approval.

Chan leans on the counter and smiles a devastatingly charming smile, those dimples blinding. The cashier puts the phone on his shoulder and looks at him expectantly.

“Hey there,” Chan says.

“Hello,” the cashier replies, coolly but not as rudely. “The till is broken, sir. We’re going to have to wait for a repair.”

“You know, I’m pretty good with my hands,” Chan says. “I bet if you let me under there, I could figure something out.”

The cashier blinks at him. One blink, two blinks, three. Then he hangs up the phone and opens the gate to let Chan behind the counter.

You cross your arms and roll your eyes.

Chan, perhaps unsurprisingly given his necessary breadth of skills, helps the useless cashier get his dumb register running again. You all but throw the money at his stupid pretty head before marching away.

“Thanks, Wolfgang,” the cashier says, using the made-up name Chan gave him.

“No problem.” Chan winks back at him. “Have a good day, uh—” He squints at the name tag, gives it only a sparing glance as he steps out the door. “Hyunjin,” he says.

The door swings closed and you continue on your way.

Fortunately, you have no more preposterous interludes. You approach the base differently than the facilities, especially because you have not been able to do a proper sweep. However, that should be fine given the entire operation here has already been massively destabilized. All the main assets have moved along, either because of imminent danger or because the media now has its eyes on its actions.

Either way, you get inside without much fuss. You stick together for longer, not trusting the dark corridors and labyrinthine tunnels.

It is a lot emptier than anticipated. The fight seems to have ended some time in the last couple hours. There is an eerie, unsettled feeling, like a house abandoned in the middle of a meal. Unlike the dusty underground hovels at the research facility, this place is still breathing. You are not sure what it will cough up.

“Still think he’s here?” Chan asks, likely coming to the same conclusion as you: that even if Changbin was here, he has probably moved on. He has either escaped and gone of his own volition or he was caught and reprimanded and has been relocated.

“Maybe,” you say with a sigh. “Maybe not. But it’s still a lead. Treat it like one.”

You finally split up to cover more ground, agreeing to reconvene at the central warehouse in half-an-hour.

Maybe Changbin is no longer in these walls – maybe he was never here at all – but there might still be answers. You suspect there are questions too, because you cannot imagine who outside of the special-ops program would have both the calibre of skill and necessary intel to pull of an operation like this. Someone reached right into the heart of this base and yanked at its ventricles like it was nothing. And if not to escape, then why?

It has to be Changbin, you tell yourself, even while a sense of wrongness creeps under your skin. It is the same odd, unsettled feeling you get when you think about the night the enemy died – specifically when you think about that security system somehow being wiped after the house burned down with everyone inside it. It is that strange discombobulation, where the answer is probably simple and right in front of your face, so blatant that its absence haunts and distracts you.

You are distracted with thought. Maybe that is why you make your first mistake.

You turn a corner and crash right into someone. You are shocked because you did not hear their approach. Even distracted, you should have heard footsteps in an empty corridor, especially in heavy combat boots. You are quiet but you have unique bodily control that even well-trained soldiers cannot replicate. No one else can walk that quietly.

It is clear the same startled reaction ripples through their body.

You draw guns at the same time, firing with equal speed and precision. You also both duck at the same time. Smooth as a dance, you whirl around each other, firing and re-loading until they do a spin-kick and knock the gun aside.

As you fight with your hands, you only catch glimpses of your opponent. They are dressed all in black but not in Miroh’s uniform, a balaclava pulled over their face and head. They are very slender, but they land a hit like someone twice their size.

Your second mistake is your own fault. You underestimate them based on their build and it earns you a good right cross. In the ensuing dizziness, they make a break down the corridor at an alarming speed. It leaves you reeling more than the hit.

“What the fuck,” you say, staggering after them.

This person does not work for Miroh, that much is obvious. It also definitely isn’t Changbin. This person has the completely wrong build, opposite of Changbin in almost every way. No, it isn’t your friend, but it might very well be another prisoner. They might have an idea of what happened. They might know if Changbin was here and where he went.

The thought propels you into a determined sprint. You cannot follow sound as the person is good enough to keep their footsteps low, but you are just as skilled so they likewise do not see you coming.

They coincidentally head straight for the central warehouse. The warehouse previously functioned as a pseudo-armory, but it has already been completely cleared. It is two levels, the top floor a balcony walkway overlooking the main warehouse floor.

The warehouse is empty except for the intruder. The person seems to be deliberating. They remove their head covering for a second, long enough to catch their breath. You see a flash of black hair and a hint of a masculine profile before you are spotted. The man tugs the fabric back over his head.

He leaps right off the balcony.

It is too high for a normal person to jump without breaking a leg. Naturally, you run to the railing to look over.

Your adversary is a step ahead of you. He is dangling there, waiting for you to approach so he can swing back over and knock you down. You skid across the balcony level, the metal walkway rattling under your weight.

You don’t stay down for long. Another fight begins, a back and forth tussle that makes you think you need more training. The past day has been more than a little hectic, but you should be able to take down even a well-trained soldier.

He does another spin-kick, a solid roundhouse that knocks your mask right off. You stumble sideways while the mask clatters across the balcony before spilling right over the ledge. It is a long descent before it smacks the ground.

You ground your footing, assuming a defensive stance with a swift upward swing.

“Who are you?” you ask.

At the exact same time, the man says, “You.”

That prompts another question, a bigger question, why on earth this stranger would recognize you in this context. You cannot even think about your question, however, because the man abruptly flies at you with twice the verve as before. Caught off guard, at first you struggle to defend yourself. When he finally swings too wide, giving you an opening, you do not waste the opportunity.

You tackle him, fully and bodily, arms around him as you charge the balcony. You shove him right over the railing. It is not so high that he’ll die, but you don’t want to kill him anyway. You need to ask him questions – like did he do all this and how and why? Are there others? Is Changbin among them?

You grasp the railing. You are prepared to swing and jump over but you stop short at what you find. The man, who should be nursing a fractured leg right about now, is instead getting to his feet. He looks a bit dizzy, shaking his head and rubbing his temple, but he is otherwise unscathed.

You just stand there for a second, gawping at him like an animal.

That shielded face finally lifts, eyes finding yours across the space. His head cocks, seemingly a dry and irritated, Really?

You launch yourself off the balcony, landing heavily but safely. You absorb the shock and straighten, not taking your eyes off this man for a second.

“I’m not interested in hurting you,” you say.

He scoffs, pointedly looking down at your uniform.

“I don’t work for Miroh anymore,” you say. “I’m just trying to blend in.”

“You?” he says. It is so far the only thing he is willing to say. His voice has a darker, deeper tone, scratching at the back of your head, but his monosyllabic replies do nothing to help place him.

You want to say more but he doesn’t let you, jumping back into action. You huff in aggravation, wanting to shout, we’re on the same side! But he is fast. You expend your energy just keeping him at bay.

Your stamina is fairly well-matched, just like everything else. You move around the warehouse, kicking and punching and flipping around each other, losing track of minutes.

A sheen of sweat breaks under your uniform. He is slowing down too. There is just one difference: he still has his gun.

He gets you behind the knee and puts you on your back. Before you can retaliate, he draws his gun and points it at your face.

You freeze, staring down the barrel. You slowly lift your eyes to him, just in case any sudden movement convinces him to fire. So far, he is holding, though you are not sure why. If he truly wanted to avoid detection, it would have been in his best interest to kill you and move on.

He hesitates. His hand is steady but his eyes are darting around inside the masked fabric.

Your eyes continue to wander up, up. Your heart leaps when you see Chan approaching on the balcony, silent and serious, gun in hand. He has a longer-range weapon, not a little pistol like you and the adversary. He takes aim from his perch but you shake your head.

You know Chan can make the shot, that he could get the man through the head and not so much as graze you under him. But if this man dies, his answers go with him.

“No!” you shout at the same time the gun goes off.

You wrap your legs around the man’s midsection and yank him to the side. You roll, one over the other until you are pinned once more. You are both unharmed. With the head covering, it is hard to tell if he is frazzled. He certainly whips his head around quickly, trying to see where he dropped his gun.

You spot it at the same time. You glance at each other then bolt, stumbling over one another as you charge the discarded pistol.

Chan jumps down off the balcony. He takes more of a running leap, jumping forward rather than just down. It gives him far more momentum so he hits the ground and tucks into a roll, riding the wave of that momentum until he is in the middle of the room.

Chan reaches the gun first. He kicks it out of the way and comes at the adversary with his bare hands. He may not understand why you wanted to save an enemy who had you pinned under a gun, but Chan must trust there is a reason because he fights to incapacitate rather than kill.

It is a good fight, but the man is already tired from fighting you.

And you are good, but Chan is better. If he could not beat you, only tie, then he cannot beat Chan.

Sure enough, it takes a few more moves before the man is on his back. Chan, still wearing his half-mask, straddles the man’s chest, pinning his arms at his sides and his body to the floor. He draws a knife out of a thigh holster for good measure.

“Got him,” Chan says. “Who is this guy?”

“I have no idea,” you say, jogging over to them. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“Let me go,” the man says, wriggling uselessly under Chan’s weight. “I have nothing to say to her.”

“I told you already, I’m on your side,” you say. “Or at least I’m not on Miroh’s side.”

“Whose side are you on?” Chan asks with a jerk of his head.

“Mine,” the man answers. “Now let me go. I have a job.”

“We have a job,” you say. “We’re the ones who have been taking out the facilities so far.”

That gets the man to stop squirming. He looks at you through the narrow eye slits in his balaclava, eyes darting to where you stand behind Chan.

“You?” the man asks, seemingly his favourite word.

“Yes, me,” you snap. “And who are you exactly?”

“One way to find out,” Chan says. He does not wait for any further acknowledgement, ripping the man’s mask right off his head. It is not a cruel or violent action, more a casual shrug of his arm than anything. You are not expecting to find anything more than the scowling face of a stranger.

You and Chan freeze.

Staring back at you, with his hair returned to its natural pitch, his dark eyes narrowed in an intense glare, and a face full of unmistakable freckles, is a former agent of Miroh’s special-ops program. One of the last and a traitor, not to mention supposedly dead.

“You,” is what you say.

You do not know what else to say to Lee Felix.

#AHHHHHHHHHHHH #ohmigosh this chapter was sooo good #I’m so excited for the next one!!#WHAT THE HECK #WHAT THE FUCK #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #fic recs #skz fic recs

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