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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥

pairings: liar x liar, non idol au

synopsis: lies

warning: lies, ft minsung, hyunjin and changbin

a/n: if you have extra eyes for errors no you cant.

previously...

The house was quiet. A deep, heavy kind of silence that wrapped itself around the walls like a second skin. Only the occasional creak of old floorboards or the low hum of the fridge dared to stir. Bang Chan stood at the doorway of his room, the faintest sliver of light from the hallway catching the rigid line of his jaw. He glanced down the corridor toward your room. Your door was shut. He’d waited long enough, listened for your breathing to settle, watched the soft shuffle of movement behind your door stop. You were asleep. Finally.

He stepped back in and closed his door behind him, locking it. The folder he brought back earlier in the day—one he hadn’t dared open in front of her—now sat like a loaded weapon on the desk by the lamp. Cream-colored, slightly wrinkled, marked with a simple black label:

OP–SHADOWGATE : EXT-4271

He opened it. Slowly. The pages were crisp, printed in typeface and scattered with clipped photos, redacted names, and codes he recognized as off-grid intel. Private databases. Not FBI. Not CIA. This file had been buried beneath four layers of encrypted shell companies and abandoned ops.

But what hit him first was the photo.

You. Y/N. But not as he knew you.

The Y/N in the file wore darker clothes, your hair shorter, your eyes sharper. You looked… cold. Calculated. Military-grade precision in every movement. Every surveillance still of you was timestamped—none of them recent. All of them deeply embedded within reports about missing data, covert meetings in Singapore, Berlin, Tunisia… and one photo that made the breath catch in Chan’s throat—

A handshake. With a known arms trafficker.

What the hell? Page after page confirmed it.

Y/N L/N. No government affiliation. No agency tags. No loyalty flags. Not FBI. Not CIA. Not Interpol. Not even MI6. Instead, three bold letters marked the top corner of one document:

SCU. Chan stared at it, blinking.

Special Covert Unit. A name only whispered in the deeper shadows of intelligence circles. It wasn’t part of any official government. It was a freelance shadow operation—made up of former agents, soldiers, defectors, and ghosts. People who didn’t officially exist anymore. People who could do what governments couldn’t.

And you were one of them.

He ran a hand through his hair, standing abruptly and pacing across the room. The betrayal simmered just beneath his skin. You had lied to him. Let him believe you were an agent, his colleague. You played the role perfectly.

And now, he realized, you’d probably been tracking him. This wasn’t partnership. This was surveillance.

FLASHBACK — 5 HOURS AGO

The dim alley behind a nondescript Vietnamese café. A man stood near the loading door, lighting a cigarette with trembling fingers. Bald. Tall. Wire-rimmed glasses and a nervous tic.

Chan approached with his hood up.

"You said you had something I needed," he muttered. The man barely looked at him. “Your girl’s not who you think she is.”

Chan's silence made the man nervous. He reached into a leather pouch and handed over a sealed file.

"She’s on her own payroll. SCU. Has been for years. She's gotten in deep with people you’d shoot on sight. Singapore? That was the third time she’s crossed paths with Petrov. She might not even want you alive.”

Chan had stared. Said nothing. Took the file and left.

The rage started to build in his chest. A quiet fury. His heart beat hard against his ribs, but his hands were steady. He didn’t know what her game was yet… but he would. He grabbed his burner phone from beneath the loose floorboard under his bed and tapped out a quick, encrypted message to Jisung:

BIRD’S IN SHADOW.

SHE’S SCU. NEED A DEEP DIVE. NO MISTAKES.

PRIORITY ONE.

DO. NOT. TELL. HER.

He hit send and watched the message disappear into the black void of the encoded network.

Then he stared at the door. The one separating him from the woman who saved his life—

and may have been the one holding the blade to his throat all along.

---

The sharp ping of a notification cut through the heavy silence of the room, cracking the late-night calm like glass underfoot.

Jisung groaned into the pillow, half-buried under a tangle of bedsheets and the warm weight of Lee Know draped across his back. Lee Know stirred slightly but didn’t wake. His face remained tucked against Jisung’s shoulder, breathing soft and slow.

Jisung squinted at his phone from under the covers, fingers fumbling to unlock it.

One New Encrypted Message — Burn Line [CHAN]

> BIRD’S IN SHADOW.

SHE’S SCU. NEED A DEEP DIVE. NO MISTAKES.

PRIORITY ONE.

DO. NOT. TELL. HER.

That jolted him awake.

He sat up too fast, causing Lee Know to mumble something and shift with a sleepy arm reaching for him. Jisung gently slid out from under him, muttering, “Sorry, baby. Emergency. Sleep,” pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Lee Know didn’t even flinch—dead to the world.

Jisung padded out of the room barefoot and pulled his laptop from under the couch cushions in the living room. His fingers flew across the keys like they’d been waiting for this exact command.

SCU.

He already didn’t like it. SCU wasn’t just off-books. It was the stuff of ghost stories shared between agents over whiskey and paranoia. An elite, unaffiliated covert unit—ruthless, self-sustaining, and impossible to track. The fact that you were one of them? That was bad enough.

But what he found next was worse.

Kallisto.

He hadn’t seen that name in years. The last time it came up, a Russian scientist had vanished from a NATO stronghold. The whispers pinned it on Kallisto—a faceless middleman known for smuggling secrets, laundering intelligence, and forging high-level cover identities.

Every major intelligence server had fragments of Kallisto's digital fingerprint, but no one could identify him.

Until now, obviously. Jisung cracked open one of SCU’s old Istanbul logs. He cross-referenced Y/N’s operation history, missions involving black sites, off-grid assassinations, chemical extraction. And there it was.

An encoded drop-off record.

Marked: KALLISTO — ESCORTED CARGO: L/N

The IP trail was faint. Half-wiped. But he knew this code. He knew this formatting. His eyes widened.

"...No way."

He dug deeper. The metadata on the embedded cryptographic pings led back to one person.

HWANG. HYUNJIN.

“What the actual hell…” Jisung whispered. Hyunjin. The eccentric art dealer. Hacker. Occasional ghost in the machine when they needed access to black market caches. Your silent little tech whisperer. The guy you “called sometimes.”

Hyunjin was Kallisto.

The black-market ghost tied to former Russian intelligence circles. Jisung leaned back in the chair, letting out a long, low breath. His skin felt clammy, the adrenaline finally catching up to him.

You had lied. Big time.

And suddenly, everything about you—your calm, your silence, your innocence—it all made sense. He stood, went back into the bedroom, and gently shook Lee Know awake. “Minho… wake up.”

Lee Know blinked up at him, groggy but alert. “What’s wrong?”

Jisung knelt by the bed. “We’ve got a problem.”

---

They sat side by side on the couch now, Lee Know scrolling on his own device, eyes scanning the material with practiced calm. Jisung was pacing.

“She’s SCU. Confirmed. But that’s not even the worst part—she’s been working with Hyunjin. He’s Kallisto, babe. Like, the Kallisto.”

Minho stilled, a slow exhale leaving him. “Petrov’s operations. The Geneva leak. That guy?”

“Yeah. And Y/N had contact with him on record. Multiple times.”

“So, either she’s compromised,” Minho muttered, piecing it together, “or she’s playing some kind of deep game. Either way…”

“We can’t let her know we know,” Jisung said. “She’s too good. The second she suspects, she’ll vanish.” Lee Know nodded slowly. “Then we make a backup plan. Containment strategy. Something in case she decides to flip on us.”

They leaned over the laptop together. Drawing lines. Mapping timelines. Creating an algorithm that would flag any divergence in her behavior.

“She’s not FBI,” Jisung added softly, almost like it stung.

Lee Know watched him, his hand finding Jisung’s knee. “This is bigger than her now. We play nice. Act like we trust her.”

“And if she decides to go full double-cross?”

---

SOMEWHERE IN BERLIN — FIVE YEARS AGO

The rain was silver in the glow of neon. Cold. Soaked into the cracked asphalt like bloodstains washed clean too many times.

Hyunjin leaned against the shadowed mouth of an alleyway, hood up, hands in the pockets of a double-breasted coat tailored to perfection. Beneath it, a handgun pressed against his ribs and three encrypted drives waited in his briefcase like poison seeds. His gaze flicked upward, catching the silhouette of the woman through the haze—sharp steps, no hesitation, like she wasn’t scared of anything.

She shouldn’t have been there.

And yet… there she was.

Y/N.

She didn’t flinch when she saw him. She didn’t blink, either. Just stood before him like she already knew his name.

“You’re Kallisto?”

He smirked. “I don’t usually get called that to my face.”

“I’m not most people.”

God, that voice. It wasn’t soft—it was steel sharpened in silence. She carried herself like a storm that forgot how to scream. Beautiful in a way that made him ache, because it came with distance. She was untouchable. Purpose incarnate.

She was his type of problem.

---

PRESENT — SOMEWHERE IN TURKEY, KALLISTO’S SAFEHOUSE

Hyunjin sat barefoot at a sleek marble table, screens aglow in the dim light, lines of code reflecting in his tired, brilliant eyes. Cigarette smoke curled into the air like a dragon’s breath, untouched. His hair was half-tied, sleeves rolled up, black ink peeking from the veins of his forearm.

One screen displayed a dossier.

L/N, Y/N. Alias: Sparrow. Former asset of Operation Daggerfall. Unverified handler clearance.

He stared at her picture longer than he needed to. They’d met in Berlin by accident—but what followed was no coincidence. Y/N had needed access to something no agency would touch. The CIA had written her off. MI6 had wanted her dead. The FBI wouldn’t touch her without a valid background.

Hyunjin gave her one. He buried her records so deep no database could scratch them. Gave her a full identity, a backstory rooted in minor ops and forged casework. He made her real, not just on paper but in the eyes of the federal machine.

Why?

Because she was the first person in his life who didn’t ask him who he worked for.

And he liked the lie that he wasn’t dangerous around her.

---

THREE YEARS AGO — RUSSIA, THE BLACK VAULTS

K.B.V. — Komitet Bezopasnosti Vnutrennyaya. The Committee for Internal Security.

Hyunjin had been part of them once—not fully initiated, but deep enough. A rogue intelligence offshoot made of remnants from the KGB, rebranded under the skin of modern espionage. Hyunjin had been brought in as a teenager. A prodigy. A cyber mercenary capable of crashing entire power grids and rerouting missile guidance in under seven minutes.

He had worked operations where no one left alive. Where targets were innocent, and missions weren’t labeled necessary, just paid.

But somewhere along the way… he cracked.

It was a girl, actually. A blonde. From France. He never talks about her. After that, Hyunjin started playing both sides. Selling intel to the West. Helping the ones meant to disappear. That’s how he ended up in your orbit—how he became the one man you could count on to clean up her messes.

But he never told you about his KBV roots. Never told you that your fingerprints were once auctioned on the dark web and he was the one who bought them before someone else did.

He protected you. He watched your walk into fire. He patched her comms. He killed for her—quietly, efficiently. And every time you said “thank you” in that clipped, mission-focused tone… a small, pathetic part of him ached. Because you never looked at him the way he looked at you.

---

He pulled up footage—grainy but clear. The gala. Again. The kiss. Chan’s hand on her waist. Her lips against his. Hyunjin stared at it like it betrayed him personally.

He leaned back in the chair, exhausted.

“…You never wanted me,” he said into the silence. “But you keep calling.”

He closed the screen and locked everything down. Then turned to the window, watching a city he didn’t belong to breathe in the dark. And in a hidden vault under his floorboards, a letter addressed to Y/N sat sealed. Unread. Unsent. Just in case he ever didn’t come back.

---

The morning peeled itself from the edges of the horizon, warm gold bleeding into the sky like ink dropped into water. The air was still damp from the night rain, and the cobblestones outside the safehouse glistened faintly in the soft light.

Inside, Y/N zipped up the final bag with the kind of practiced grace that made it clear this wasn’t her first covert exit. She wore a dark hoodie, her hair tucked beneath a cap, and had the quiet look of someone already in the next country in her mind. Chan watched her from the doorway, arms folded, his face unreadable except for the faint shadow beneath his eyes—a storm bottled too neatly.

He knew. Everything. But she didn’t know that. He grabbed his own bag off the floor, slung it over his shoulder. “You double-checked the back exit?”

“Twice,” she said, brushing past him lightly. “You’d be surprised how many ops go south just because someone forgot to check for cameras.”

He gave a small, empty smile. “Wouldn’t surprise me at all.” They stepped out into the dawn.

---

The taxi smelled faintly of cigarettes and lemon-scented wipes. The driver grunted something in Czech and pulled away from the curb, the soft rumble of the car the only real sound as the city began to stir around them. Chan sat by the window, his hand curled loosely near his mouth, eyes locked on the blur of minarets and rooftop pigeons sliding past. Y/N sat beside him, her gaze forward, one leg bouncing slightly.

He broke the silence casually, voice wrapped in silk and smoke.

“You ever work with anyone out of South Carolina?”

Her eyes flicked to him. “SCU?” A pause. Careful, he thought.

She shrugged. “Not directly. They’ve got their own ghosts. You know how it is—oversight, contracts, a lot of red tape. Why?” Chan tilted his head, still watching the window.

“Just… someone mentioned a woman in one of my old circuits. Said she moved like she wasn’t trained by the Bureau.”

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, just long enough for him to catch it. “You think I move like that?” He smiled faintly, turning to look at her now. “I think you move like someone who doesn’t wait for orders.”

That earned a breath of a laugh. “Maybe I don’t.” They lapsed into silence again. But in Chan’s mind, wires were already reconnecting. Her answer wasn’t defensive—it was practiced. Slick. And vague enough to slide past the truth without ever touching it.

She’s good, he thought. Too good.

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the departure’s terminal. Morning travelers bustled past with overstuffed luggage and sleep-laced chatter. Chan and Y/N stepped out, blending in with the chaos like shadows.

As Y/N adjusted the strap on her carry-on, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it.

[Jisung]: Your flight's confirmed. Prague to D.C, gate C-22. You board in 1 hr. You’re welcome.

Chan’s burner buzzed next. He checked it discreetly, heart thudding low and slow like a warning drum.

[Jisung]: Kallisto = Hyunjin. Confirmed.

He’s deeper in Russian circuits than we thought.

Do NOT confront her.

Play along. We’re building the counter-plan.

Chan’s jaw tightened. Just slightly. He slid the phone back into his jacket, turned to Y/N with that easy, almost-charming look he wore like armor.

“C-22,” he said. “You want coffee before we go through security?”

She blinked, surprised for a second by the shift. “You’re buying?” He smirked. “You’re still recovering from that fish crime you ordered last night. I owe you.”

As they walked into the terminal, he walked just a step behind her. Watching. Calculating. And the entire time, he smiled like he didn’t know a thing.

---

The room was dimly lit, washed in a cool blue glow from the multiple monitors lined across the wall like portals to chaos. The table was cluttered, half-empty mugs, a bowl of almonds, USBs scattered like confetti, and at the center of it all: Jisung, hunched forward in a hoodie, eyes flicking fast over the screen.

Lee Know sat behind him on the edge of the couch, arms folded, head tilted with that signature mix of exasperation and fondness. His hair was messily laid back, and he wore nothing but a black sleeveless tee and joggers that slung low on his hips.

“Baby, it’s past three,” he said gently. “Your brain’s going to short-circuit. Come to bed.”

“I can’t,” Jisung mumbled, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand. “We just pulled up something off that Turkish backdoor server. There’s something encrypted buried under the Havana list—some weird metadata…”

Lee Know sighed through his nose, padded barefoot across the floor and crouched beside him, eyes scanning the screen.

“… ‘OSCAR,’” he read aloud.

Jisung leaned in closer, typing furiously. “That name was tagged on the Havana trade manifest. Not as cargo. As the person who signed off Petrov’s transfer. But this doesn’t make sense—there’s no trace of her anywhere. No photo. No paper trail. It’s like someone built a ghost and gave her a name.”

Lee Know stared at the file; expression unreadable for a second. Then he stood, walked behind Jisung, and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pressing his lips to the side of his boyfriend’s head.

“You are too sexy to be this stubborn, you know that?”

“I’m trying to focus here.”

“And I’m trying to get you to sleep so you don’t pass out in the middle of a firewall breach tomorrow morning.”

“I said I’m fine—”

Lee Know leaned down and kissed him again. This time slower. Then once more. Again.

Jisung’s fingers slowed on the keys. “Lee Know…”

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing.”

“I’m kissing you.”

“Why are you kissing me?”

“Because when reasoning fails, seduction prevails.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am lying.”

Lee Know slipped around and gently straddled him on the chair, pressing their lips together properly this time—hands warm against Jisung’s jaw, mouth coaxing the tension out of him in lazy, warm kisses. Jisung gave in with a soft groan, arms looping around his waist.

“Just a minute,” he murmured against Lee Know’s lips.

“Take your time,” he whispered back, dragging the kisses slower, lazier, trailing from his jaw to his neck. “I’ll keep you here till the sun comes up if I have to.”

They didn’t speak after that. They just swayed together in the low light, lost in something too tender for words—breaths mingling, mouths brushing, the tension of espionage fading for a moment into something personal. Familiar.

Then,

PING.

The laptop chimed. Jisung blinked against Lee Know’s collarbone, dazed. “That… was the metadata dump. It decrypted.” Lee Know groaned dramatically and flopped back into the couch, dragging a throw pillow over his face. “If that turns out to be a decoy file, I’m deleting the internet.”

Jisung pulled himself up, adjusted the screen—and then froze. His brows furrowed, fingers hovering above the keys as an image popped up.

“Holy sh—”

“What?” Lee Know sat up. Jisung didn’t look away from the screen. His voice dropped.

“That’s her. Oscar.”

An elegant silhouette in grayscale. No face. But the metadata showed something else: A log of clearance codes used during Operation Nightfall. Signed off… under the name Reynolds.

Lee Know leaned in, eyes narrowing.

“…They’re working together?”

Jisung nodded slowly, jaw clenching. “And they were in Havana.”

---

Rain whispered against the windows of the high-rise apartment, streaking the glass in slanted gray lines. The place was sharp—clean lines, sterile decor, too polished to be personal. Just like the man who lived in it. Reynolds stood in front of the bar, pouring himself something darker than his thoughts. The amber liquid sloshed into the tumbler with a quiet clink of ice. He looked tired. More than tired. Worn. His tie was loosened, top buttons undone, and there was a trembling tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there the day before.

Behind him, Petrov leaned back on the leather armchair like a cat that knew it had nine lives. He wore black, all black, a cigarette lazily perched between his fingers despite the no smoking sign Reynolds always insisted on. His eyes tracked Reynolds like a man who expected a bullet—but wasn't scared of it. “You look like shit,” Petrov said calmly in his thick Russian accent, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling.

“I ran into Oscar last night.”

That got his attention. Petrov straightened, the smirk dissolving from his face like fog. “…She’s here?”

Reynolds turned, drink in hand, and gave him a cold, slow look. “In my goddamn living room, Viktor.”

Petrov held his gaze. “I didn’t call her.”

Reynolds’ voice cracked with low fury. “Bullshit. You compromised the gala. She shook your hand in the middle of gunfire. You were a goddamn beacon.”

“I was saving your operation—”

“You were making yourself the center of it,” Reynolds barked, slamming his glass down on the bar with a sharp crack. “Now she thinks we’ve lost control. She thinks I have. She threatened to light this entire op on fire if I don’t have Bang Chan’s head before the deadline.”

Petrov rose from the chair, the smirk now fully gone. “I swear to you; I didn’t say a word to her. She doesn’t know about Chan. Not from me.”

“She knows enough to show up unannounced,” Reynolds snapped, stalking forward. “And if we don’t get in front of this—if we don’t figure out something, she’ll pull the plug and do it her way. And her way? It’s not clean. It’s not political. It’s nuclear.”

They stood there, the weight of a thousand betrayals thick in the air.

Petrov flicked his ash into the tray, then muttered, “So what now?” Reynolds pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. Calculating. The mind of a man who'd sold both secrets and souls for survival.

“We give her something,” he said finally. “A breadcrumb. Not Chan. Not yet. But something that makes it look like we’re playing ball. And in the meantime—”

He looked up, eyes sharper than a blade in the cold.

“—we come up with a contingency plan. In case she decides we’re no longer necessary.” Petrov nodded slowly, then lifted his glass.

“To desperate partnerships,” he said dryly. Reynolds didn’t toast. He just turned away, staring out at the rain.

“God help us all if she realizes how far off-script this really is.”

---

Terminal 2, Gate 22, En route to Washington D.C

The check-in line was long, but not noisy. But Y/N wasn’t distracted. Not really. She stood a few paces behind Chan as they waited at security, watching him with that instinctive sharpness she'd honed for years. Something about him was different. Distant. Not cold—but guarded. He hadn’t said more than ten words since they’d left the safehouse.

She watched the tightness in his jaw as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hand gripped the strap of his bag a little too hard. His lips were set in a firm, unreadable line.

And Y/N, despite every instinct telling her to just play it cool, found herself leaning toward him gently as they passed through the security scanner.

“You alright?” she asked softly, keeping her tone light. “You’ve been weirdly quiet. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just… not your usual kind of quiet.”

Chan looked at her. For a moment, his eyes flickered. Like something inside him softened just enough to let the truth nearly spill out. But instead, he offered a faint smile—a hollow one.

“Just tired,” he said. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Nightmares or intel?” she teased, her voice playful but careful. He let out a small exhale, neither confirming nor denying. Just moving through the moment like a man carrying too many unspoken truths.

She didn’t press. Not yet. As they approached the gate, their boarding passes beeped and they crossed into the jet bridge, walking side by side in the sterile tunnel that led to the aircraft. The hum of the engines rumbled ahead, but her mind stayed focused on the man next to her.

Maybe it was the look in his eyes. Maybe it was instinct. Or maybe it was that unshakable thread between them—tension, trust, and something else they never had the courage to name. Just before they stepped into the plane, she said, “You know… whatever it is you think I’m hiding from you… maybe just ask me, Chan.”

That stopped him. He turned to her slowly, brows barely lifted, lips parting slightly as if caught off guard. She gave him a small shrug, eyes calm but not challenging. “I’m not saying I don’t have secrets. We all do. But if you want the truth, you can always ask for it. I won’t lie to you.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Because the file still burned in his bag. The truth already stared him in the face, and yet—her voice made him hesitate. Made him doubt. And that scared him more than anything else. He nodded once, eyes dropping to the floor for just a beat too long. Then he stepped into the plane, leaving her to follow behind, unaware that the first real fracture had just begun.

---

The room was dark except for the flickering light from at least six different monitors. Strings of code cascaded like falling rain across black screens. The air smelled faintly of soldered wire and burnt coffee, evidence of Hyunjin's relentless routines. His desk was a chaotic masterpiece: old USBs, passports, a disassembled burner phone, and a half-finished oil painting of a fox that had long since dried unfinished.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded, a single cigarette resting between his fingers but never lit. His gaze flickered over the final set of coordinates he’d decrypted an hour ago.

Location: Prague > Departure: DC

Subject: BANG C. / YN

He exhaled sharply through his nose. They were moving faster than expected. With the same elegance he brought to his art, Hyunjin leaned forward and opened a separate interface. His fingers tapped quickly, unlocking a channel so heavily encrypted it would take even the best black hat a week to scrape the metadata. But Oscar? She’d receive the message in seconds.

He clicked the microphone icon and spoke low into it:

> Oscar. Your package is mobile. Destination: Washington D.C. ETA six hours. Suggest containment on landing. You still want the ghost or just the soldier?

He released the mic, leaned back, and pressed SEND. A soft beep confirmed it was received and decrypted. He sat there, motionless, fingers steepled. His eyes didn’t blink for a few seconds. Because despite what he had just done—despite the mask of cold indifference he wore so well—it wasn’t just a mission. Not when it came to her. Not when it came to Y/N.

Hyunjin whispered under his breath, “What the hell are you doing, pretty girl…?”

He was about to pull up the next operation file when another alert blipped in the corner of his primary monitor.

Incoming Message: UNRECOGNIZED KEYCHAIN

Encryption: NERVE Protocol / Red Spider Variant

Location masked

Brows lifted. He hadn’t seen this protocol in years. Only a handful of elite black-market hackers used it. Most of them were ghosts. Off-grid. Untraceable. Curious, he opened the message.

> KALLISTO. I see you. You can paint in Prague, hide in Spain, sip tea in Seoul. But sooner or later, I'm gonna unplug your router and use your bones as Wi-Fi extenders. :) – spider.exe

Hyunjin blinked. Once. Twice. Then he snorted—actually laughed. Loudly.

“Spider.exe?” he muttered. “That’s cute. Very cute.”

He leaned forward and quickly activated three different defense protocols, sealing his connection routes and initiating a trace sweep. Not to find them—he wouldn’t succeed. But to at least see what sort of game they were playing.

He stared at the signature tag of the hacker’s handle again. It was old-school. Reckless. Personal.

“…Who the hell are you?” he whispered, the smile still on his lips, eyes sharpening like a wolf finally smelling blood.

Because someone was watching him.

And even though they were clever… Hyunjin had survived the K.B.V. by being smarter.

---

Jisung leaned back in his chair, legs folded, hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up as he spun a pen between his fingers. The laptop screen in front of him still had the encryption pulse active—the same encrypted system he’d used to poke the bear.

Or rather, poke KALLISTO.

Lee Know was somewhere in the background brushing his teeth, humming a tune from that one old K-drama he refused to admit he liked. But Jisung? He was grinning, eyes wide and glinting with mischief as he typed again into the Red Spider interface.

OUTGOING MESSAGE

> Yo Picasso.exe — you draw fast but you paint slow. FYI, I'm the nightmare that crash-lands your Dropbox and plays Baby Shark on loop till you cry in Morse code. Wanna play tag, comrade?

ENCRYPTED SEND > DELIVERED

Beep.

He waited. Not even fifteen seconds. His eyes caught the alert on screen.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION – USER: APOLLO.S13 // KALLISTO

Encryption Signature: Modified Russian VektorShell – Unscramblable

Jisung whistled. “Damn. Old school and expensive…”

Then the message decrypted.

RECEIVED MESSAGE

> Tag requires two players. You don’t ping like NSA, but you’re not FSB either. Your syntax is juvenile, your jokes? American. But your footprint is clean. Too clean. Either you’re new, or you’re very good. So tell me: how long have you been inside my system?

Jisung blinked. “Oh, he thinks I’m inside.”

He cracked his knuckles, rolled his neck, and grinned like a devil in a hoodie. “No idea who I am? Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

He quickly began coding his reply—half jokes, half riddles, all wrapped in a sarcasm sandwich.

OUTGOING MESSAGE

> Define ‘inside.’ Metaphysically? Emotionally? Or spiritually? Because honestly, I’ve been living rent-free in your RAM since you sent Oscar that voice memo. C’mon, Kallisto. Play a little.

Another beat.

Ding.

KALLISTO REPLY – 1:38 RESPONSE TIME

> Cute. But cute things die first. Keep poking, spider. When I find your web, I’m setting it on fire.

Jisung snorted, closing the lid of his laptop slowly like he’d just made eye contact with the final boss of a game. He leaned back further, arms crossed behind his head.

“Oh, he mad mad. Baby boy got attitude.”

Lee Know walked in, towel over his shoulder, frowning. “You’re flirting with Russian hackers at again?”

“…Technically he’s North Korean-trained but, y’know, semantics.”

Lee Know sighed, but smirked. “You’re not gonna tell him who you are?” Jisung grinned. “Nah. Not yet. Let’s see how long it takes Picasso to realize he’s been painting on my canvas.”

---

FLIGHT 297 – SOMEWHERE ABOVE KENTUCKY

Cabin dim, engines humming low, and the soft glow of overhead lights pooling like moonlight around their seats.

Y/N leaned back into her seat, head tilted toward the small window, watching as clouds slithered past in the night sky like pale ghosts. The plane wasn’t packed—just a scattering of sleepy passengers lost in their own silence. She’d been watching Chan from the corner of her eye for about twenty minutes now.

He was quiet. Too quiet. And something about the way he’d been since they left the safehouse was… off. Not cold. Just… calculated. Like he was mentally running risk assessments on everything, including her.

She didn’t press. Not immediately.

But curiosity and survival had a similar itch, and eventually, she turned toward him, voice soft. “So… what’s the plan when we land in D.C.?”

Chan didn’t look up right away. His gaze was fixed on the seat in front of him, fingers tapping rhythmically against the fold-down tray. Then, slowly, he shifted in his seat, casting her a quick glance before leaning a bit closer.

“Friend’s place,” he said simply, voice low. “Guy I trust. His name’s Changbin.”

Y/N’s spine straightened by less than a millimeter. Her eyes didn’t blink. Her breath didn’t skip. But something in her stomach knotted.

CIA.

She knew the name. Not from files, but whispers. Operation Scarfall. Beirut. The Berlin Deviation. He was the CIA handler you didn’t want to get on the bad side of. And he was close to Chan?

Shit.

But her face? A masterpiece. She smiled gently. “How close are we talking?” Chan exhaled a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “He almost got me court-martialed on my first inter-agency mission. Gave me hell for three weeks because I mislabeled a cipher doc.”

Y/N blinked. “Sounds like a great first date.”

Chan gave her a look, one that almost held a smile—almost. “He earned my trust the same way I earned his. We nearly died pulling each other out of a blown-out building in Benghazi. Haven’t been able to get rid of him since.”

Y/N nodded slowly, still pretending. Still sweet. Still the Y/N he thinks he knows. “And you think he’s the best place to start?”

“He’s not just a friend,” Chan said, voice flattening slightly. “He’s a fixer. Quiet but connected. If there’s anything left buried in D.C., Changbin can dig it up, burn it, and sell the ashes to the highest bidder.”

Y/N tucked that away. Filed it next to “Find a way to keep Changbin at arm’s length.” Chan’s eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her features. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the one to break the situation down to him.”

“Situation?”

He hesitated. “You. The mission. All of it.”

“Ah.” She crossed one leg over the other, lips curling into a soft smirk. “You think he’s not already ten steps ahead?” Chan scoffed lightly. “He probably is. He’s probably listening to this conversation right now. But I owe him the explanation anyway.”

She nodded, turning her gaze back to the window, watching the lights of a city far below flicker like dying stars. And deep inside—beneath the calm, beneath the softness—she wondered:

How long could she keep playing this game? Because it wasn’t just Chan anymore. It was CIA. And Changbin. The man who once interrogated KALLISTO in a shipping crate in Kaliningrad.

This was going to get messy.

REAGAN NATIONAL AIRPORT – WASHINGTON, D.C.

The air is heavy with dew and anticipation. The city sleeps—restless and unaware.

The plane’s wheels kissed the tarmac with a soft, tired bounce, jostling the passengers gently awake. Cabin lights blinked on fully, casting shadows over drawn faces and travel-weary limbs. Y/N stirred beside Chan, stretching subtly as the pilot's voice crackled overhead, welcoming them to the District of Columbia.

They moved in silence, the kind bred not of awkwardness but of focus—of sharpening blades before the next fight.

Baggage claim was a ghost town, the conveyor belt humming like a tired lullaby. Their duffels arrived quickly—black, nondescript, and heavy with secrets. Chan hoisted his without strain, glancing once over his shoulder as Y/N lifted hers. Always watching. Always calculating.

Outside, the chill was sharper than expected, the kind that bit through jackets and whispered of coming storms. Chan stepped a few paces away from her to the curb, phone in hand, raising it to call a cab. And that’s when her phone pinged.

One message. Unknown number.

Encrypted tag: MirrorOp-11.

She unlocked it, frowning faintly as the screen displayed:

> The spider’s getting closer to the web.

Better check your corners. – K

Her breath hitched just slightly—barely, but Chan caught it.

Unbeknownst to her, as she tilted the screen just slightly for a better read, he caught the top of the message from over her shoulder. His gaze flickered, lips twitching into a slow, almost amused smile.

Kallisto.

He knew that message wasn't from just anyone. And "the spider"? It was one of Jisung's oldest hacker tags—playful, dangerous, elusive. The digital equivalent of a red laser pointer and a loaded gun. Still pretending not to have seen a thing, Chan turned and flagged down a taxi with an easy wave, his voice calm.

“Over here.”

The yellow cab rolled up with a tired groan, headlights splashing across their faces. He opened the door for her first like always, and she slid in, her phone slipping into her coat pocket. Chan followed and closed the door behind them, then leaned in to the driver.

“Northwest. 14th and T Street,” he said smoothly. The driver gave a nod and pulled out into the sleepy city streets, tires whispering over damp asphalt.

Y/N’s expression was mostly neutral, but Chan didn’t miss the subtle tension in her posture, the tight hold on the strap of her bag, the way her eyes darted once to the rearview mirror, checking for tails out of habit.

“You okay?” he asked casually, glancing sideways at her. His voice had that soft, worn edge like coffee at dawn. “You looked like you saw a ghost back there.”

Y/N turned to him, lips already lifting into a gentle, practiced smile. “Yeah,” she replied easily. “Just... tired.”

He tilted his head, studying her just a beat longer than necessary, then nodded. “Of course,” he said, leaning back against the seat. “You’ve been through hell.” His tone was comforting. Reassuring. The protective leader. But his thoughts?

If you only knew what I saw.

If you only knew who I’m talking to. And what we’re building behind the curtain. The cab turned onto a main road, headlights cutting through fog, and the Capitol slowly began to rise like a giant in the distance watching them.

And Y/N?

She pressed her lips together and glanced down at her phone once more. She didn’t reply to the message.

Not yet.

Because suddenly…

It felt like someone else was watching the spider too.

---

The taxi hummed quietly as it pulled up in front of a narrow street lined with quiet row houses modest, but timeless. Each brick home had the same bones but showed off its own personality: a windchime here, mismatched flower pots there, paint chipping in just the right way. And in front of one—olive green door, cracked white trim—was where Chan told the driver to stop.

“Here,” he muttered, already reaching for his wallet.

Y/N stepped out first, stretching her arms with a quiet sigh as Chan paid the driver. The morning air was still cool, birds chirping overhead in the sleepy hum of D.C. suburbia. They looked like tourists, really. Two travelers with their bags and fatigue under their eyes. Nothing suspicious. Nothing wild. Just two people with too much history tucked into carry-ons.

As the car drove off and the sound of its tires faded, Chan walked up to the doorstep and gave three sharp knocks against the wood. There was a pause. Then footsteps. A shuffle. The squeak of a hinge and the door cracked open.

“Jesus Christ,” came a voice, deep and raspy, still thick with morning. “Who the hell fucked you?”

Chan barked out a laugh. “Real welcoming, Bin.”

“Hey,” Changbin grinned, stepping back so they could see him fully. He was barefoot in sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy, a toothbrush still in his mouth like a cigarette. “Had to be said. You look like a war crime.”

“I was a war crime,” Chan said with a smirk. “Come on, Y/N.”

Y/N stepped forward cautiously, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes darting over Changbin with subtle appraisal. She recognized the CIA air before he even spoke—calculated eyes, compact build, that low hum of suspicion always thrumming under the surface.

Changbin blinked at her. “And you are…?”

Chan shifted beside her. “FBI. She found me.”

There was a beat. Then Changbin’s lips twitched.

“A she found you?” he said, brow raised. “Damn, low blow, bro. I thought the Ghost of Langley would be found by some tatted-up Russian or an old white guy named Walter, but this—?” He let out a breathy laugh. “Nah, I like this better.”

Chan rolled his eyes and flipped him off as he crossed the threshold. “Eat shit.”

“Already did. The yogurt expired two days ago,” Changbin shot back, closing the door behind them with a heavy clunk and twisting the locks. He looked back at them. “Make yourselves at home. Couch is yours. Kitchen’s to the right. Don’t touch my protein powder or we fight.”

Y/N smiled politely, easing her bag down by the wall. The space was cozy in that ex-operative kind of way—bare walls, sturdy furniture, hidden cameras in the corner if you looked hard enough. Homey... if your version of home came with bulletproof blinds.

Chan looked over at Changbin again, that subtle softness tugging at the edge of his mouth.

“I missed you, bro.”

That wasn’t something they said easily. Not in this world. Not unless they meant it. Changbin’s expression flickered. “Yeah, well… you better’ve. I had to watch your name bounce through six different kill lists like a damn ping pong tournament.” He crossed over and pulled Chan into a half hug, the kind where you clap each other’s backs hard enough to bruise. “Good to see you in one piece, man.”

“You too.” Chan stepped back, grinning. “How’s your girl?”

Changbin snorted, dragging a hand through his hair. “Mad at me. Thinks I took a late-night op to avoid therapy again.”

“Did you?”

“Obviously.” He gave a shrug like: what’s a man to do? “She’ll forgive me. Eventually. I bought her a plant.” Chan shook his head with a smile. “You’re gonna die in your sleep.”

“Probably. At least I’ll die pretty.”

And just like that, the door to safety had shut behind them but the door to strategy, to planning, to war, had quietly opened. And no one said it aloud yet, but it was there in the glances, the sighs, the heaviness behind every word.

Because this wasn’t just a safe house.

This was the first chess move.

I can't wait for my lovely blue to see this 😙

Taglist: purple means I can't tag you

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~kc 💗

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #straykids #skzco #bang chan #bystay #han jisung #hyunjin #christopher bang #bangchan #chris bang #bangchan scenario #bang chan x reader #skz chris #christopher bahng #skz fanfic #skz fic #~kc's 💗

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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My pretty Kc,

This is the last one for today cause I can already hear Chan saying “like mate, stop procrastinating” — I need to get back to studying. 😭

For part 4, I’ve got two quotes

“You know…” he drawled, stepping slightly closer. “I swear I’ve seen your face before. Not here, of course. Somewhere more… volatile.”

“Barely. But I never forget a battlefield. Or the faces I see there.” His gaze locked on hers. “Like yours.” Her stomach flipped. Shit. The tension snapped in her spine, but she forced a laugh.”

He saw her before? In a battlefield? Hm… right, ok. I’ll not say she was involved in Nightfall (cause if she was… my girl is a very good actress, fooling everyone)… I will say tho, I don’t think Petrov is bluffing AND I don’t think he’s the kind of guy to be involved in simple operations, so… I’ve come to the (kinda obvious, but certain) conclusion: this girl is hiding things.

From your overthinker reader,

-🩵

Gurl I love this so much 😭😭 I can't answer the Petrov question 😭 I'd be spoiling it all!!! But no she wasn't involved in nightfall. Of course he's not involved in simple missions. He's Russian. 😅 Trust me Y/N is hiding so much but it's not only her tho

Teasing part 7 rn...

#~anonn!!#💙 anon #blue 💙

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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Kc, my Kc…

This is ask number 3 - we’re halfway there

Jisung gave her an approving nod. "That one’s good for a beginner—custom grip, lightweight, and a built-in recoil compensator. Won’t kick as hard as the others."

"Oh, great. Love that for me," she muttered.

Tbh… I’m surprised that she’s so unfamiliar with guns… I thought she would’ve seen a little more action during her FBI years… She had a gun on her when she first went looking for Chris… But why would she be faking, right? Maybe she’s more of a desk agent? Not really on the field? Cause aiming the gun wrongly was just… idk

He met her gaze then, something quieter in his expression. "Because you have people waiting for you back home. People who love you. If something happens to you… they’ll be devastated." He exhaled, voice dropping just slightly. "Me? No one’s gonna care if I don’t make it back."

About his family we’re clear now, a sensitive topic. Does SHE have someone waiting for her at home? (ik the answer to that could be a spoiler, so it’s fine if you don’t say anything, i just want to express my curiosity haha)

I’ll be back (it’s a promise, not a threat)

-🩵

Well blue, when we start the story she is actually a desk agent, the most she's gotten is like being in a car or truck in the field. But nothing more. Hence, the files. And since we have now established that she is not FBI it just proves that she faked her innocence with the weapons.

No, I don't think she has anyone 😭 I thought about it for a while but it didn't sit well with me. But if she did have someone miss her that wasn't family?....

#~anonn!!#blue 💙#💙 anon

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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hihiii

first time reading your work and omggg i’m addicted there all so good!!

quick question will there be a pt2 to salt in my lungs??

stay safe💙💙

Aww thanks darling 🥰

Do you want a part two? In my mind that was the ending but if y'all really want one...

#anon ask #~she talks

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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My sweet gurl Kc…

For part 2 I only have one thing to highlight:

"Chan hesitated. He’s got this thing… he hates killing people who have someone waiting for them. Innocent people. I guess in his mind, if you have a loved one, you can’t be all bad."

Are we ever gonna learn more about Chan’s family? Like, what’s his lore? He was trained since he was a teen? He didn’t just spawn at 20, right? (like Han spawned at 13 lol) Also, later in the fic he says Seungmin reminded him of his brother and I assume he was referring to his brother by blood, right?

So… today's topic was family. Stay tuned for the next one 😉(I’m loving this)

-🩵

My lovely blue!

Yes yes he has a family...well...

He definitely has d blood brother (I see what you did with han 😂)

Well I more or less want to keep his family as a topic he never touches but if it gets to that part I will open it up. He could've been trained since he was a teen don't ya think? That'd be so cool...

#stray kids #~anonn!!#💙 anon #~her thoughtz #~she talks

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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My darling Kc 💕 I'm glad we're matching each other's freak 😂

I bring thoughts and questions, starting with chapter 1:

Assuming this is happening in 2025, she’s been in the agency for 5 years, Chris was “killed” in 2023… there was a overlap of 3 years in their time at FBI… did they work together in any case? Even without realizing?

“You hesitated for only a second before responding. “Y/N.” He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he walked back toward his desk.”

Maybe I am trying to find things that aren’t here… but he did chuckle when she said her name, that screamed “ hmmm I know this name” for me. Does he? Know her? Or even recognize the name?

"Or maybe… she hadn't been careless. Maybe they were watching her before she even found him."

Why would they be watching her? Is Chan assuming someone found out she was diving into something out of her designed work and decided to keep an eye on her? Is he assuming she did something (unrelated to him) that made them start keeping tabs on her? (Ik we found out later that it was the russians, but for this thought to cross his mind... it could mean something)

Those were the topics I highlighted for part 1, you do realize I'm trying to see if she's deeper in this than she's letting on, right?

xoxo

-🩵

Gurl I'm obsessed already 😊😊 let's start shall we?

1. Well due to chan's ranking as the FBI's golden boy he and y/n never crossed paths in previous missions and ops. You could also say that they were in different areas too. Seeing that the first time y/n saw Chan was in his file, they had no prior relationship or interaction.

2. He doesn't know or recognize the name, he just found it interesting 😅

3. Yes someone could have been watching her, could've known that she was looking for a ghost or trying to find answers. And seeing as it was the Russians that attacked the place they were in...well that gives you the answer of who it was right? Ehehehehe

Im loving this.

#💙 anon #~anonn!!#~askme #~she talks #ghost protocol

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

Text

I know at this point we're all supposed to remain calm and positive but what if something happens to them that won't make it a happily ever after?? 😭 We must remain calm...this is so beautiful honestly GAHH

Dolly VIII

~ part 8 of the Dolly series

pairing: chan x afab!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: running from the past brought you right back to the beginning.

wc: 10.2k

warnings: paranoia, nightmares, struggles with being infertile, mentions of blood, violence and death, unprotected sex

a/n: this is what y/n's dog looks like

~ divider by @bunnysrph

You were tossing and turning in your bed as the scenes unfolded in your tortured mind. It was the same thing over and over again. The white walls, the tall ceilings, the lab coats, the whirring sounds, the dead emotionless eyes, the clacking of nails against keyboards, the big water tanks with silhouettes of something floating inside them.

Sweat covered your entire body as you struggled to remember just what the hell this place from your dreams was. You were standing there in the long corridor that seemed to shrink and elongate the longer you stared at the heavy door at the end of it. You were wearing a lab coat and gloves and your shoes squeaked against the perfectly clean and scrubbed floor. Your footsteps were slow and heavy, like you were struggling against some force as you walked, appearing to be in slow motion.

Then you heard it.

A scream, rippling through your body and making the hairs at the back of your neck stand as it echoed in the empty corridor. You realized then that it was you screaming, right before your hand touched the door handle.

Your eyes snapped open and you sat up abruptly, your breathing ragged as little beads of sweat rolled down your face. Your hands clutched at the cover around you, holding it in a death grip as you tried to anchor yourself and take note of your surroundings. As if on cue, your dog Asher appeared by your side, his big paws pressed on the mattress as he let out a few inquisitive whines, his head tilting left and right. You let out a little chuckle as your breath evened out and you started petting Asher.

"It's okay, it was just a nightmare." you said and cuddled your dog as he nudged his head against you.

You've had Asher since he was just a small baby and being a bullmastiff he grew into a very big and heavy dog, perfect for someone like you, someone who was living alone and surrounded by the forest. You felt uneasy being alone there but you didn't trust any humans so a protective dog was something you needed by your side.

A sweet and loyal friend like Asher whose entire world is you.

You gave him a few more loving pets before you stood up and went to your bathroom to splash some cold water on your face. The nightmares plagued you for years and the worst thing was that you had no idea if they were real or not. There was an entire chunk of your memory missing, a good three years of your life gone like they never existed. You could only remember bits and pieces but not the entire story. It was as if someone wiped your memory off, like they didn't want you to know something. All you knew was the fear and the anxiety that grew inside you after losing your memory.

You couldn't stand being around people, it made you feel crazy. It was as if they were out to get you, someone, someone was following every move you made, listening in on what you said, what you did. You couldn't trust anyone, not even your loved ones so you left it all and disappeared from their lives without any trace.

You only had a few people who knew your phone number, and that was your mother, your sister and one friend you still somewhat trusted. You rarely talked to them anyways, focusing instead on your dog and your house. It was an old little cabin in the woods and in the last three years you've been here, you worked on it every day, repairing it and tending to your garden, growing your own vegetables and fruit. Even though you couldn't remember those three years missing from your life, you remembered the time before. You knew you were tech-savvy and that you worked for some pretty big companies.

But none of that could ever explain the huge amount of cash in your bank account. You had no idea where the money came from but it was enough for you to live a comfortable life and not have to work ever again. Still, you weren't a big spender, you enjoyed the simple life.

Taking walks with Asher, swimming in the lake, working around the house. Those were your simple pleasures. Yes, sometimes you'd mourn the life you had before. The relationship you had, the man by your side who promised to love you until he found out that you were 'broken' as he said during a heated argument, the venomous words leaving his lips and shooting you straight into the wound that hurt the most, the fact that you couldn't have children, something you yearned for your entire life. The moment your doctor gave you those news, you felt like your entire world came crashing down. And when the man you wanted to spend your entire life with pushed you even further down with his words and the pity in his eyes, like you were less of a woman, it was the last straw.

The last straw after struggling to remember where your nightmares were coming from, why you had this growing paranoia inside you that made you alert of every little sound and every stranger who looked at you for too long, why were you punished with something you wanted so badly being taken away from you.

You left without looking back.

Years later and here you were. Enjoying your peaceful life, the nightmares were plaguing you less and less as time went by. You wrote them all down in a little diary, hoping that maybe one day you'd be able to remember what was ripped away from you. Some days you thought it was better that you didn't remember anything, maybe it was something so horrible that you were better off not knowing what it was. Of course, being a technology lover you had to have a computer, but you were careful about any public accounts you had, changing your name and hiding your location. You didn't want anyone to find out where you lived but you still wanted to be aware of what was happening around you.

"You wanna go for a walk?" you asked Asher as soon as you got dressed, putting on a tracksuit for comfort and easy movement. Your dog perked up immediately, barking happily as he jogged towards you and started pushing you lightly with his head. A series of chuckles left your lips and you grabbed your little bag with a water bottle and snacks for Asher along with a banana that would serve as your breakfast for now.

It was a nice chilly morning, the sun rays were peeking through the trees as you locked up your house and started walking on the familiar path you always took with Asher. He was happily walking along, sniffing around and enjoying the fresh air with you. The sounds of the forest filled up your soul, the birds singing in the trees, the breeze rustling through the leaves, the distant waterfall. It was all so peaceful and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

But, the uneasy feeling you had during your nightmare hasn't left you ever since you woke up. What was behind the door? What was the significance of the number eight? It was written on the door with black ink bleeding down the metal and seeping onto the floor.

There was eight of them.

Again. The nightmare was happening again. It was the same long white corridor, the same heavy door at the end of it, the same number eight painted in black ink. Your footsteps were heavy as you struggled to reach the door, to turn the doorknob. A metallic smell filled up your nostrils the closer you got to it and you realized it wasn't black ink sliding down the door, it was dark red blood. With a gasp you gripped the doorknob and swung open the door.

Loud barks brought you back to reality. It took you a moment to realize you were on the ground in the forest, your nails digging into the earth beneath you as you stared up at the trees, seeing Asher hovering over you and barking, nudging you with his head.

"Did I faint?" you questioned out loud, immediately clutching onto your dog who seemed happy and relieved to see you awake even though he was still barking confusedly. "I'm okay, Asher."

As soon as you returned home, you dialed your mother's number.

"Hello?" her familiar voice rang from the other side of the receiver.

"Mom?" your voice came out shaky.

"Y/n?! Oh my god, Y/n!" your mom almost cried out in happiness. "Where are you? Are you coming back home?"

"N-no, I-I can't come back. I can never come back. I just... I just called because the nightmares are getting worse. I thought it was getting better but-"

"That's why you have to come back home and get the help you need. Please, let me be there for you. We'll find someone you can talk to." your mom begged and you could hear the sniffles. She was crying.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. They'll find me." you whispered, looking over at Asher who was finishing his meal. "I have Asher here, I'm not alone."

"I know you love your dog but-"

"I have to hang up now. The call can't be longer than a minute and we are going over that frame of time now. I'm sorry, I love you mom." you said quickly before hanging up. You clutched the phone in your hand and stared at it as your breathing got faster. You needed to write everything down in your diary.

You remembered your friend who you haven't heard from in a long time. She always mentioned some company called BIMT to you but the name meant nothing, you tried and tried but you couldn't remember. Not that and especially not someone named Helena who was apparently the person who opened up the institute. Your heart sped up as you started turning the pages of your diary.

You were always afraid of finding out the truth but something was telling you that it was time for you to make some effort to remember more.

You sat in front of your computer a few days later, hands clutching at the end of the table to stop them from shaking. The nightmares were becoming too much again and on top of the fear they kept feeding inside you, Asher was barking at a particular tree in the forest every time you took the same path for a walk.

It was making your paranoia rise so you started taking a different route. Asher didn't bark at any empty spaces there but you still couldn't shake off the dark feeling following you everywhere. Your hands hovered over the keyboard, it was time to see what this so called Helena looked like.

You typed her name into the search bar and immediately upon seeing her picture come up something twisted in your stomach, gnawed at your insides and made you want to vomit. Disgust filled you up and you quickly exited the page. Did you know her? You must've, judging by the strong reaction your body had upon seeing her. You wished you could remember more, know what happened to you.

You had asked your loved ones and all they knew was that you were working on some secret project at BIMT and that one day you came home completely disoriented, not even remembering your own name, as if you were in some sort of trance. You spent ten days in the hospital stuttering and speaking nonsense about some dolls and about a dead body you apparently saw. They had no idea what the hell you were talking about or what you were doing at the institute, no one knew what went on in there since it wasn't made public.

It left you feeling so frustrated.

You went about your day, trying to shake off the weird feeling of being watched. You managed to get rid of it once you moved out of the city but lately it started coming back. As if half asleep you went through the motions of your usual day; walk with Asher, cooking, cleaning, working around the house, the garden, taking a relaxing bath. And before you knew it night had fallen over the forest, the darkness enveloping the trees and whatever lurked behind them.

You cuddled up in your bed, feeling content under the blankets and with Asher sleeping on the floor next to your bed on his blanket. You knew you were not safe in your dreams though and you dreaded falling asleep. You tried relaxing as much as you could, starting with that bath you took, to now having a little night light and some soothing incense burning in your room. You hoped you'd have calm dreams or rather that you won't dream about anything tonight.

But you were wrong.

Once again, you were in your lab coat walking slowly through the white corridor towards the big metal door. The number eight was still bleeding slowly towards the floor and suddenly you were standing in front of the door with your hand on the doorknob. Something inside you screamed to turn around and leave but you turned the knob and swung open the door. The scream that left your lips echoed all around you. Helena was laying on the floor in an unnatural position, her skin looked bluish and her eyes have almost completely lost their spark.

"Helena!" you screamed and ran towards her, your hands hovering over her body as you had no idea if you should touch her or not.

"Please, keep them safe. Don't let anything happen to them." she grabbed your hand weakly, giving you the key you always saw her wear around her neck. "Give this to Chan when you can. He'll know what it's for." she spoke between breaths and then her hand dropped as you clutched onto the key.

"Hey, grab her!" you heard voices yelling and footsteps running down the corridor and you snapped your head towards them to see a few androids coming towards you with their hands reached out to grab you. You stood up and tried your best to fight them or dodge but they grabbed you and one of them held a huge injection in his hand, lifting it up. You felt a sting in your neck and then there was nothing around you but a black void.

In the darkness, you saw him, your ex looking at you with pity in his eyes. Mocking you, pointing at you, the loud sound of cackling coming out of his mouth, echoing around you and making it seem like there were more and more people surrounding you and laughing at you.

"Stop it! Please, stop it!" you screamed, covering your ears with your palms and shutting your eyes tightly as you begged for the laughter to stop.

You woke up abruptly to the sound of the phone ringing and Asher barking at the device as you breathed hard, your body heated with a thin sheen of sweat over your skin. You stood up quickly and ran to the phone, your hand trembling as you picked it up.

"H-hello?" you shivered at the sudden coldness enveloping your body after you left your heated bed.

"Y/n!" a chirpy voice sounded from the other side and you sighed in relief, it was just your friend.

"Oh, hey." you cleared your throat and opened up your fridge to find a cold water bottle.

"Are you sitting down? Cause you won't believe what I have to tell you." she started and you rolled your eyes, thinking it was some drama she found out by hacking someone's account. You took a big swig of water and sat down as Asher came towards you, letting out a few barks.

"I'm sitting down, what is it?" you inhaled slowly and looked up at the clock, it was a little later than you usually wake up and Asher was probably ready for his walk.

"I know you worked at BIMT and I know you don't remember it but they just recently launched a line of eight sex dolls and well I got one. Long story short, he is sort of alive. And I suspect all the others are too, I hacked into his code and Y/n, it's something that I've never seen before. This code, it's alive. It changes with activity when the doll talks and thinks. It's like the code has a mind of its own and the dolls have conscience, they're not just robots, they feel, dream, think and wish. I don't know who else to ask for help except you, maybe you'd even remember something or know how they were made and why. And what happened to Helena, who is in charge now... Please. The first doll made was Chan, I think you should get him."

As she talked, you felt your body trembling and your ears ringing with the anxiety rising inside you. It was like your dreams, there were eight of them, Helena was there and she spoke about someone named 'Chan'.

It was all too much.

"So, can you take Chan? I think we might have a chance of helping the dolls if you do. Since Jisung was 'sleeping' and supposed to just be used as a sex doll, then the other dolls might be struggling too. I don't think it's right. Maybe they're not completely human... but their heart is beating. They hurt, they feel. They think. They don't deserve to be mistreated."

You thought for a moment and despite all the nervousness shaking you up, something nagged at you to say yes. You felt like you needed to help them, like you held the key to discovering just what was happening in the mysterious institute.

"Fine. I'll help them. I will take Chan." you paused. "What do you hope to achieve once I get him?"

"I'm working on a plan. I'll let you know." your friend said and you exhaled.

It was a lot to process and you knew you'd have to face your past and your fears if you wanted to help these dolls. Asher barked loudly, jumping up and almost knocking you from the bar chair you were sitting on. You let out a chuckle, giving him a few pats.

"We're going for a walk now, don't worry."

As soon as you stepped out of the cabin, taking in the greenery around you and inhaling the fresh air, your mind started to calm down. You took the new route you've been walking on recently, leading to a nice clearing where you could play with Asher. For a moment there you forgot about Helena, BIMT and the dolls and your soul was at peace.

But as soon as you got home and gave Asher some food, you sat down at your computer and opened up the site with the dolls. Upon seeing them, something fluttered in your chest. Especially looking at the Chan and Minho doll. They seemed to stand out to you, their faces seemed the most familiar. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could see what the Chan doll looked like while smiling. A shiver ran down your spine as you hovered your mouse over his picture. You were really doing this.

A week later, you climbed in your truck with Asher on the passenger seat as you went to pick up the package. You had it delivered at the nearest post office which was a twenty minute drive. You didn't want to order the doll directly to your house, it was too risky. Driving there was soothing, the nature around you and the empty road made you feel like you were the only person there, as if it all belonged just to you. Asher was also happy to be on the passenger seat, his head stuck out the window as he enjoyed the wind.

The package was very large as you expected and the worker helped you get it in the back of your truck. The drive back home was fast.

Somehow, you managed to get the big box in your living room with Asher's 'help' aka him running around your legs, barking at the box and sniffing it and almost making you drop it on your feet twice.

"Asher!" you chuckled in frustration, playfully petting his head before you looked down at the box. Your chest felt tight suddenly and you tried to calm down your breathing as you placed your hand on your heart and started taking deep breaths in.

"Let's do this." you nodded, determined to start facing your past.

After opening up the box and removing the bubble wrap, you came face to face with the doll called Chan. His face, it was familiar and it brought up fuzzy memories and feelings that you couldn't quite put your finger on. You stared at him for a moment before picking up the paper in the box.

Hello,

My name is Chan and I am your protective doll.

I love creating music, working out, spending time in the nature or at the beach. I mostly wear black clothes, making me look like some sort of bodyguard. But don't be intimidated, I'm gentle on the inside.

I am used to taking care of others, so every now and then I need someone to lean on and take care of me as I tend to forget myself.

I hope you'll be the one for me and that you'll come to love me as much as I love you!

It was freaky, the way the doll 'spoke' inside the letter like it was alive. You swallowed as you stared at it, Asher scaring you with his sudden barking. He seemed to be excited, his tail wagging as he jumped around the box and barked at Chan.

"You like him, don't you?" you asked Asher and he kept on barking as if to answer your question. "Alright, I trust your canine wisdom." you laughed and kneeled down to keep unwrapping the bubble wrap. You noticed another paper sticking from the pocket of Chan's jacket so you picked it up.

Hey there, my peach!

I dressed a little nicer for our first date.

I'm looking forward to spending time with you, I hope you are excited too.

"Peach?" you chuckled and shook your head with a slight smile.

You had no idea what to make of all this, you wished you could remember more and know just how you were a part of this and why did Chan dolly seem so familiar to you?

You knew your friend would call you with the plan she had come up with and in the meantime you didn't want to mess with the doll too much, your paranoia made you overly cautious. Thoughts swirled in your mind; what if this was some kind of set up? What if the doll comes to life during the night and hurts you? What if they put a tracking device inside the doll and now they'll find you? The androids from your dream, they were working for someone very powerful, that's what you knew. And someone with so much power could do all sorts of things... But then again, your memory was wiped somehow and the huge amount of cash in your bank account almost seemed like an apology.

You shook your head and decided to put Chan in the guest room. You were too afraid and confused, filled with so many emotions that were swirling inside your gut, rising up and almost making you throw up. You needed to get your mind off of things so you laid Chan dolly in bed with Asher following behind you and sniffing the doll curiously.

"Let's go." you said to Asher and shooed him out of the room before glancing at Chan one more time. With a sigh you closed and locked the door, too afraid to be too close to the suspicious doll. If only you could remember your relationship with it, maybe you'd be more at ease. Right now, you only had more questions in your mind.

You decided to go about your day, working in your garden and around the house, keeping your mind occupied and away from all the anxieties that were swarming in your brain. Hours passed and you were finally in bed, too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. You remembered that Chan dolly was in the next room suddenly and for some reason a feeling of comfort washed over you. You knew him. You were becoming more and more sure about that.

Chan sat across from you in a chair with some kind of machine hooked up to the back of his neck, the cables leading to your computer as you typed. He watched you quietly with a hint of curiosity in his eyes while you worked. There was a steady beeping sound filling up the room together with the sound of your fingers hitting the keys on the keyboard. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile.

"Has the buzzing subsided?" you asked.

"Yes, it's almost gone." he answered.

"Helena will be glad to hear that." you nodded and typed in a few more parameters before Chan spoke up again.

"Is it true that our mother is sick?" the question made you stop in your tracks. You slowly lifted your head from the screen and looked at the confused expression on the doll's face.

"Yes, sadly it is true." you answered, watching as he tilted his head left and right while processing what you said.

"Will she be okay?" he asked, his eyes big and innocent. You sighed, there was still so much to do, so much to add to the code, to feed to the algorithm. He needed to expand, the artificial cell growth needed to be accelerated for everything to work as it was supposed to and mostly for the vision Helena had. It was one hell of a task and you were a part of it, the brilliant team she put together.

"We don't know yet." you answered truthfully.

"Who is doctor Park?" Chan asked suddenly, making you jolt a little.

"How did you hear about all this?" you asked him, leaning back in your chair.

"O-on accident." the doll seemed to become nervous. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I was walking by Mother's office and I heard her talking on the phone, saying how she is sick and that there is a doctor Park trying to take away her project, make it into something different."

"Shit." you cursed quietly.

"Did I do something wrong?" Chan asked, the doll showing fear and anxiety on his face. You looked back at the screen of your computer, noticing how beautifully the code was developing and changing on its own. It truly seemed like some kind of magic.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. Everything is okay, Channie." you reassured him with a kind smile which he returned, his brows smoothing immediately.

"I like that nickname." he said thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" you let out a chuckle, the doll expressing something like that was new which meant that everything was developing just as it was supposed to. Now, if only you could help Helena somehow, know that she'll be okay and keep away doctor Park, then everything would be perfect. And the dolls would be ready to be introduced to the world soon, make a life for themselves along with humans.

Your eyes snapped open and you blinked a few times, realizing that the sun was rising, the first rays peeking through your window. You sat up in confusion. That wasn't a dream, it was a memory.

You were indeed working at BIMT alongside Helena, helping her out with the dolls. You knew Chan and he knew you. But you still had no idea about the rest of the details like how they were made, what was their purpose and what was your specialty. You couldn't remember what role you played exactly but it must've been something important. You stood up quickly, Asher joining you, already excited for his walk. But before that, you had to check on Chan.

Your hand shook above the handle of the door, the images of the bloody door in the lab from your nightmares flashing in your mind. You shook it off and opened the door. Chan was in the same position you left him and you stood on the doorway for a moment before tentatively approaching the bed.

"Hello. I don't know if you can hear me and I feel more crazy talking to you than I already did before. But I'm gonna help you. I'm not exactly sure how but I know that everything will be okay." you tried to talk to the doll and calm yourself at the same time. Chan didn't move or say anything so you sighed and left the room.

You were still waiting for your friend to tell you what her plan was.

It's been exactly 22 days since you got Chan and there was no changes in his state, he seemed to be completely frozen in space and time. You put him in your living room for a while which proved to be a mistake since Asher wanted to jump on top of the doll and play with him constantly. He couldn't understand why something human-looking ignored him and didn't pet him or play with him. You laughed at your dog's cuteness even though you were nervous that he'd accidentally break Chan. So you put him back in the guest room where he spent those days since you got him.

Your memories were coming back in snippets and you were sure that this doctor Park that kept being talked about in your dreams was an evil person and that the androids who worked for him, the ones that injected you with something when you found Helena's body may be following you or listening in on your phone conversations.

But there was no other way to communicate with your friend. And she had finally called you with her plan. Most of the dolls were already sold out, it was a craze. She wanted you to wake Chan up first like she woke her Jisung dolly up on the computer for her plan to work.

And for some reason you were too afraid to do that.

She called you again two weeks later, when you were losing your mind with torturous nightmares and jumbled memories that you couldn't place in order or even understand what half of them meant. You were losing grip on reality, you had no idea which dream was just that and which one was a memory that actually happened to you.

Your paranoia grew and you needed help.

"Hey there, friend! How's everything going with your dolly? Did you wake him up yet?" your friend asked after calling you.

"Not yet. I'm scared to." you answered, looking out the window.

"Just do as I did. He'll wake up just like Jisung did. And speaking of Jisung, he really wants to see Chan."

Your breath got caught in your throat. People coming here, finding out your address, knowing where you lived...

"I- I don't know about that. What if you get followed here?" you panicked as all sorts of thoughts started swirling in your mind. "I don't want them to find me."

"Who is 'them'?" she asked but you couldn't even explain it all to yourself.

"I can't say. They may be listening, may know Channie is here. I can't risk it anymore, I can't!"

"Please, just calm down! We need to help the dolls, and no one can do it but us, do you understand that? I know that you're scared but trust me, okay?" you heard the desperation in her voice and you knew there was no one else who could help her and the dolls but you.

You sighed and turned around, nervously picking at your clothes.

"Alright. But if something happens-"

"Nothing will happen. Well, nothing bad. I promise."

You weren't very reassured but you knew there was no other choice.

It was time to wake Chan up.

You were sitting in front of your computer, one end of the cable already hooked into it as your shaky hand held the other end. You hesitated as you stared at the usb opening on the back of Chan's neck. There was no more time to waste, you had to do this now.

You hooked him up finally, opening up your terminal and typing. Your friend told you exactly what to do to open the code and when you finally had it in front of you, it seemed familiar. You gasped as you looked at the lines of code, it was as if you knew them in your heart. The code was beautiful, so intricate and different than any other program you worked on. You found the factory reset loop and looked at Chan one more time before clicking it.

You waited for a few moments as nothing was happening and the only sounds you could hear was your heart beating in your ears and Asher's little sigh as he dozed off on the carpet. Suddenly, the doll's cheeks reddened and his eyes watered as he gasped for air. You jolted and Asher lifted his head immediately, barking at the doll.

Your eyes widened while you watched it all unfold as he started breathing, coughing, his skin becoming flushed. Chan looked confused and scared for a moment before his eyes landed on you and they mirrored your expression, widening as he stared at you.

"Y/n?" his voice was hoarse.

"C-Channie?" you gasped, you couldn't believe that he remembered you.

Asher was already all over Chan, sniffing him and barking at him, his tail wagging happily. Chan smiled at your dog despite the craziness of the situation and his total confusion. You grabbed a water bottle and gave it to Chan.

He was really alive and you were in complete and utter shock.

"You remember me?" you asked as you fidgeted with your fingers. You had no idea what your relationship with him was other than the little snippets where you saw yourself working on his code, still never being able to see clearly just what you were typing.

"I remember everything." he said and you gasped again.

"E-everything?" you stuttered as you kept staring at him. Chan started petting Asher who was now sitting by his side, trusting him completely, it made you feel at ease.

"Don't you? You don't remember me?" he asked.

"Only bits and pieces. I think my memory was wiped. Helena-"

"I know, they killed her. Well he ordered it, doctor Park. And his little androids did all the dirty work."

"Please, help me remember. I have no idea what I was doing exactly at BIMT." you pleaded, feeling like you were on the precipice of something big.

"You were working on the development of the code, specifically you were specializing in our mental state and sometimes about physical problems we'd feel like buzzing in our ears or itching. We used to come to your office to talk to you and you'd give us tests and then check at the development of the code. You spent a lot of time with me and Minho, we were your main patients so to speak."

"So I was like a counselor or psychologist? But I don't remember ever taking any courses in that... I just know I am good with technology, I know I went to college as a developer. I can't remember much else about my education. And then I remember being with my ex and working for a few different companies. Lately, I remembered working at BIMT and talking to you mostly, but I have no idea what happened overall since I started working there until I stopped. It's frustrating."

Chan nodded as he listened to you speak.

"I would be frustrated if my memory was wiped too. But it wasn't, not like the other dolls' memory was. Because Helena gave me something that would help me remember, she knew what doctor Park's intentions were. She couldn't stop him because she was too weak and sick and we didn't know who to ask for help. Doctor Park scared most of the team somehow, I have no idea what he threatened them with but you were one of the ones that stayed the longest. Though I guess that Park did a lousy job of wiping memory if you are starting to remember things." Chan explained.

"That he did." you let out a chuckle of disbelief, your head was swimming with so many questions. "What did Helena give you to remember?"

"She gave me a usb stick with some code and I used it to protect my memory."

"Were we close? You and me, I mean." you asked after a pause.

"Yes, you were always like a friend to me. You treated us like... Like we were human. You took into consideration our thoughts and feelings. You and Helena were the only people we really felt safe with. I mean, the rest of the team was okay too but they treated us as if we were products." Chan leaned back in the chair as Asher settled down next to him, continuing his nap that was interrupted earlier.

"Wait, so how did this happen? All of you 'sleeping', becoming sex dolls?" Chan blushed slightly at that.

"It was doctor Park. I don't know which modifications he did to our code but we were all unable to move after some time, after Helena died and all the old team was gone, only the androids were left and they worked on us. I just hope my brothers don't remember that part." Chan trailed off, looking at the ground. "Do you know where they are?" he looked up at you.

"I know only where Jisung is. My friend has him, actually she is the one who asked me to get you and help you out. She has a plan on how to help all the dolls break free. We just need a way to contact the other doll owners."

You explained to Chan what the plan was and he listened intently, sitting silent for a few moments before he spoke up.

"I have an idea."

"What is it?" you tilted your head at him.

"We gather everyone in one place. That would be the easiest, wouldn't it?" Chan asked and you nodded.

"Yes, but how would we do that?"

"Simple, we add something alarming into my code, like a mistake and it'll get the attention of BIMT and they'll come get all the dolls. Let them know I'm awake, that we all are even if some of them aren't awake yet."

"Can it hurt you?" you asked and Chan smiled a little.

"No, it will just be like a warning to the institute, I think it's safe to do this."

"Let me call my friend and discuss with her." you said and he agreed.

It was one hell of a long phone call, you forgot about the fact that someone might be listening in as you put her on speaker so Jisung could hear Chan's voice, the poor guy broke down and started crying after talking to Chan, making you feel even more determined to help the dolls break free.

The plan was set and you were ready to make BIMT and doctor Park pay.

The fresh breeze drifted through the leaves and grass, bringing the sweet smell of flowers towards you and enveloping you in a kind of calm state of being. You watched as Chan ran around the field with Asher, throwing him a stick they'd found and Asher running back to bring it to him.

It's been a week since you woke him up and despite all the fears and doubts that tormented you, having him near you and sharing your private sanctuary with him felt natural, as if he's been there forever. You felt safe and protected, Asher loved him and you had someone else to talk to except yourself and your dog. Chan turned to look at you as if he knew that you were thinking about him and gave you that blinding smile that made your heart flutter.

Come evening, Chan and you were sitting down on the couch with Asher by your feet and once again you grabbed your journal and opened it up. For the last few days, Chan has been helping you remember, at least the things he participated in or knew were true. You could then eliminate dreams and expand on the memories, especially if he was there to witness them first hand.

"Hey, what about the key that Helena gave me? In my dream, she gave me that key she always wore on a necklace around her neck and said to give it to you, that you'd know what it was for." you asked Chan.

"She gave you the key?" Chan smiled, looking excited suddenly.

"She did. It's in my nightstand."

"Y/n, that's amazing! The key is for the safe in her mansion. There's money in there, her will, all the documents and papers containing information about us, how we were built from the very beginning to the last code. The instructions on how to build dolls that look and act human is inside that safe and you are holding the key." Chan said as he grabbed your hands excitedly.

Your body warmed up, both from the news and from the contact.

"Everything we need to know is in there? Which means, whoever gets the papers can make more dolls like the eight of you?"

"Yes and just imagine what could happen if it fell into wrong hands." Chan said and looked down at your hands in his, thumbs gently caressing your skin and soothing you even though your heart was fluttering. "We need to find Helena's mansion."

"You don't know where it is?"

"No, some information was scattered among us so they can't find everything out or it would be harder for them to do so. I believe that Jeongin is the one who knows locations." Chan said, still holding onto your hands and you were getting incredibly hot. It's been a long time since you had physical contact with another human being, someone who could hold you and soothe you like he could.

"Making him sound like GPS." you chuckled and Chan let out a laugh before his eyes landed on yours and he tilted his head.

"I'm so glad we found each other again." he said and you swallowed, feeling a little shiver running up your spine.

"Channie... Just how close were we?" you asked cautiously. The fluttering in your chest and stomach increased as your heart sped up and you watched his cheeks heating up.

"Honestly? Very close, I- I kissed you once. Which was very wrong because you were taken but you were so upset that day. You just found out the heartbreaking news that you couldn't, you know." he trailed off as you stared at him confusedly so he continued. "That you couldn't have kids and you got into this huge argument with your ex and started crying while explaining everything to me. And I just couldn't stand to see you so upset so I confessed my feelings and kissed you." Chan said, biting on his lip nervously as he tried to read your expression.

"Back up just a second. I told you about not being able to have kids while I was working at BIMT?"

"Yeah, you found it out not too long before all the shit went down."

"But I thought I found that out after BIMT. Because I remember when I woke up in the hospital and had no idea what happened to me since I worked my last job before that to the moment I opened my eyes. And my ex was there, and we were together for another year or so. And during that time I found out I couldn't have kids." you talked confusedly, trying to connect the dots.

"Wait, what if he had something to do with it?" Chan gasped.

"With what? Me not being able to have children?"

"No, your loss of memory."

You sat there thinking for a moment. If only the two of you knew about your problem while you were still at BIMT and then your memory was wiped before you found out again that you can't have kids...

"That bastard made me go through this horrible shit twice!" you stood up abruptly, anger rising up inside you. "He knew and he was somehow involved and the fucking asshole made me hear the most terrible news twice, take the same hit twice. Fuck!" you kicked the coffee table angrily and Asher barked, confused at your sudden outburst.

"Hey, hey." Chan stood up and wrapped his arms around you. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault. I should've known, I should've been more careful."

"You can't really blame yourself either, this is obviously something bigger than us. Someone orchestrated all of this and that someone is probably doctor Park. He was after us since the beginning, after Helena's money and legacy. We need to bring him down, find some dirt on him and expose him." Chan talked as he caressed your back in soothing circles.

"Let's work on that code then."

In the evening after you bid good night to Chan, you were left alone with your thoughts. Asher slept by your bed as always, watchful of you, giving you the physical sense of security you needed. But your mind was a bad place, everything was starting to connect. All your memories were coming back more detailed and intense, your work with the dolls, how you took care of them, how it felt as if they were your friends, how much effort you put into it all alongside Helena and the rest of the team. How your ex was very secretive and had weird phone calls and would disappear during the weirdest hours, always coming up with some sort of work excuse. Your blood boiled with anger as you felt that you were used like a puppet for whatever grand scheme was happening behind the scenes.

It was infuriating, feeling like your hands were tied back then and how you couldn't stop or change what happened. But, there was still time, the last hope hasn't died yet. You sighed as you tossed and turned in your bed, you needed comfort. You needed Chan.

You remembered spending time with him too, how sweet he was and how fond he seemed of you. Not only did you help him out, but he helped you out too, he was someone you could talk to about anything. You knew it was probably crossing the work relationship between the two of you but you couldn't care less. Chan made you feel good, he made you feel seen and heard.

So you remembered that day you cried to him and the way he kissed you like you were everything to him. A wave of warmness travelled through your entire body and you stood up, leaving Asher in your room as you went to the guest room and knocked gently on the door.

Chan wasn't sleeping either, his mind was also reeling with everything that was happening and his worry for the rest of the dolls grew. He just hopped they were all protected and in the hands of good people who would come to love them and take care of them. He hoped to see them once again, all together like they were once before in Helena's mansion.

"Come in." he said quietly and you walked in, closing the door behind you. "Can't sleep?" Chan added and you shook your head.

"I just keep thinking about everything. All my memories are coming back to me and now I can see more clearly than ever that I was just used for Park's plan." you sighed, sitting down on the bed.

Chan didn't hesitate pulling you into his embrace. You froze for a moment, all the years of isolation and swearing to yourself that you'll never let anyone close were making you want to run away but the warmth of his body and the need for someone to comfort you overtook the anxiety and you let yourself melt into him.

"I keep thinking about everything too. Especially my friends, I'm worried that someone who bought them might be treating them badly. I just hope they're okay." Chan said, a worried expression on his face.

"At least we know that Jisung is okay. And I'm sure whoever bought the other dolls is treating them well. I don't think someone would spend so much money just to throw it away."

"I guess but you never know with people. I just want us to be reunited again."

"Then we will do everything to make that happen." you said and wrapped your arms around Chan's waist. You pressed your head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat.

"Stay here tonight." Chan whispered into your hair and you squeezed him tighter.

The feelings you had for him before were coming back to you, even if it was forbidden or wrong back then, you couldn't help what you felt in your heart. You wanted him.

You looked up at him and desire grew inside you as his eyes roamed all over your face like he was trying to take in every single detail that makes you up. You sat up and grabbed his face, crashing your lips into his without any hesitation. Chan's eyes widened for a moment before he recovered and gripped your waist, kissing you equally as passionately.

Everything disappeared except the two of you, your hands roamed on each other's skin, tugging at the clothes, tongues explored each other's mouths and your hearts started racing fast in unison.

Your hands roamed under his shirt, touching the taut muscles as his hands gripped at your bare thighs, pulling you closer and making you grind against him. You groaned into his mouth, feeling his hot bulge pressed against your own heat and you couldn't help grinding harder against him, jolts of electricity running through your body. It's been so long since you felt wanted and you already couldn't get enough of him.

Chan's hands slid under your shirt, caressing the soft skin on your back and sides as he slowly made his way to your breasts. Your breath hitched when he grabbed them and started massaging them, his thumbs running over your sensitive nipples as his tongue explored your mouth.

You gripped the hem of his shirt and Chan broke off the kiss so you could take his shirt off. Your eyes roamed all over his figure, the wave of warmth inside you growing even hotter. He smirked a little and you gripped at your shirt, taking it off too. He grabbed at your body and swiftly turned you over so you were under him. A gasp escaped your lips as he manhandled you easily, hovering over you.

"I've wanted you for so long, Y/n. You're the only person who made me feel this way ever since I first saw you." he spoke and you shivered, gripping at his shoulders and pulling him down closer to you.

"Please Chan, I need you."

Hearing you say that made his entire being flutter, all he wanted in that moment was to feel you completely, to make you his. His lips travelled down your neck to your chest, paying special attention to your sensitive nipples as he slowly slid your shorts and underwear down, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable.

You spread your legs almost automatically, you needed him more than anything, you needed that connection you've been missing for a while. Chan took off his sweatpants and boxers and you whimpered as you looked at his cock, hanging hard between his legs, dripping and throbbing for you.

"It's been a while..." you trailed off and Chan nodded understandingly, his fingers pressing against your clit and moving in circles. You moaned, feeling yourself getting more wet and shivering as he played with the most sensitive part of you, his fingers sliding down to gather your wetness ocassionally before going back to your clit. His lips were everywhere, worshipping your skin and making you melt into the bed. He slowly pushed two of his fingers inside you as you gripped at his arms, feeling him opening you up and preparing you to take him.

You lost yourself completely in that moment as he brought you to your high quickly after finding that special spot inside you. You were already overwhelmed but you needed more and Chan was getting impatient, he wanted you more than anything.

When he finally started pushing his length inside of you, your entire body felt as if it was on fire and you held onto him as he groaned into your ear and gripped your hips tightly.

"So tight." Chan groaned as he filled you up and you clenched around him, your insides fluttering at the feeling. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust as his hands slid up and down your waist. You wrapped your arms around him and arched into him, needing him even closer. He slowly started to move and your legs wrapped around him, pushing him in deeper.

"I dreamt about you for so long." Chan groaned.

"Yeah?" your brain wasn't even registering completely what he was saying, your senses were focusing on the way his length dragged against your velvety walls.

"The thought of you kept me going in that place. Wishing I'd see you again one day." Chan confessed as he gripped your hips, moving languidly inside you, making you feel every inch of him filling you up.

"I'm sorry I forgot you." your nails dug into his upper back and you let out a moan as the tip of his cock pressed into your sweet spot.

"I'll make sure you never forget again." Chan whispered into your ear before thrusting harder into you and your legs trembled as you held onto him, your eyes rolling back. You completely melted into the feeling of him while he rocked your entire body as you clawed at him. You desperately needed something to hold on to and your nails were dragging up and down his back, leaving red angry marks but Chan loved it. He gripped your hips, getting completely lost in you as you clenched around him and let go while he fucked you through your high and chased his own.

All the pent up feelings got released when Chan exploded inside of you, filling you up and you whimpered at the feeling and the bliss that settled inside you. Both of you were taking a moment to come down to Earth when loud barking from the other side of the door scared you.

"Oh, Asher." you chuckled and Chan let out a snort.

"He'll need to wait for a moment." he added, getting up and making his way to the adjacent bathroom. After both of you cleaned up and got dressed you let Asher in. Your dog barked as if you had abandoned him and betrayed him and only calmed down after both of you gave him pats and called him a silly little pup, even though he was far from little.

He slept next to the bed like always and you slept in Chan's arms, blissful and loved.

The next few days were tough, you and Chan worked on the error code that would draw the attention of BIMT, consulting with your friend and Jisung at the same time.

The day you wrote and perfected the code, you knew that in the moment you activate it, everything will go into motion.

"Let's have a day just for us, forget about all of this." you told Chan, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at your stomach. You had no idea how everything would turn out even after you had planned out everything carefully. You didn't want to be separated from Chan ever again and he felt the same.

"Let's go see the waterfall." he nodded with a smile. You had promised him ever since he woke up that you'll take him there, together with Asher. So, the two of you got ready for the hike as it was a little far and Asher was excited as soon as he heard the word 'walk' come out of your mouth.

The nature around you was exactly what you needed, the fresh air and the song of the birds as you walked alongside Chan, Asher running in front of you and sniffing around. It was a perfectly spent morning, making you forget for a moment about all the shit that went down and was still bound to happen.

As you got to the waterfall, you took a few photographs with your camera, focusing on how beautiful Chan looked when he was happy and simply existing, noticing how soft his eyes would become as soon as they landed on yours.

"Do you think everything will go over well?" you asked as you stared at the mighty waterfall, the water splashing down loudly. Chan wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

"It has to. My brothers will be saved, BIMT will go down and nothing will ever separate us again." he spoke into your ear gently before kissing your cheek.

You hoped he was right even if it sounded too good to be true.

So you savored the moment, his embrace, Asher running around with his stick and the beautiful waterfall in front of you, just in case it would be the last memory you'd have to hold on to.

It was happening. BIMT had been warned about an error and the site closed after leaving notifications about the dolls being discontinued indefinitely. You were waiting for your friend's call, expecting your phone to ring any moment, but what you didn't expect was a knock on the door.

Your mind swam with possibilities, going to the darkest places immediately, thinking they had found you and were here to grab Chan and take him away from you forever. Asher barked at the door threateningly as Chan stood beside you.

"Does anyone else have your address?" he asked.

You thought back to the time you were leaving the city. The only person you trusted the most was your niece. You weren't that much older than her, only a decade since your half-sister was much older than you and had her daughter young. You weren't really on speaking terms with her and were much closer to your niece who was more of a sister to you than your own. You remembered giving her the address to the cabin in case of any emergencies. You looked at Chan and swallowed.

"My niece, it could be my niece but it means that something bad happened." you shivered and the knock came again.

"Let's just open the door." Chan tried to reassure you.

Your hand gripped the handle as Chan stood beside you protectively, Asher on your other side. But when you opened the door, you weren't expecting three figures standing there, all three of them familiar to you.

"Hi, auntie!" your niece chuckled and you stared at her and the two men beside her completely flabbergasted.

"Hyunjin? Seungmin?" Chan gasped in disbelief to which they reacted in shock too.

"Chan? What are you doing here, bro?" Hyunjin laughed, tears of happiness and disbelief brimming in his eyes as Seungmin muttered a silent 'what the fuck?'

"Wait, you're a dolly too!" your niece gasped and you were pinching yourself just to see if this was a dream or not.

"You're just in time. This is insane. Come on in." Chan said with his eyes still wide, rubbing your arm to bring you back into the present.

The phone rang and you jolted, quickly grabbing it and answering it, it was your friend as you expected.

"Did they come get him?" you asked quickly, motioning for everyone to settle down as Asher jumped around them and sniffed them.

"Yes. I did as we planned. Is Chan ready?" she asnwered.

"Oh, he is ready. You should get here as soon as possible."

"Fuck yes!" your friend laughed and you shook your head.

"Uhm, but..." you trailed off and stopped pacing, looking at everyone in the living room, chattering and hugging each other.

"Yes?"

"We have company." you said.

"What company?"

"Someone who can help us a lot." you smiled and she chuckled and gasped the entire time while you explained what just happened.

You just hopped that your plan would work and that doctor Park would pay for all the shit he has caused. But most of all you wanted Chan and the rest of the dolls to be reunited.

It was time for action.

@moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

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My beautiful, beautiful Kc...

I wasn't kidding when I said I'd reread ghost protocol and come back with ✨questionsss ✨lol. But since I don't know how u feel about someone bringing back random sentences from your work, I'll just dump them here another time and you answer if you want to, don't if you don't :) No hard feelings

For now, I hope you can breathe soon :( Sometimes life becomes too much and u feel like everything is piling up on you, but be sure that it will pass, and you’ll be fine again. Fighting! 💪

-💙

My loveeeeee!!!!! I get so hyped when I see you in my inbox ngl, please please drop all the questions you've got whenever you feel like. I wanna reread ghost protocol now 😭 I can answer them to the best of my abilities. Random ones are the best!! Thank you for the motivation tho at the moment so much school shit is piling and I feel so strained. AHHH But I'll be fine. We'll all be fine. FIGHTING 💪💪

I love you.

~kc 💗

#~anonn!!#blue 💙#💙 anon

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

Text

He happy 😭💖

250511 © Shuyichnyia

#stray kids #bang chan #he looks so so happy im gonna dissolve in a puddle of goo

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

Note

Hey babes miss you and your work 💜💜💜hope you're doing good 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Awww 😭 I'm not okay!! Im being loaded with work and projects and I can't even breathe! I miss coming on here and writing too but Im just so occupied in the real world that I can't. Im trying to survive!! But other than that I'm okay. Struggling with writers block, my exam results are around the corner AAAAHHHHHH but I'm truly trying. Thank you for being so concerned, anon. Bless 🙏. I put a little something for y'all to read ig, but I'll try to come back here in one piece

💗😭💗

~kc 💗

Btw....

#~anonn!!#~she talks #like 😭😭😭😭

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

Text

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

Pairing: merman!hyunjin x marinespecialist!afab!reader, fantasy au

Synopsis: meeting a merman at work wasn't on the schedule. neither was having feelings.

Warnings: gore a teeny bit, fantasy fluff, strange sounds and feelings, language barrier, confused feelings, innocent curiosity

A/n: inspired by @ssickmagnolia8's losing my breath for you. If you have extra eyes for errors no you don't . I tried so hard to get out of my writers block 😭 I barely have inspo but my drafts are crazy full 😭

You weren’t raised on fairy tales. You were raised on currents. Your father was a sailor, your mother a coastal ecologist, and the ocean was their god. Family vacations were tidepool cataloging. Bedtime stories were legends about deep-sea creatures that mimicked men but weren’t. But you didn’t believe in monsters—not really. You believed in data. Pressure changes. Temperature shifts. Migration patterns. At seventeen, you watched your mother drown. Not in a storm. Not in a dramatic, cinematic scene. No. Your mother simply walked into the tide, arms wide, eyes blank, whispering something only the water could hear. Her body was never found.

You never went near the shore for five years.

But obsession is the child of grief.

You became a specialist in acoustic telemetry, tracking marine life through sound and signal. You hunted the sea with sonar instead of boats. Your reports were clinical. Clean. Controlled

Still, you pushed forward. You had a name to clear, a memory to honor, and a gut feeling you couldn’t shake. Something was wrong with the ocean.

The SS Kismet was a research vessel outfitted for deep-sea tracking, manned by six specialists and one quietly fraying you. The day was standard. The sun overhead bleached the deck white, waves slapped rhythmically against the hull, and the equipment hummed with numbers and graphs. you stood near the stern, notebook in hand, listening to the low-frequency pings returning from their latest scan.

“Same patterns as last week,” murmured Aaron, the lead sonar tech. “Migration normal. No anomalies.”

You didn’t respond. Her eyes flicked to the live display:

Depth: 145 meters. Movement: Moderate. Bio-signature: 3.4

Everything made sense. That was the problem.

The sea was too quiet. After five hours, the crew packed up. Equipment retracted, samples secured, reports logged. The boat turned back toward shore under a rose-gold sky, and conversation rose around you—light, casual. But you stayed at the edge of the boat, watching the way the water seemed to stretch too long. Like it was holding its breath. They docked by sunset. Seagulls screamed over the marina. Lights from the harbor winked like tired eyes. The others disembarked, laughing, boots hitting wet wood. You trailed behind them… until she saw it.

Far off. Barely visible in the waning light. Something was moving. Not in the water, from the shore. It was tall. Human-shaped, but too fluid. Staggering like its bones didn’t fit right. Its skin—if it had skin—glinted wet like oil on pavement. It moved into the surf, slow and steady. Not fighting the pull. Letting the sea take it back.

You squinted. No one else noticed. You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat clenched. Because the thing paused.

And turned.

And though it had no eyes you could see, you felt it look at you. Right at you.

Your voice cracked in the thick evening air as you called out, “Guys? Hey—HEY!”

But your words dissolved into the wind, carried off with the laughter of the team now too far along the dock. Their boots were on asphalt. Yours were still on splintered planks. Alone.

You cursed under your breath. The figure had disappeared into the surf, but her gut twisted with the knowledge, it was still there. Half-lost in the tide, half-drenched in something darker. Not seaweed. Not shadow. Blood.

Your hand slipped into your gear pouch, fingers wrapping tightly around the hilt of a folding blade. Not large. Not elegant. Just sharp enough to buy you three seconds if things went wrong. And something told you they were about to. The dock faded behind you as you stepped off onto the wet sand, shoes sinking slightly. The air was cooler down here, closer to the sea’s breath. You moved carefully, knees bent, eyes squinting into the low mist as the tide rolled in slow and deliberate like it was trying to lull you.

Then you saw it. He was collapsed at the edge where sea met sand, half-submerged, slumped like a dying god. Not a man. Not entirely.

His body was long, too long. From the waist up, he looked almost human—shoulders broad, chest marked with faint violet ridges that pulsed softly, like gills. His skin was damp, luminous, stretched over lean muscle and speckled with gashes, torn open by jagged coral or perhaps claws of his own kind. But from the waist down…a tail. Not cartoonish or shiny. This was monstrous beauty. Deep, obsidian-blue scales etched with silver patterns like ancient runes. Fins like torn silk fluttered weakly at the edge, trembling with effort. Blood—dark, almost black—pooled beneath him in the sand and hissed quietly when it touched saltwater.

His hair was soaked and tangled, clinging to his sharp cheekbones, framing a face too sculpted to be human. Ethereal. High-boned. Lips split at the corner. Eyes—

Oh God, his eyes. They snapped open at your approach.

Sharp. Slit pupils. The color of storm-lit seawater green and grey and gold all at once.

And then he hissed. Low. Defensive. His lips peeled back just enough to show teeth—sharp, serrated like a predator’s.

You froze, raising your free hand. “Hey—hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

But he didn’t understand. Or didn’t care. His arms pushed against the wet sand, trying to lift himself. A growl reverberated deep in his chest as he whipped his tail, sending a spray of water across your face. The movement tore open a gash along his hip, he let out a strained cry, somewhere between rage and agony, before collapsing back with a choked gasp.

You stepped forward instinctively, breath shallow.

He was shaking. Drenched. Wild. And yet… vulnerable. This was no sea monster.

This was someone. And he was dying. Your heart hammered as you stepped closer, sand slipping under your boots. Your hands were up—one still holding the small knife, the other palm-out, slow, nonthreatening.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you whispered, voice thick with breath. “You’re hurt. I—I can help.”

But he didn’t understand your words. He only saw movement. A human form. Something closer. With a feral grunt, the merman twisted, shoulder muscles flaring, tail slapping the sand in a weak arc. He tried to crawl back toward the surf instinct pulling him to the safety of the ocean, of away. But pain lanced through him again. His shoulder gave out. One of the wounds split wider, the dark ichor spilling fresh and hot.

He cried out, low and guttural, collapsing again with a strangled wince.

You flinched but didn’t move away. Her pulse skipped, but your feet stayed rooted.

You dropped to your knees a few feet from him and carefully pulled your field pack open. Out came a fabric square, military-grade wound wrap, waterproof and heat-reactive. Not exactly meant for mythological sea creatures, but she had to try.

You slid forward. Close enough now to hear the rough sound of his breath—shaky and uneven. “I’m going to touch you now,” she murmured, voice trembling. “Please don’t—don’t freak out.”

He snarled again, a rumble in his throat, but it wasn’t as sharp. More confused than aggressive now. He tracked every movement of your hand with those uncanny eyes. You leaned in, breath soft, and gently pressed the wrap to the gash along his ribs. His skin twitched beneath her touch warm, slick, and… not completely alien. The scales shimmered faintly beneath your fingertips, flexing and fluttering as if responding to her. He hissed again, low and tight. Not from anger this time from pain. But he didn’t strike. Didn’t move away.

The bandage clung instantly, sealed by body heat. You pulled another out and looked at him.

“I can help with the rest,” she said softly, holding the next strip up. “If you let me. If you can… I don’t know, trust me?”

He blinked. Slow. The growling had stopped. His eyes scanned your face, lingered on your lips, your eyes like he was trying to read something in you, some language you weren’t speaking. He shifted, inching forward on trembling arms. His head dipped slightly. One of his fins curled inward. And then—quietly, hesitantly—he leaned toward you.

You sucked in a breath as he drew closer, breath brushing your cheek, cool and wet like fog. His tail slid across the sand with a soft drag. He was allowing it now. Allowing you. His body gave the answer his voice couldn’t. You moved gently, methodically, patching another wound on his side, then his forearm. The gashes were bad—too deep for you to handle on a beach. He needed more. He needed help. But he was still looking at you.

And not like you were a threat anymore. You sat back on your heels, hands trembling just slightly from the cold, the adrenaline, the impossibility of what you was seeing. You’d patched him up best you could with what you had, but they couldn’t stay here. Someone would find them. Your team would come looking. And he… he couldn’t defend himself like this.

You looked down at him, where he was half-curled in the sand. Still bleeding. Breathing hard. “Can you walk?” she muttered aloud, half to herself, her voice barely above the hush of the waves behind them.

You realized how stupid it sounded the second it left your mouth—he had a tail, not legs.

But still, she made the motion with her fingers, as if puppeteering invisible legs. A silly little walking gesture, the way you’d signal to a child. To your absolute disbelief, his eyes followed the motion. His brows furrowed in that elegant, ocean-slick face. He looked at his own tail. Looked at your. Then—

He began to shift.

Slow at first. Painfully. The sound that came from his throat was low and rough, like gravel pulled by the tide. But his body began to change. The fin that had glimmered like black opal under moonlight began to split, crackling, warping, folding in on itself like liquid glass folding into clay. The deep iridescent scales retreated, melting away like dew drying off skin. His tail was gone. In its place: long, pale legs, scarred and sleek. Powerful thighs. Knees bent awkwardly as if unfamiliar. The bruises from earlier still colored his skin. Salt and blood clung to him in places no human anatomy textbook could prepare you for.

Your lips parted, jaw slack. “What the actual—”

He looked up at you, panting. Exhausted. On his hands and knees now, shivering in the wind and the wetness, completely bare and utterly other. But also… human. Or something achingly close. You stumbled to your feet, ditching the knife completely now, and bent to hook an arm under his. “Okay, alright. Come on. I’ve got you.”

He flinched as their skin touched, his reflexes still caught between fight or flight. But this time, he didn’t pull away. He let you help him.

You pulled his arm over your shoulder, feeling the sharp weight of him, every muscle trembling under the strain of transformation. His wet skin pressed against your clothes, soaking through instantly. He leaned heavily on you, and she tightened your grip, breath hitching as he groaned again. They stumbled together across the beach, two shadows limping toward the faint lights of the Marine Center in the distance. You kept your head low, whispering reassurances under your breath, some for him, most for yourself.

“Just a little further, okay? We’re almost there. You’re doing good… god, you’re doing so good.”

You used the back entrance of the Center—you’d done it a hundred times for late data drops, but never with a naked injured merman draped over you like seaweed.

Somehow—by divine panic and dumb luck—they made it across the dark, tiled hallway, up a flight of stairs, and into your tiny staff dorm tucked behind the labs. You kicked the door shut behind them and locked it in one motion.

Inside: warm, quiet, safe.

You turned to him. He was half-collapsed against your twin bed, blinking slowly, skin clammy, lips slightly parted in pain and confusion. So much humanity in his expression. So much… fear. You swallowed hard and dropped beside him.

“I don’t know what the hell you are,” you whispered, brushing hair—still wet, still tangled with seaweed and blood—out of his eyes. “But I’ve got you now.”

You moved quickly now, your brain scrambling to shift from shock to survival mode. You rummaged through the spare shelf under your bed and yanked out a clean, fluffy gray blanket—one you usually used for late night writing sessions or curling up with ocean current charts. Not for covering up the naked sea man bleeding out in your room. You turned back to him, and he was watching you. Dazed. Alert, somehow, but like he was in a completely foreign world his body shivering, his mouth slightly parted, hair clinging to his cheek in stringy wet ribbons.

“Okay,” you breathed, kneeling down. “I’m not gonna look. Promise. Just—just let me…”

You draped the blanket over his hips carefully, gently, shielding his body from view. He flinched at the sudden warmth, but didn’t stop you. His eyes stayed locked to yours.

God. He was beautiful in the kind of way nightmares made you want to stay asleep. His features sharp, yet soft where it mattered, scars across his chest, jaw taut, lashes too dark for someone that alien. That injured. You turned away for a second and grabbed your first aid kit from your bottom drawer. The click of the latch opening echoed like a scream in the quiet room. You pulled out antiseptic, gauze, butterfly stitches, and waterproof medical tape.

“Okay, okay…” you whispered, settling beside him again. your hands hovered over his ribs, hesitant. “You’re not gonna hiss at me again, right?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. You smiled nervously. “Yeah, I didn’t think you understood that.”

Still, you took the silence as permission and began cleaning one of the slashes along his side. He tensed immediately, but didn’t strike or pull back. Just let out a low, shaky sound somewhere between a growl and a breath. His muscles tightened under your fingers.

“Sorry. I know. This probably stings.” He made a small noise in reply. It wasn’t a word, but it wasn’t nothing either. It sounded like… acknowledgment. Like he was trying to echo your tone, mirror her comfort.

“That’s right, okay…” she murmured. “You’ve got a bit of sea glass in here. Jesus, what happened to you?”

No answer. But the way his fingers curled into the edge of the blanket made you think—something bad. Something he couldn’t explain. Or didn’t want to.

“You’re not from here, are you?” you whispered. “God, what am I even asking… Of course you’re not.”

Again, he didn’t respond. But he watched you. With that eerie intensity. You moved to his arm next, patching a shallow puncture wound near his bicep. His skin was oddly soft under your hands. Like velvet soaked in sea salt. And warm. Too warm. “I don’t even know if this stuff works on you,” you muttered as you applied ointment and sealed the wound with gauze. “I mean, for all I know, you could be allergic to—”

Knock knock knock.

You froze.

Three crisp knocks. Familiar. Then a voice.

“Y/N? You in there?” Her heart dropped into her stomach.

It was Maya—from the marine lab downstairs. Always checking in. Always conveniently around when you didn’t want to be disturbed. You turned sharply to the merman and whispered, “Stay quiet. Please, just—don’t move.”

He blinked slowly. Stayed perfectly still.

“Yeah!” you called, scrambling to her feet, trying to sound normal. You stepped toward the door, heart slamming in your chest. “I’m just—uh—getting ready to crash. What’s up?” Maya’s voice was muffled through the wood. “You alright? I didn’t see you with the others after landing. We were gonna go over sonar readings in the morning but—if something’s up—”

“No! No, I’m good,” you replied, too fast. Too bright. “Just tired. You know how the sea gets to me.”

A beat. Then, “Alright. You sure?” You looked over your shoulder. The merman’s eyes were on you. Unmoving. But… calm.

“I’m sure,” you said, softer this time. Another pause. Then footsteps retreating.

You exhaled all at once, sagging against the door. You turned back to him, letting your back slide down the wood until you were sitting again. His head tilted slightly at you, like he understood everything and nothing all at once.

“Okay,” you whispered. “You just became my biggest secret.”

The antiseptic sting was nearly done now—just a few more cleaned cuts and sealed bruises. You moved with careful hands, your breath soft and slow as you finished wrapping a particularly deep laceration just under his collarbone. The moment felt still. Thick. Like the air around them had pressed pause to let something ancient slip in between.

You gently pressed the last bit of gauze in place, smoothing it down with your palm.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you murmured. “That’s a start.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. He was staring. No—focused. Brow furrowed, mouth slightly parted. Not in confusion… in concentration.

“Are you—are you okay?” you asked, softly. “Does anything still hurt?” His lips moved. Just a little. Then again. She paused.

“Wait… did you—did you say something?”

He did it again. This time, slower. And then—barely audible—a whisper, rough like gravel washed up on shore:

“…Hyun…jin…”

You blinked. Your heart skipped.

“You—your name?” you whispered, eyes wide. “Is that your name?”

He gave a weak nod, eyes fluttering as if even that had drained him. “Hyunjin…” she repeated softly, like it was a sacred word. “That’s beautiful. Well, mine’s Y/N.”

His mouth twitched—something like a smirk, but more like relief. Then he tried again, speaking low, gravelly, the syllables pulling against his throat like he wasn’t used to forming them.

“I… learn…”

You leaned in instinctively, every hair on her arm standing on end. Your lips parted, disbelief creasing her brows.

“…your… speak. Lips. Words.”

You sat up a little straighter, realization blooming in your chest like heat. “You’re reading my lips,” you breathed. “You’re trying to talk like me…”

He nodded again. Slow. Exhausted. But committed.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, scrambling to the side table for your small, water-stained notebook and a pencil. You scribbled something down quickly, mouthing the word as you wrote it. “That’s… that’s incredible. You’ve been watching how I talk and trying to mimic it—do you know how hard that is?”

Hyunjin blinked. His shoulders rose and fell, barely able to shrug—but his gaze never left yours. You set the book down and looked back at him, your voice gentler now.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

He blinked. Then glanced toward the floor like he was searching for a word buried in the shadows.

“…dark…” he rasped.

You leaned in, eyes flicking across his lips, helping him find the rest. “Dark?” she echoed. “You were… somewhere dark?”

He nodded. Struggled.

“Chains,” he whispered next, the word thick and ugly in his mouth. “Hurt. Hunt. Run…” Your stomach dropped. The pencil in her hand went still.

“They hunted you?”

His eyes darkened. He nodded once. The memory laced with something almost feral, something wild and buried.You placed a hand on your notebook, the other gently touching his arm.

“I won’t let them find you again,” she said. Firm. Soft, but sure. “You’re safe here, okay? I promise.”

He stared at her. And this time, something deep in his chest shifted. His head tilted forward slightly.

---

The rain had started again—soft, misty, tapping against the dorm window like fingers too shy to knock. You set your kit aside, tucking bandage scraps back into their place, then wiped your hands on the towel draped across her lap. Hyunjin sat propped against the bedframe, now cloaked in the oversized blanket you’d given him earlier, the dark fabric falling over his lap and down his hips, obscuring the freshly formed legs that still trembled when he moved them too quickly.

“You must be starving,” you said, more to yourself than to him as you stood and stretched your arms above your head.

“No.”

You paused. Turned slowly to him, brows slightly raised. He had spoken clearly. Not perfectly. The edges of the word still had a rawness to them, a beginner’s sharpness. But it was unmistakable.

“No?” you repeated, a smile tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, still watching you.

“Okay…” you murmured, moving toward your desk. “I’ll eat something myself, then. You sure you don’t want something? Just a snack? Fish—oh. That might be offensive.”

He didn’t laugh. But you caught the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth. You opened a granola bar instead, taking a quiet bite while flipping through your research journal. But even as you tried to distract yourself with the scribbled notes and observations from that morning’s dive, you felt him watching.

Your gaze slowly lifted. Hyunjin hadn’t moved. Not even a blink. He was staring. Unapologetically. Eyes fixed on you like you were the only real thing in the room. The only solid thread holding him above water. You cleared your throat and looked back down at the pages, pretending not to notice the burn of his gaze.

You turned a page. He was still staring. You tried adjusting the chair. Shifted your posture. Took another bite. Still. Eyes on you.

“I can feel you watching me, you know,” you muttered, not unkindly. You glanced up again. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Hyunjin tilted his head slightly. Like he didn’t understand the question. Like that wasn’t unusual.

You leaned forward on your elbows, eyes narrowing slightly, but your smile stayed.

“I’m not that interesting,” you teased. He nodded.

You blinked. “Wait. You’re saying I am that interesting?” Another slow nod.

And still—his gaze didn’t falter. You bit the inside of her cheek, cheeks heating. “You really are learning fast.”

Hyunjin’s eyes softened a little. As if your amusement pleased him. As if your presence, chaotic and human as it was, brought something to his chest that hurt a little less. You sighed, shutting your notebook and setting it aside. You stood and walked slowly over to him.

He straightened—just slightly. Still weak. Still wrapped in layers of pain. But attentive. You sat at the edge of the bed, cross-legged, and faced him.

“You don’t have to keep staring like I’m going to disappear,” you said quietly. “I’m not.”

He didn’t answer. But the way his eyes dropped—for a moment—to her hands resting in your lap… then slowly lifted back to meet yours…

It said everything.

The room had settled into a gentle quiet. The rain outside had softened to a drizzle, a constant hush against the glass. The kind of lull that made time feel slower, suspended in a fragile bubble of calm. You stood, brushing invisible lint off her shirt before turning to face Hyunjin. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you said, half-expecting no reply. “Don’t touch anything. I mean it. Don’t go poking around or—” you paused, narrowing her eyes, “—biting my electronics.”

Hyunjin blinked up at you from where he sat on the bed, cocooned in the blanket like it was part of him now. His lips moved, just a little—mimicking the shape of your words. But he didn’t speak. You smiled, gave him a little nod, then grabbed your towel, clean clothes, and a small caddy of products before disappearing into the bathroom. The door shut with a click. The soft shuffle of clothing followed, then the metallic hiss of the shower turning on.

At first, Hyunjin did nothing. Just sat there.

But… the sound of the water. The echo of your voice still lingering. The delicate scent of her body wash in the air. It was unfamiliar… intoxicating. And more than anything, his curiosity was gnawing at him. Was she… cleansing her scales?

Like he did in the moonpools beneath the reef?

He shifted his legs off the bed—still new, still foreign. They trembled under his weight, but he managed to stand. A soft grunt left him as he staggered toward the bathroom, one hand trailing along the wall for balance. The floor was cold against his soles. Each step felt uncertain.

He reached the door. Didn’t knock.

Didn’t even think to. The door wasn’t fully shut. Just barely ajar. Enough for him to press a hand against the wood and nudge it open silently. Steam rushed out instantly, curling like seafoam around his feet. The air was thick with warmth and lavender. His dark eyes flicked upward.

And there you were. Silhouetted through the fogged glass of the shower.

Water traced down the length of her body—rivulets running along her shoulders, down her back, catching the curves of her waist. Her hair clung to her skin, dripping. Her skin glowed under the bathroom light, radiant, almost otherworldly.

Hyunjin's breath caught. His heart thudded.

She… she didn’t have scales.

Not visibly.

But your skin—it shimmered slightly in the heat, smooth like moon-polished shells. Unmarked. Unnatural in the way it tugged at something deep in him. Your limbs, the way you moved, the grace—

He wondered, foolishly, if you were like him. A creature hiding among humans. Then you turned. You reached for a small bottle, arm extending, her gaze shifting—right into his. They locked eyes.

Everything froze. Your expression contorted in a split second from relaxed to horrified.

“JESUS—HYUNJIN!”

You fumbled for the shower door, practically slipping in place. “GET OUT!” you shouted, voice bouncing off the tile walls, echoing in his ears. Hyunjin’s eyes widened like he’d just been caught stealing a royal treasure. His cheeks flushed a violent red—deep, warm, crawling all the way to his ears.

“Sorry—sorry—!” he blurted in a mangled rush of syllables, then staggered back, nearly tripping on his own feet as he yanked the door shut behind him.

Thud. A beat of silence. Then the sound of water slapping tile resumed.

Hyunjin stumbled backward into the room, hands clutched over his face. He fell onto the bed like a sack of kelp, groaning softly, curling into himself beneath the blanket.

His heart wouldn’t slow down. You looked like a sea spirit. A siren. A goddess. He buried his face into the pillow and whispered to himself in broken syllables, “She’s not… mermaid? But… so… shining…”

He wasn’t sure what he’d just done. But he was absolutely sure he would never be able to look you in the eyes again without drowning in heat.

The door creaked open slowly, steam billowing out like a slow exhale from a sleeping giant.

You stepped out, wrapped in a thick towel, your damp hair clinging to your shoulders, droplets tracing the slope of your collarbone. You clutched your clothes to your chest with one hand and rubbed the towel dry against your temple with the other. Your skin was flushed from the heat of the water—and maybe a little from what just happened.

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, perfectly still, legs crossed beneath the blanket like a chastised child. His gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, ears beet-red, and his fingers fidgeted with the fabric on his lap.

You raised a brow, then—softened. You tried to keep your expression firm, tried to muster the energy to be mad, but the sheer look of guilt on his face, the nervous way he sat there like a drenched cat in trouble, made your laugh.

“Well,” you said as you padded closer, “if you were trying to sneak up on a woman—you failed miserably.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. He scrambled to shake his head, hands waving in front of him in frantic denial. “No! No sneak—I was… just… see? Curiosity!” His voice was breathy, each syllable clumsy but earnest, like he was still tasting every word for the first time. You tilted your head and crossed her arms. “Right. Curiosity. Sure.” You couldn’t help the smirk curling at your lips. “That what you say to all the girls you spy on in the shower?”

“I didn’t know you were…” Hyunjin gestured wildly at your towel, his cheeks darkening again. “No fins. No… shell armor. Just skin. I think—maybe you were like me.”

You blinked. “You thought I was a mermaid?”

He nodded shyly.

You let out a laugh then light, amused, the tension in your shoulders slipping away. “God. You’re a disaster,” you muttered fondly. “But I get it. You’re new to… all this. Just—next time maybe knock? Or don’t open the door to the sound of running water?”

“Okay,” Hyunjin whispered. Then, with a bit more strength, “Okay. No door. Knock. First.”

“Good,” she smiled, grabbing a long shirt from her dresser and slipping into it over the towel with your back turned. “Now get some rest. You’ve been through a lot, and your wounds are still fresh. You need sleep.”

You turned around again, drying your hair with the towel. That’s when he said it. Softly. Like it had been resting on the edge of his tongue the whole time, unsure whether it should be spoken.

“Beautiful.”

You paused mid-pat. Your arms dropped slightly.

You looked at him.

His head was tilted, his long hair falling across his cheek, still slightly damp. His lips were parted just enough to prove he’d said it on purpose. And those dark, wide eyes still locked on her like you were the most fascinating creature in the entire world.

“I’m… sorry?” you said, a little thrown off her rhythm.

He straightened up a bit, the blanket slipping down his chest. “You are,” he said again, slower this time. “Beautiful.”

There was no stutter. No nervousness. Just sincerity. Your heart did a little stumble in your chest. You blinked again, unsure if you should laugh, thank him, or hide.

“…That’s probably the first compliment I’ve ever gotten from someone who tried to break into my shower.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “Break?” You giggled and waved it off. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

A beat passed. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. But he heard it. And the shy smile that tugged at his lips was brighter than anything you’d seen him wear so far.

“Sleep, merboy,” you said, grabbing a blanket to toss over him. “You’re gonna need all your strength tomorrow.”

He nodded, but his eyes stayed on you just a moment longer before they fluttered shut—content, safe, and still trying to memorize the shape of you.

The soft click of your pen was the only sound filling the room now. You sat at your desk beneath the glow of your small reading lamp, scribbling into your worn leather-bound logbook. Your handwriting flowed like gentle waves as you recounted everything: the field report from earlier that day, the strange movement you’d seen on the shore, and most of all—the merman.

You paused, eyes flicking toward the bed where Hyunjin lay now, blanket pulled loosely around his waist, his breathing deep and even. The soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers curled slightly near his face—it all looked so… human. But you’d seen his tail. You’d seen the shimmer of his scales and the way pain bent his body like a broken current.

He wasn’t human. But somehow, he didn’t feel entirely otherworldly either.

You sighed, placing your pen down and closing the log gently with a satisfying thud. You stared at the bed again, then made your quiet decision.

You grabbed a spare pillow and a folded fleece blanket from the closet, spread it out on the floor beside the bed, and slid down into the makeshift sleeping space. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but you didn’t care. He needed the bed more than you did. And somehow, you liked the idea of being close. Close enough to keep watch.

Sleep took you slowly, like the tide, and you drifted off with the faint sound of the ocean still playing in your head.

---

A loud, unfamiliar clink stirred you awake.

Then another—followed by a slosh. Your brows furrowed, lashes fluttering as you pushed the blanket off your face. The light pouring in from the window told you it was early. But something else reminded you you weren’t alone in the room.

Splash.

Y/N sat up immediately. And then blinked.

“…Hyunjin?”

Your voice was rough with sleep, but the sight before you yanked you into full alertness.

The door to your small bathroom was wide open. Inside, the floor was gleaming with droplets, like a trail of spilled moonlight. And in the middle of your bathtub—full, nearly overflowing with water—sat Hyunjin. He was half-submerged, his elbows propped on the edge of the tub, chin resting on his forearm like a lounging sea prince. His hair was wet again, slicked back to reveal his sharp cheekbones and curious gaze, which locked on yours the moment he heard your voice.

And trailing out of the bathtub—spilling onto the tile floor—was his tail.

It shimmered in the light, the scales shifting colors with every ripple of water: deep ocean blue, obsidian black, hints of silvery green. It flicked lazily now and then, the end curling like a question mark, his fin slightly translucent at the edges.

You stared, eyes wide.

“You… turned back?” you whispered, rising slowly to your feet. “How did you—?”

“I woke. Body… ache,” he said in his soft, careful voice. “Needed water.” He gestured to the bathtub with a small, proud smile. “Tub… good. Like sea. Not same. But… good.”

You looked around. He’d figured out the faucet. The floor was wet, sure—but not flooded. He’d used one of your measuring pitchers to balance the temperature—no idea how he got that down. And here he was. Tail out. Glowing like something carved by the sea gods.

Y/N ran a hand through your hair and groaned with a small laugh. “You… literal fish man. You really filled my tub with your sexy dolphin tail.”

He tilted his head. “Sexy… dolphin?”

“Never mind,” you chuckled, rubbing your temples. “Just—next time, ask. Or at least… splash quieter.”

Hyunjin’s laugh was soft but genuine, almost like bubbles rising to the surface.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, grabbing a towel to mop the floor. “Now we’re both going to smell like salt for the next two weeks.”

He watched you as you moved around, his smile warm. When you glanced back at him, his tail gave a little flick of contentment.

“Tub good,” he said again, like it was the highest compliment.

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “I’ll add that to my log. Merman approves of modern plumbing.”

The bathroom was thick with the scent of saltwater, warm mist curling lazily in the air as sunlight spilled through the cracked window. You stood at the threshold, arms folded loosely across your chest, watching the way Hyunjin’s tail stirred the bathwater like it was second nature.

He looked so at peace there. As if the bathtub, as absurdly small as it was, offered him a sliver of his world again—something familiar. Something that didn’t bleed pain.

You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe. “You look… better.”

Hyunjin opened one eye, gaze drifting up to your face. He blinked slowly, lips curling just slightly at the corners. “Water helps.”

You nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a second. “Yeah, I figured.”

A pause settled. Not awkward—just thick with thought. You stepped closer and sat on the closed toilet lid, knees brushing the side of the tub. Your voice came quieter this time.

“Hyunjin…”

He tilted his head again, curious. “We have to figure out a way to get you back to the ocean.”

At first, there was no reaction.

Then, slowly, his shoulders tensed. The warm contentment in his gaze flickered, lips parting just slightly in confusion—or hesitation.

“I mean,” you rushed gently, “you can’t stay in my dorm forever. As much as I’m enjoying the company of a bathtub-dwelling sea prince, I don’t think my RA will approve.”

He gave a breath of a laugh, but it was hollow. He dropped his gaze to the water, scales catching in the light. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The water lapped quietly against the porcelain. When he finally did respond, it was soft. Barely a whisper.

“Not… ready.”

Your heart ached at that.

“Is it because of what happened?” you asked gently, reaching out to rest your hand on the edge of the tub near his own. “Are you scared to go back?”

He looked at your then, really looked eyes dark like the deep, searching for something in your expression. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Struggled with the words.

Then, carefully, he said, “Scared… of alone.”

The silence that followed hit like a wave crashing the shoreline.

You blinked, your chest tightening. You hadn’t expected that. Not from a being who came from an entire world beneath the surface. But now… now he was stranded in yours. And he didn’t want to be alone in either.

“You’re not alone,” you whispered.

He nodded slowly, as if he wanted to believe you. His hand brushed yours, just barely like the kiss of tide on a docked boat. You squeezed it gently. “We’ll find a way to get you back home. Together.” Hyunjin exhaled through his nose, his tail flicking once like a nod of agreement. Then he looked at you again, lips twitching into something soft and shy. But when you glanced up, his expression wasn’t dreamy anymore.

It was far away. Cold. Haunted. You lowered her voice. “Hyunjin?” He blinked once, then slowly met your gaze.

“I remember,” he whispered.

Your heart stumbled in her chest. “You remember what?” He hesitated—like dragging words up from the deep cost him something.

“The cages,” he said softly, and your breath hitched.

He looked down at the water, hands gripping the edges of the tub, knuckles pale. “They came. On boats. Bigger than yours. With hooks that burned. With nets that… screamed.”

You felt your throat close. He wasn’t just recounting—he was reliving.

“They pulled us out. My family… my brothers… We didn’t understand. We tried to speak. They laughed.” His jaw trembled. “They cut us open. Not to eat. Not for anger. Just… to look.”

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, moving closer, your hand brushing his arm gently.

His tail shifted beneath the surface like a restless tide, voice shaking. “They said we were myths. That we shouldn’t exist. But we did. We lived. We danced. We sang under the moon.” He paused, a tremor rushing through his body. “And now… they are gone.”

You sat in silence, the ache in your chest thick and rising. Your fingertips curled into the towel on your lap.

“All of them?” you asked softly. His eyes slowly lifted to yours, endless, broken.

“I’m the last.”

The room went quiet. No ocean, no gulls, no passing footsteps. Just the sound of a tub barely large enough to hold grief this deep. You reached for him. Not out of pity—but reverence. Your hand slid over his, grounding. held him like you weren’t afraid of the saltwater or the sorrow or the truth that he carried in his bones.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, and you meant it with your whole being. “You shouldn’t have to carry that.”

“I don’t want to forget them,” he said.

“Then we won’t let them be forgotten,” you replied, tears burning the edges of your voice. “Tell me everything. Their names. The songs. The dances. I’ll write them all. I’ll remember with you.”

His lips parted, chest rising unevenly. Then, slowly, he gave a tiny nod—his hand tightening over yours.

He didn’t thank her with words. He didn’t need to.

Because when you’re the last echo of an entire people, the quiet presence of someone who sees you… is the loudest mercy of all.

---

The morning had unraveled gently around them, filled with soft conversation and the occasional sound of water lapping against porcelain. Hyunjin had calmed, though shadows still lingered beneath his eyes. You were crouched in front of your closet now, pulling out a simple change of clothes—comfortable sweats and a hoodie that would look oversized even on you, let alone on him.

You placed them on the edge of the bed beside a small plate of fruits and crackers. “This should keep you a little full,” you said, giving him a soft look, “I know you said you weren’t hungry, but… in case your stomach changes its mind.”

Hyunjin was sitting on the bed, towel-dried hair falling messily over his collarbones, legs tucked up to his chest like he still wasn’t quite used to them. His tail had faded with the morning light, and in its place were long, lean limbs that still trembled slightly with every shift of movement. But he was healing. Slowly. Carefully.

“I have to go… just for a few hours,” you murmured, grabbing your ID badge and stuffing it into the front pocket of your hoodie.

He looked up fast, eyes wide and sharp. “Go?” His voice was raspy, like the word didn’t sit right in his throat. “Now?”

You smiled gently, walking over to sit beside him. “I don’t want to, trust me. But if I don’t show up, they’ll come looking. And I really don’t want them knocking on this door and finding you trying to nap in the tub.” He tilted his head, visibly uncomfortable. His fingers flexed at his sides like he didn’t quite know what to say—but his eyes said it all. Stay. Please.

“I’ll be back,” you reassured him, brushing a strand of damp hair behind his ear, “I promise. I just need to clock in, finish some reports, act like I didn’t rescue a literal myth from the shoreline last night, and then I’m yours again. Sound fair?”

He didn’t answer right away, but his shoulders slumped, the tension bleeding out with a quiet exhale. “I don’t… like it.”

Your heart pulled. “I know.”

“Danger,” he murmured, voice low. “Land is… danger.”

“I’ve survived it this long,” you smiled, though it was sad around the edges. “But thank you for caring.”

Then, you stood, walking to your desk to grab a notepad and scribbled something down. Walking back, you handed it to him.

“If anyone knocks—anyone at all—you go into the bathroom, lock the door, and don’t make a sound. There’s a towel in the cabinet and a curtain you can pull over the tub. Got it?”

Hyunjin studied the paper like it was sacred. Then, nodding slowly, he whispered, “Hide.”

“Good boy,” you grinned, ruffling his hair gently. He blushed hard—cheeks blooming red under his damp skin—but he looked pleased.

You leaned down, grabbed a soft knit blanket from the end of the bed, and draped it over his lap. “Just rest. Try on the clothes if you’re comfortable. Explore. Don’t break anything. And don’t open the door, even if someone says my name.”

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed like he wanted to say more—but instead, he reached out slowly and brushed your pinky with his, like he was trying to hold on to you in the smallest way he knew how.

You looked at him, then gently squeezed his hand. “I’ll be back before sunset.”

As you turned to go, bag slung over your shoulder and heart heavy in your chest, you heard him say softly behind you—

“Y/N?”

You turned. “You smell like the ocean.” A faint smile pulled at his lips. “I think that’s why I trust you.”

Your throat went tight. You didn’t know how to respond. So, you slipped out the door, locking it behind you.

---

The sun was sharp overhead, glinting off the glass walls of the Marine Research Center as Y/N swiped her badge through the scanner. The soft beep welcomed her back to the real world—where mythical creatures didn’t exist, and last night’s discovery would’ve landed her in a padded room if she ever breathed a word of it.

She plastered on a neutral smile as she passed the lobby, offering a quick wave to her supervisor, Dr. Malia, who was already deep in conversation with another researcher over a cup of instant coffee.

“Y/N, you’re just in time,” Malia called over, barely glancing up from her tablet. “Need you in Lab 3—readings from yesterday’s dive are showing some unusual activity along the southern ridge.”

Y/N nodded politely, her voice calm. “On it.”

She moved quickly, weaving past teams in wetsuits, interns in scrubs, and walls lined with aquatic maps. But her thoughts were miles away—in a warm dorm room with closed blinds, behind a locked door, where a water-dwelling boy was hopefully still curled up on the bed.

She exhaled through her nose, trying to focus. Inside Lab 3, the familiar hum of machines and the smell of sea salt clung to the air. The monitors flickered with sonar readings and temperature charts, but the moment she saw the movement spikes from the southern ridge, her heart skipped.

That’s where she found him.

The readings pulsed—faint tremors of large movement—but they were irregular, like something had been moving there for a while and suddenly stopped. No wonder the team wanted it flagged. If only they knew.

She sat down at her console, running diagnostics. Her fingers moved, but her mind kept drifting. To Hyunjin's voice, unsure but velvet-smooth. “You good?” a voice asked, breaking through her daze.

She blinked. It was Lani, one of her coworkers, tilting her head curiously as she leaned on the desk beside her. “You seem… somewhere else.”

Y/N forced a soft laugh. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Lani narrowed her eyes teasingly. “Didn’t sleep much or didn’t sleep?”

“Oh my God, not like that,” Y/N scoffed, cheeks warming way too quickly. “I just… got caught up with notes. You know me and my midnight logs.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lani smirked, clearly not buying it. “Well, just don’t die on me before lunch. You owe me ramen.” Y/N waved her off with a small chuckle as the screen lit up again with another pulse. Her heart jumped, but she masked it under a yawn.

She needed to finish up these reports, make an excuse to head back early, and double-check that Hyunjin hadn’t started opening windows or something.

---

The walk back from the Marine Center was a blur. You had shoved your reports into your bag, mumbled something about needing to rest, and practically sprinted the last two blocks to your dorm with a plastic bag swinging at your side—filled with warm rice bowls, fresh fruit, and the kind of seaweed snacks you figured a merman might vibe with. Your key fumbled in the lock for a second—your heart already racing ahead of your hands.

Click.

You swung the door open—

—and the world softened.

There he was. Hyunjin was sprawled lazily across your bed, legs tangled in the sheets, water clinging to the tips of his constantly-damp hair as it curled messily around his face. You’d have to figure out where the heck the water came from. He was hunched over the tiny wooden chess set you kept on your shelf for decoration, eyes narrowed in fascination as he moved a knight and immediately tried to counter it with a bishop—against himself. Like he was having a full-on strategic war solo.

He looked up the moment the door creaked open. His eyes lit up like sunrise on open water.

And then he chirped—a soft, echoing, melodic sound that rippled from his throat and filled the room like a song sung underwater. It was strange and beautiful, rising and falling like a tide, and loud enough to startle you into stillness.

You blinked.

“…What was that?” you asked through a surprised laugh, dropping the bag onto your desk. “Was that—was that a hello?”

Hyunjin’s lips curled into the most angelic, boyish smile as he sat up straighter, fingers still ghosting over a rook. “It means…” He touched his chest, then motioned towards yours, and looked you in the eye. “Warm return.”

Your breath caught. “You mean like... welcome back?” He nodded, then shyly added, “But more.”

You didn’t know what to do with that for a second, heart thudding stupidly hard. “Well… warm return to you too, I guess,” you teased, brushing your hair back and walking over to him. “I brought food.”

Hyunjin tilted his head, sniffing the air like a curious cat. “It smells… green.”

“It’s seaweed,” you grinned. “And rice, and a few other things that won’t kill your stomach. I promise.” He took the bag from your hands slowly, reverently, like it was a gift from a goddess. You handed him chopsticks, and he stared at them like they were mini swords.

You sat beside him, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “So… how was your day, Fish Prince?”

“Strange,” he said after chewing thoughtfully. “The mirror makes my face look upside down if I bend over it. And the blanket trap is warm.” You snorted. “It’s called tucking yourself in. And you’re supposed to sleep under it, not roll into a sushi burrito.”

Hyunjin mimicked “sushi burrito” to himself and giggled behind the rice bowl. Your chest bloomed at the sound.

Once he’d eaten his fill, you leaned back against the headboard, pulling one leg up and chewing your lip.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said softly, eyes flicking to him. “We… we can’t keep you here forever. You need to get back to the ocean. I know where. Quiet, but… it’ll be hard, but I think I can get you there soon. It’s just—people might be watching the coast. We’ll need to be careful.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened slightly with understanding. “Return?” he asked, voice gentler.

You nodded. He looked down at his hands, curling his fingers in thought. Then he whispered, “I trust you.”

You reached over and brushed a bit of rice off his cheek. “Then we better make a plan.”

You sat cross-legged on the bed, notepad in hand, your brows furrowed as you sketched out a rough timeline. A coastal tide map was open beside you, and your pencil tapped restlessly against the paper.

“We’ll need to leave before dawn,” you murmured, half to yourself, half to the echo of the plan forming in your head. “Maybe tonight. I can grab wetsuits, maybe—”

You felt it again. That unrelenting gaze. Without even looking up, you sighed through a soft laugh. “Hyunjin… I’ve warned you about staring.” His voice came slow, curious, like he was rolling the words on his tongue. “But you’re… beautiful when you think. Your eyes talk.”

That made you blink up at him. He was sitting at the foot of the bed now, curled in the blanket he refused to let go of, legs drawn up like a question mark, hair falling in soft curtains around his face. His eyes were impossibly focused—on your lips, your cheeks, your very being.

“Humans…” he started slowly, “How do they show… when they love?”

You tilted her head. “Love?”

He nodded, a gentle seriousness washing over his face. “Like… like how I feel when you smile. Or when you came back, and I thought the room had air again.”

You didn’t speak for a second. Your heart was stuttering, and your mouth had gone dry.

“Well…” you said, voice a bit shaky but trying to sound casual. “We hug. We hold hands. We kiss. We say things—sometimes silly, sometimes deep. It depends.”

Hyunjin listened like a student before a sacred text. “And what does a kiss mean?” You looked at him then. Really looked. “It means… I see you. I trust you. It’s… a kind of giving. A promise. Sometimes it’s just fun. Sometimes it’s everything.”

There was a pause. A silence soaked in something heavy and gentle.

Then—

“In my world,” Hyunjin said softly, “We sing in pairs. The song is just for the one we love. It never sounds the same with anyone else. And we dance, too. Not with our feet… but with the way we move through the water together. Like… like we’re breathing in the same rhythm.”

You smiled, heart tightening. “That’s beautiful,” you whispered.

He studied you for another long beat. “Can I… try it?” he asked. “Your way. The human way.”

You blinked, startled. “You… you want to kiss me?” He nodded, slow but sure. “I think I love you,” he said simply. “And I want you to know. I want to speak it in your language.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to tell him that you both were nothing close to a relationship, but your breath caught somewhere in your throat—and he moved forward, leaning in with a hesitancy that felt sacred. Like he was approaching a sunrise.

His fingers brushed your cheek, light as a question. His gaze dipped to your lips.

And then—

He kissed you. You were beginning to think he’d seen other people do this for him to know what to do. A couple by the sea, workers on deck sneaking around. It was soft at first—like he was learning her shape. Testing how their worlds aligned at the edges. His lips were warm, gentle, tasting of salt and curiosity. He lingered for a breath, then another, before pulling back just slightly… and resting his forehead against hers.

You hadn’t moved. Couldn’t move.

He whispered, “Did I do it right?”

You let out a breathless laugh, eyes closing. “You did…it? I guess…”

Your fingers hovered near your lips, the ghost of his kiss still blooming like an aftertaste. Hyunjin was watching you again—his eyes wide, waiting, like he wasn’t sure if he’d crossed a line or unlocked a door. “That was…” you cleared your throat, heart thudding as she tried to find her voice. “Really good for a first time. But um… kissing has a bit of a rhythm to it. Like your songs, remember?”

He tilted his head. “Like a… duet?”

You smiled despite herself. “Exactly.” He leaned forward again, a little too eager, and you giggled, pushing him back gently. “Okay, no pouncing. Let’s take this slow. Follow my lead.”

You shifted closer on the bed, cupping his face softly. His cheeks were so warm under your touch. “When we kiss,” you whispered, “don’t just press in. Feel it. Think of it like… listening with your lips.” He nodded once, completely enthralled. Why were you doing this? You’re teaching a merman how to kiss? Not like he’s going to need it in the future or anything. Your noses brushed, breaths mingling—and then you kissed him again.

This time, it was slower. Softer. Your lips met in a careful rhythm, Hyunjin mimicking your movements like a dancer finally learning the steps. He let out the smallest sound—something between a hum and a purr, low and delicate, and so intimate it sent a shock down your spine.

Your body tensed involuntarily.

That sound. It curled around your spine like heat. It wasn't just affectionate—it was sensual, primal in a way he likely didn’t even understand. You gasped, pulling back suddenly, your eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

Hyunjin blinked, confused. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, no—” you laughed nervously, waving your hands, desperate to cool your face and your hormones. “That was… you’re doing great. You’re… a very fast learner.”

He beamed. “So, we kiss more now?”

“Absolutely not!” you squeaked, scrambling for your notepad like it was a lifeline. “We’re gonna focus on the plan, okay? The plan. The whole get-you-back-to-the-ocean thing. Remember that?”

Hyunjin pouted, flopping back onto the mattress, watching you with lidded eyes and a pout that was frankly unfair. You kept your gaze firmly on your scribbles.

“Okay,” you muttered to herself, “tonight tops, avoid the main marine patrol routes, smuggle you through the south dock…”

“I like kissing,” Hyunjin said helpfully behind you.

“Hyunjin,” you warned, voice tight.

“Yes?”

“Please. Let me focus.”

“Okay,” he said sweetly. “But after?”

You buried your face in your hands.

God help you. You were going to need a stronger distraction than a map and a marker.

---

The cold air bit at Y/N’s skin as she tightened her hoodie around her body, footsteps soft against the gravel path leading away from her dorm. Midnight painted everything in shadows and silver light. The marine center’s lab lights were off for the night, save for the emergency glow that hummed faintly near the edges of the supply shed.

Clutching a small bag and her keycard, Y/N glanced over her shoulder once more. Every step away from Hyunjin made her chest tighten, like some part of her knew he was still watching her from that tub, curled in warmth, eyes glowing in moonlight.

She just needed supplies. Just gauze, saline, maybe a blanket or two. Nothing traceable. Nothing suspicious. She’d just swiped her card through the lock when—

“Y/N?”

She flinched like a thief, spinning fast. A flashlight flicked on, landing on her face. Oh crap.

“Layla?” she blurted, blinking against the light.

Layla—a fellow researcher and one of her dorm neighbors—lowered the flashlight, brows raised, dark hair tied up in a sleepy bun. She was in sweatpants and a coat, holding a mug of tea like she’d only just come out for air.

“What are you doing out here? It’s almost 1 AM.”

Y/N froze. Her mind raced. Say something normal. Say something smart.

“Oh! Uh… I forgot I left my sketchbook in the lab,” she lied quickly, offering a sheepish grin. “Needed it for some ideas I had about tide cycles.” Layla tilted her head. “You’re sketching tide cycles? At midnight?” Y/N laughed nervously, cringing internally. “You know me. I get randomly inspired. Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d be productive.”

There was a long beat. Layla sipped her tea slowly, watching her. “…You okay though? You look kind of… flushed.”

“Flushed?” Y/N swallowed. Was she still red from the kissing? Oh God. “Probably just the chill. I was in bed and didn’t think I’d be out long.”

“Hmm.” Layla nodded, then smiled, yawning. “Well, don’t stay out too long. If Dr. Malia catches you raiding the supply kit again, she’ll have a fit.”

“Noted,” Y/N said, exhaling as her friend turned to head back to the dorm. Y/N waited until she disappeared from sight before slipping into the shed. Her fingers were shaking—part nerves, part adrenaline.

She gathered what she needed in under five minutes: more gauze, protein bars, wet cloths, a heating pad. As she stuffed the supplies into her bag, her heart thrummed like a drumbeat in her ears.

Not from fear. From urgency. Hyunjin needed to go back. And soon.

Because the longer he stayed…the harder it was going to be to let him go.

Y/N’s hand hovered above Hyunjin’s shoulder, hesitant to wake him. He looked peaceful in her bed, for once. The soft light of dawn hadn’t broken yet—only a bluish tint stretched across the room, casting shadows on his long limbs tangled in the blanket. His hair was damp against the pillow, tail gone now, legs stretched awkwardly, human again—but still otherworldly.

She knelt beside him and gently touched his shoulder. “Hyunjin,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Wake up. It’s time.” He stirred immediately, blinking hazily. When he saw her face, something in his gaze shifted—alert now. He sat up, brows furrowing. No questions. He trusted her.

She offered a towel and a pair of her loose marine trousers. “Dry off. You’ll need these,” she murmured, glancing at the door.

Hyunjin obeyed, fumbling with the fabric but managing to wrap the towel around his waist and slide the pants on, even if a bit clumsily. His legs were stronger now, steadier. She helped him with the drawstring, their fingers brushing—brief, electric.

They moved like ghosts through the building—silent, invisible. Y/N led them down the emergency stairwell, the soles of their feet brushing the cold tile, their breaths caught in their throats. Every creak of a door sounded like a shout. She held her breath when they passed the night guard’s office, her hand clutching Hyunjin’s tight.

He looked at her like she was leading him to the stars. Once they hit the back doors, Y/N paused, peering through the narrow glass pane. The coast behind the center was calm, the water like ink under the faintest touch of moonlight.

“Now,” she whispered, and they slipped out.

The small boat was waiting—an old rowboat with a modest engine, one she’d repaired herself last year during maintenance season. Hyunjin stepped into the shallows with careful feet, his balance off but improving. She helped him in, her hands steadying his arms.

He sat on the edge of the bench seat, watching her like she was a miracle in motion. Y/N climbed in behind him, heart thundering, hands quickly working over the ignition. The soft whirr-click of the engine starting filled the air.

They were moving.

The boat glided over the glassy water, away from the shore, away from the dorm, the marine center, the human world—just the two of them under the sliver of a moon. Wind tugged at her hair. Salt kissed her lips. Hyunjin was quiet beside her, eyes wide as he watched the horizon.

Y/N gripped the steering handle, jaw set.

This was it. No turning back now.

The boat rocked gently under the hush of the very early morning sky, the sound of soft waves licking against the sides blending with the distant hum of the world still asleep.

Y/N had steered them just far enough—beyond the line where marine patrols might sweep through, but close enough that she could come up with a believable excuse if someone questioned her presence.

“We’re not far,” she muttered, cutting the engine so they drifted in silence now. “This should be okay, but I still have to think of what I’ll tell them—God, maybe I’ll say I came out to chart the tides or observe plankton migration. No, that sounds stupid—ugh, maybe I can say I dropped something, like a waterproof recorder—do I even own a waterproof recorder?”

She kept talking, eyes darting around, hands nervously adjusting the rope tied to the oar, the bag at her feet, anything to keep from looking at him.

“You have to go now,” she said, finally turning. “We don’t have time, and if they find me out here with you—”

Her voice faltered when her eyes met his.

Hyunjin wasn’t moving. He wasn’t scrambling to dive in, or panicking. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, watching her with those impossibly soft eyes—dark, vast, unreadable, like the very ocean they sat on. His gaze held her steady, like he was anchoring her to this moment.

She swallowed hard.

“You have to hurry,” she tried again, forcing the words through the tightness in her throat. She looked away, blinking fast. “Please. Before someone sees.”

But her voice betrayed her—too brittle. Her hand tightened around the edge of the boat, nails digging into the old wood. She couldn’t let herself feel this. They haven’t even spent a week together and she felt like it’d been a year already. It was probably the kiss.

Not now.

Not when he was looking at her like that. Like she was home. Hyunjin tilted his head slightly, the sea breeze playing with the strands of damp hair framing his face. He reached out gently, not touching her yet—just hovering his fingers near hers.

Still, he said nothing.

He didn’t have to. The boat drifted in a hush, the world wrapped in that soft pre-dawn blue that made everything feel suspended in time.

Hyunjin stood barefoot on the edge of the boat, trousers abandoned in a loose heap beside him. His tail shimmered into view under the moonlight—pearlescent blues and silvers catching the glow like he was carved from the ocean itself. Water dripped from his skin, running down the length of his scales in lazy trails, and yet… he hesitated.

He looked back at you.

You stood there, arms crossed like you were trying to hold yourself together, chin tilted up in some desperate attempt at bravery—but your eyes were glassy, your throat tight. What was wrong with you?

“You need to go,” you said softly, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “Now, Hyunjin.”

But you didn’t sound convincing. Not even to yourself. And maybe he sensed it.

Because he didn’t jump. He turned to you fully, sitting on the boat’s edge, and leaned in. His hand cupped your cheek so tenderly it undid the dam you were trying so hard to hold up and before you could even breathe, he kissed you.

It was soft, warm, filled with something far more permanent than either of them had planned for. He pulled back an inch, just enough to see your stunned face.

And then he kissed your again—deeper this time, like he wanted to remember what you tasted like. When you finally pulled apart, you gave a breathless laugh, blinking through the tears brimming in your lashes.

“You’re getting better,” you whispered, brushing your fingers down his jaw. “Every time.”

Your smile faded. “But you seriously have to go now. Before it’s too late.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, to stay just one more second, to soak you in a little longer. Before you could counter your actions, you gently pushed his shoulder.

“Go,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Please.”

He let himself fall backwards into the sea with a graceful splash, tail flicking in one final arc.

You didn’t waste time. She threw a decoy box—full of ocean samples, broken equipment, anything you could gather last minute—into the water. It hit the surface right as a voice called out behind her.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing out here?” It was your manager.

You snapped your head toward the shore. “Oh—hey! Sorry! I dropped a specimen container during a test dive last night. I came back to look for it before the tide took it.”

The manager frowned, clearly annoyed but unconvinced enough to challenge you. “At this hour?”

You forced a tired laugh. “I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get it done now before the boats start moving.” He gave a grumble of approval and walked away without another word. You turned back to the sea, breath caught in her throat.

The surface rippled gently… and there he was. Just beneath the water, Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed in the dark. He looked at her with that same softness from before. One last goodbye.

Then, as if the ocean itself responded to his emotions, he let out a sound—not a word, not a call. Just a song. A pulse of something deep and ancient and mournful that rippled across the water like a shiver.

It hit her like a memory she never had, aching in her chest.

Her tears finally slipped free.

Just a few. But enough.

“Goodbye,” she whispered.

I hope it's okay I'm getting better ideas I promise 🙏

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~kc 💗

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #straykids #bystay #hyunjin #~kc's 💗#hyunjin scenarios #stray kids hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyune

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furioussheepluminary · 1 month ago

Text

😭😭😭👏👏👏

SPECTRUM — [18+!]

PT. 25 [final] of I LIKE IT — an interactive series

“Let’s play your favourite game together.”

🎁 You finally found your place in life and enjoy doing what you love. So when you first fashion collection is finally published, your boyfriends decide to reward you for all the hard work by playing your favourite game—they’re taking turns and you have to guess who’s inside you. A correct answer means praise, a wrong answer leads to punishment.

❕ [READ CAREFULLY] You, Y/N, are actually part of this story and the one who makes the decision which will have an impact on the following chapters. Simply choose the option at the end of this post that you think fits best and follow the path!

📷 CONTENT INFO: chan, minho, jisung x afab reader, angst/fluff/smut, camgirl au, camgirl!reader, camboy!chan, childhood friend chan, enemy minho, friend jisung, perv!jisung, and they were all roommates

📕WORD COUNT: 3K [or ~9K if you read all the options]

🔥CONTENT WARNING: explicit content [includes dom/sub dynamics, oral (f rec), piv, blindfolding and reader has to guess who’s inside her, edging/overstimulation depending on your options, use of toys, spanking, choking, use of handcuffs, use of ropes, use of princess, angel, daddy and sir ], perv!jisung comeback!

❤️AUTHOR’S NOTE: it is finally here. once again, thank you @ everyone who has shown kind support and such amazing love during this series. it has taken me a lot longer than I've planned to but we've managed it! I love you and let me know who you ended up with ;)

GOOGLE FORM FOR REQUESTING CONTENT ⭐️

BINGO SHEETS 📄 → participate and share your results via reblog! I’d appreciate it 🤭

the beautiful dividers are from @strangergraphics ✨

A fresh breeze of spring is entering your nostrils, the scents of flowers and strawberries surrounding you. You do your best to be as quiet as possible, when you get inside your apartment. Your boyfriend’s aren’t good at hiding surprises—well, to be clear, it’s Jisung who’s the problem here—so you’ve already been expecting a grand gesture for when you get home.

They’re proud of you. And you’re proud of yourself too. Today you’re launching your first ever collection of your brand—focusing on both lingerie pieces and jewellery, you finally found something that brings you joy. The items have a bit of variety but similar details to them—red, black and grey tones combined with glittering starry patterns, remind you of how far you’ve come with you achievements.

And that’s what you’re gonna celebrate today. The four of you. Your boyfriends obviously prepared a surprise party for you, with all your favourite foods and snacks, promising to treat you well and give all their attention to you tonight.

As you take off your shoes, it’s still quiet around. So you decide to check your phone for any messages. Neither of the three have texted you, but you’ve received something from three other people:

[Changbin 🫶🏻]: Congrats darling!!! I��m so proud of you. Gonna order right away!! I hope you’re proud of your achievements too?

Then a text follows from your boss from your part time job. You’re glad you found such a calm and safe space as your new side hustle.

[Thanh]: Hey, Y/N. Just saw the new pieces. They look amazing. Congrats!! 🥹

You know that she means it. Your boss is the sweetest person on this earth. When she found out you were gonna plan to publish a brand of your own, she even encouraged you, not viewing you as a potential threat for her spotlight. Your ideas vary greatly from hers anyway.

Then of course there are the texts your best friend left you.

[Cece 🫂]: BABYYYYY PREPARE FOR ME TO BUY ALL THE PIECES OKAY!!! OMW TO CRASH THE WHOLE WEBSITE 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[Cece 🫂]: I’m proud of you. So proud of you, I’m crying in public again. And the fact that you’re donating 25% of the money you make with your project? You’re a superhero. ❤️

You can’t help but smile, brushing away a single tear that’s rolling down your cheek.

[Jeongin 🏡]: I just saw the collection, Y/N. They look even better than when you showed me the drafts! You can be proud of yourself 😊 Good luck! 🍀

Your neighbour has helped you a lot with reviewing your pieces, since he’s working in the fashion industry too. You’re forever grateful for this.

“Baby?” a male voice asks, his head peeking out of the living room. “You’re home early… we have a… surprise for you.”

You chuckle, walking towards him, as you wrap your arms around Minho’s shoulders.

“Jisung told you, didn’t he?” your boyfriend asks.

You giggle again, “Not exactly. But he didn’t try to hide it either.”

“Jisung!” Minho shouts, turning around.

“Sorry, Sir,” he replies, before he walks to you as well. “Congrats, angel. So well done.” Jisung places a soft kiss on your forehead, tears in his eyes.

“We’re proud of you,” he whispers. “Are we gonna see you wearing those pieces tonight?”

“I guess you’ll figure it out, hm?” you ask, clicking your tongue. Of course you’re wearing something from your collection underneath.

“Baby,” Chan starts, as he enters the room, “congrats to your huge achievement. We’re so proud of you.”

He pulls you away, wanting you all to himself for a second, as he almost crashes you with his embrace. Hungry pecks all over your cheeks and neck follow, when he can’t stop showing you how happy he is.

“Thank you all for always helping me and being there for me,” you tell them, trying to free yourself from his grip, as you giggle.

Chan stops, one last kiss erupting on your mouth this time. “Of course, we wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

You smile, before you turn around. “So, what’s the plan?”

—

After a dinner of all your favourite dishes and drinks combined, the four of you are cuddling on the couch, talking a little. It’s so peaceful. You reminisce all the work you’ve put into your creative ideas and also your relationship that have led to this outcome. All the decisions you made, all the mistakes you’ve been through, all the obstacles you conquered—just to be here today. You’re utterly proud of yourself.

“We have another surprise for you,” Chan suddenly announces, ripping you out of your inner main character monologue.

“Yeah? What is it?” you ask, turning towards him. You’re currently sandwiched between Minho and Jisung, as the oldest is sitting next to the youngest.

“Let’s play your favourite game together,” he suggests.

Your eyes instantly widen. This feels like your birthday and all your favourite holidays combined. “Really?”

“Really, pretty,” Minho speaks from your other side. His hand reaches for your chin, tilting your head towards him. “You wanna go through the rules again?”

The rules are pretty easy. The first round consists of you making a decision between three options. Then you get blindfolded, spun around a few times and brought to one of their bedrooms.

Sometimes you can already figure out where you are—judging from the softness of their mattress or the pillows and blankets lying around that you will grip onto, once the mysterious man goes down on you. During this stage, he’s allowed to talk and praise you, his voice giving away his identity, as his tongue pleases you.

When you come, you usually already drench the sheets, as the two others are waiting for you. They let you calm down for a bit, catch your breath as you grow equally impatient and hungry for more.

Then the second stage follows. You’re still blindfolded and they’re gonna take turns, filling you up with their cocks one after another. Whenever you get to guess correctly who’s inside you, you’ll receive praise. For every wrong answer you’re gonna get punished. As easy as it is.

God, the sole thought about this game makes that sensation appear in your lower stomach rather quickly.

“I think I’m familiar. It’s my favourite after all,” you chuckle.

“So, go choose one of these desserts.”

You’re presented with options—matcha tiramisu with vanilla crumble, a caramelised hot cherry pie and strawberry-kiwi gelato with chocolate syrup. Which one will you pick?

GOOGLE FORM FOR REQUESTING CONTENT ⭐️

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furioussheepluminary · 2 months ago

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𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐰𝐧

Pairing: richkid!felix x richkid!afab!reader, established relationship, non idol au,

Synopsis: the night after your graduation, you and Felix spend some time together. But wealth comes with a price and he's willing to fight for you.

Warnings: suggestive, angst, comfort, Felix swears

A/n: if you have extra eyes for errors no you don't

You were the kind of girl who turned heads and left whispers in her wake. Not because you tried but because everything about you screamed unreachable. Daddy’s favorite. Expensive perfume. Lips that looked like secrets. You and Felix had ruled your private school like royalty—matching designer uniforms, eyes only for each other, and enough tension to make people look away out of respect. Both of you came from families who had money longer than most people had family trees. Mansions with echoing halls, old paintings, and staff who knew to knock once, then disappear. But while your parents believed in power dinners and pearls, Felix’s family dripped in chaos and generational wealth wrapped in leather and fast cars. He was the black sheep with platinum blonde hair, a jawline you could cut a diamond on, and the kind of smirk that made rules feel like suggestions.

And tonight? The rules didn’t exist.

8:42 PM.

The text came in while you were still glossing your lips.

Felix💕 : They just left. Pool’s heated. Door’s open.

Felix💕 : Bring that blue set. You know the one I like.

Felix💕: But lose it before you get in the water.

And a devil emoji.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your mouth. You slipped into that tiny electric blue bikini that wasn’t even technically legal and threw a hoodie over it. The Bentley your dad gifted you for surviving your first year of uni purred as you pulled out of your family’s circular driveway. You didn’t need the address. You’d memorized every curve of that road to Felix’s house. More than that, you'd memorized every inch of him.

The butler—Mr. Sang—opened the front doors before you even knocked. “Miss Y/N,” he said with a neutral face, though you swore you saw the tiniest twitch of a smile. “He’s expecting you. He’s outside by the pool.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sang. You always keep it classy,” you grinned. Your bare feet padded across the marble floors, through the open hallway, and out into the night air.

The pool looked like something out of a luxury ad. Wide, glassy, glowing cyan under the moonlight. Speakers tucked into hidden corners played that sultry R&B playlist Felix swore he made just for you though you’d caught him using it on other occasions. Still, he insisted, "No one makes me use it like you do, babygirl."

And there he was. Chest bare, dripping wet, perched on the edge of the pool like a Greek god someone turned into a spoiled rich boy. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead, a silver chain clinging to his collarbones, black swim trunks riding low on his hips. He looked up, saw you, and that smirk broke across his lips like sin.

“Took you long enough,” he drawled. “I was starting to think you were scared to come play.” You sauntered forward, shrugging off your hoodie so it slid down your shoulders, slow and intentional.

“I’m not scared of you, baby. I’m scared of what I might do to you.” He groaned—actually groaned—and fell backward into the water with a splash, like your presence physically knocked the air out of him. You stopped just a few feet from the water’s edge, the breeze kissing your skin as you pulled off the hoodie and tossed it to the nearest lounge chair. The moment the blue bikini hit the open air, Felix sat up straighter in the pool, his eyes locked onto you like a hawk spotting its prey. A slow whistle slipped past his lips. “I thought I asked you to lose the bikini.”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms under your chest, your hips cocked to the side. “And I thought I told you I’m not going skinny dipping with you, Lee Felix.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, water dripping off his abs as he leaned back on his elbows in the shallow end, head tilted as he looked you over with a hunger that was more worship than want.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, licking his bottom lip slowly. “You show up looking like that, acting like you didn’t come here to ruin me.” Then louder, just for you: “You’re a fucking goddess, you know that?”

A slow smile curled your lips as you pulled your hair up into a lazy bun. “And you’re just realizing this now?” you teased, your voice like silk dipped in amusement. He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head, his hand gliding over the surface of the water as he waited for you. “Come here already.”

You took a step forward, toes slipping into the heated water, then another, feeling it wrap around your skin like a luxurious embrace. The pool lights lit your body from beneath, and Felix swore you looked unreal, like some forbidden deity crawling from moonlight. You glided toward him until you stood chest-deep, only inches away.

“Hi,” you said softly, almost like a secret, voice warm and teasing.

Felix reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your waist before circling around you. “Hi,” he whispered back, eyes only on your mouth now. And then you leaned in—slow, electric, intentional—and kissed him. It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate his lips parted the moment yours touched, your hands bracing against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist underwater, pulling you closer like he needed you to breathe.

His mouth moved with practiced hunger, but there was reverence in the way he kissed you. As if he knew how dangerous this was. As if kissing you might be the start of something he couldn’t undo. Water rippled around you as your bodies pressed together, soft gasps tangled between the kisses, your hand sliding up to grip his hair as he deepened it with a growl so low it reverberated in your ribs.

Finally, when you pulled away for breath, your foreheads touched.

“Don’t convince me to skinny dip,” you whispered. Felix grinned against your mouth, voice rough, eyes dark. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m still getting that bikini off you tonight.”

The kiss deepened with a kind of hunger neither of you were trying to hide anymore. Felix pulled you in tighter, his hands gliding beneath the water one settling at the small of your back, the other tracing the curve of your thigh like he was memorizing you by feel.

You tilted your head, gasping softly as he kissed down your jaw, lips wet and warm against your skin. “Felix…” you murmured, your voice feathering into a moan when he nipped lightly at your neck, water sloshing gently around your tangled bodies. His fingers danced along the side of your bikini bottoms now, low enough to make your breath hitch, high enough to keep you guessing.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered, voice like gravel and honey. “You feel like a dream in my hands, babygirl.” You didn’t get the chance to answer because just as Felix’s hand slipped a little too high—

“Ahem.”

The voice sliced through the moment like a blade. You practically jumped out of your skin, gasping as your arms shot to your chest, turning sharply toward the source of the interruption.

Felix groaned audibly. “Mr. Sang! Could you at least knock or jingle some bells or something? We’re out here trying to have a moment!” Mr. Sang stood a few feet away at the edge of the pool deck, tray in hand, expression unreadable as ever.

“I do not knock on open air, sir,” he said dryly, eyes deliberately trained toward the hedges behind you both. “Your champagne is ready, as requested.” Still trying to regulate your breathing (and your rapidly heating cheeks), you covered your face with your hands and stifled a laugh. “Thank you, Mr. Sang,” you said with a little giggle.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he replied, not missing a beat. Then, without another word or even the twitch of a smile, he pivoted cleanly on his polished shoes and disappeared back into the mansion, tray left on the side table nearby. Felix sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands. “He does this every single time, I swear.”

You raised a brow, finally recovering enough to swim back toward the edge with a teasing smirk. “Well, maybe if we weren’t about to get it on in his line of sight—”

“You were just starting to let me be great,” he said with a whine, climbing out of the pool with that unfair, soaked Adonis body. Water glided down his torso as he walked over to grab the champagne tray. “The man’s got built-in cockblock radar.” You tried not to laugh as your eyes subtly followed the movement of his back, all lean muscle and wet skin. “I mean… he's good at his job,” you said innocently.

He came back with the tray, handing you your flute with a raised brow. “He’s lucky I like him. Otherwise I’d fire him for the emotional damage.” You clinked your glass with his, chuckling. “To emotional damage, then.” Felix sipped and hummed in approval. “Mmm. Nothing says romance like being interrupted right before I commit several crimes in the pool.” You shook your head and leaned back against the tile. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you,” he said, gaze dropping to your lips again, “are lucky Mr. Sang has impeccable timing… or I wouldn’t have stopped.” You bit your lip. “I didn’t ask you to.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Say that again.” You sipped your champagne, deliberately teasing, the smirk on your lips a silent challenge. “I said… I didn’t ask you to stop.”

Felix took a slow step forward, water reaching his hips, eyes dark and locked on you like you were prey and he was starving.

“Finish your drink, baby,” he said smoothly. “You just signed a contract you can’t back out of.”

The cool fizz of champagne slid down your throat as you floated near the edge, the night wrapped around you in velvet quiet. The earlier tension had melted into a soft calm, the kind of hush that only came after adrenaline and laughter had run their course.

Felix leaned beside you, his arm resting along the ledge of the pool, fingers occasionally trailing lazy circles in the water beside yours. You glanced at him, chin slightly tilted. “So,” you murmured, “now that we’ve graduated… what’s next for you, Felix?”

He blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then gave a small chuckle. “Damn. You just went from ‘let me straddle you in the pool’ to ‘career counseling’ real fast.”

You laughed. “Sorry! I’m just curious. I mean… you could do literally anything, you know?”

Felix looked up toward the sky, eyes soft, lashes fluttering like he was counting stars to avoid something heavier. “Yeah, that’s the problem, though. I can do anything… but I don’t know what I want to do.” He paused. “My parents want me to take over the business. Something about legacy, honor, ‘don’t embarrass the family name’—you know, classic rich people pressure.”

You frowned, watching his jaw tighten. “But you don’t want that.”

He shook his head, voice quieter now. “I want something that’s mine. I don’t wanna live in a house filled with my dad’s portraits and my mom’s glass trophies and pretend like I care about shipping and logistics or hedge funds or whatever the hell they do.”

You swam closer, propping your chin on your arms at the pool edge beside him. “So, what’s the dream?” He gave you a side-glance, then smirked shyly. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I swear on Mr. Sang’s inability to knock.”

Felix snorted. “Alright then… I wanna start a little studio. Like, music, photography, video—creative stuff. I wanna work with people who give a damn. Build something from scratch, with my name on the door and no one’s permission needed.” Your heart thudded at the rawness in his voice. There was something so intimate about hearing a dream spoken out loud especially from someone like Felix, who usually wore confidence like a second skin but now looked exposed in the moonlight.

“That’s not silly,” you whispered. “That’s beautiful.”

He turned to face you more fully, expression softening. “You think so?”

You nodded slowly. “You’re passionate. You’re talented. And you’re the kind of person who makes people feel seen. If you open that studio one day… people will want to be part of it just because you’re part of it.”

Something shifted in his eyes something deeper, heavier. Then, he leaned in suddenly and kissed you. It wasn’t teasing or wild this time. It was tender. Like he was kissing you because of what you’d said, not in spite of it. Like your words had curled around his ribs and squeezed tight. You kissed him back, hand slipping behind his neck, tugging gently on his damp hair. He pulled you closer with a quiet, murmured “come here, my love,” before kissing you again—deeper now, his lips moving with more heart, less rush. The kind of kiss that said I see you, I hear you, I need you.

Your chest brushed his, wet skin to wet skin, as your fingers traced up his shoulder. His hands found your waist under the water, thumbs rubbing slow, dizzying circles into your sides. Then almost playfully he reached up, unhooked the strap of your bikini top with one smooth flick, and whispered, “Oops.”

You gasped, eyes wide. “Felix—!”

He just smirked, a smug tilt to his lips. “Guess it slipped.”

“You little—” You were mid-splash to his chest when,

“Mr. Felix.”

You both froze. There stood Mr. Sang once more, like some eternal guardian of interrupted intimacy. His face, as always, was a masterclass in neutrality. No reaction. No judgment. Just solemn duty.

Felix groaned. “Seriously? Do you just live in the walls?”

Mr. Sang cleared his throat. “Your father left a message, sir. He would like to speak with you in the study at your earliest convenience.” You covered your chest with your arm, sinking deeper into the water with a little giggle, lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Thanks, Mr. Sang,” you said sheepishly.

Mr. Sang nodded once. “Enjoy your evening.” And with the elegance of a stage exit, he turned and vanished once again into the night. Felix looked at you, then at the sky, then dramatically flopped his head back into the water. “This man’s entire life mission is to make sure I never get laid.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your champagne. “He’s just doing his job.” Felix raised a brow, voice low again. “Well then maybe you should help me finish mine later… when there’s no witnesses.”

---

You both emerged from the pool in soft ripples and lazy sighs, the night air cool against your damp skin. Felix was out first, always quick on his feet, and he reached back toward you like a prince offering a hand to his queen.

“C’mon, goddess,” he grinned. “Before Mr. Sang returns from the shadows again.”

You took his hand, and as you stepped out, you instinctively crossed your arms over your chest. Felix clicked his tongue and crouched slightly in front of you, fingers moving carefully, respectfully, to help re-fasten the strap of your bikini top.

“Relax, baby,” he murmured with the sweetest smirk, not even looking up at you. “Not my first time dealing with a wardrobe malfunction. Although, I gotta say—this one was caused by intentional sabotage.”

“You’re lucky I don’t push you back into the pool,” you quipped.

“You’re lucky I wouldn’t mind that,” he replied smugly, handing you a fluffy white towel.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and took it. He wrapped another towel low around his waist, water glistening off his toned chest as he grabbed the champagne glasses and led you back inside, barefoot and dripping through marble-tiled floors. The warm, low lighting in the hallway made everything feel more intimate. The house, for all its extravagance, felt like it had dimmed just for you two. Like even the chandeliers were rooting for you.

Once inside his room—ridiculously big, decorated like a luxury magazine spread—he dropped his towel and went straight to the dresser. You hung back by the door, still toweling off your legs. He turned, holding a t-shirt in one hand and a pair of shorts in the other. “Did you bring anything else besides that hoodie? Like… I dunno, clothes?”

You blinked. “Oh my God. I completely forgot.” Felix stared at you. “You? Miss planner? Miss ‘I have three different bags depending on mood’? Forgot?”

You laughed, hiding your face with your towel. “Shut up!”

“Nah, nah,” he teased, tossing the clothes at you. “I’m never letting you live this down. You’re officially on my ‘needs supervision’ list.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“I’m an accommodating brat. See? I even picked out the good boxers. The stretchy kind.”

You caught the shirt and shorts mid-air, inspecting them. Of course they were designer. Of course they smelled like cedarwood and cashmere and him. He walked up behind you as you turned to head for the en-suite, lowering his voice with that casual mischief of his. “Do you want me to shower with you?”

You turned, pressing a slow kiss to his lips, letting it linger. “Hmm…”

Then you gave him a playful shove on the chest, making him stumble back with a grin. “Not tonight, Lix.” He clutched his heart dramatically. “Denied. Brutal. I’ll go cry into my throw pillows.”

You blew him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom, giggling as the sound of his fake sobs echoed behind you. Steam soon filled the space as water rained down and the heat soaked into your skin, but even with all that warmth… your mind was still sizzling from his touch, his words, the way he looked at you like you were his favorite thing in the whole world. The steam curled behind you like a silk veil as you stepped out of the shower, warm and clean, wrapped in a plush towel that was too big to be anything but Felix’s. The bathroom smelled faintly of amber and lavender and mischief.

You glanced at the counter, spotting his infamous skincare routine laid out in militant order: toner, serum, moisturizer, eye cream, something in a gold tube you couldn’t pronounce but knew cost more than rent. With a small smile, you dipped your fingers into the products, patting and smoothing them onto your skin. By the time you slipped into the clothes he gave you, you felt good. Relaxed. A little dreamy. The kind of soft that only came after late-night swimming, too much flirting, and hot water washing the day away. When you finally stepped out of the bathroom, towel now draped over your shoulder, your feet slowed to a stop.

Mr. Sang was there, as if summoned by the universe. Unbothered. Standing beside a small table now set near the sliding glass doors, elegantly arranged with silver cloches and delicate side dishes, a pitcher of fruit-infused water and two champagne flutes.

“Miss Y/N,” he greeted with a gentle nod. “Master Felix asked me to bring this for you.”

You blinked, adjusting the shirt you were swimming in. “Oh—wow, thank you. Um… where is he?” Mr. Sang clasped his hands behind his back, always perfectly formal. “He said he needed to freshen up in the other bathroom. He’ll be stopping by his father’s study afterward.”

You paused, towel still in hand, something tightening in your chest. “Oh.” The butler didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t need to.

Felix’s father wasn’t someone people casually strolled in on. That man was the kind of rich that didn't just own wealth—he orchestrated it. Corporate tycoon. Boardroom tyrant. The kind of man whose voice could fold executives like origami. Felix never said much about him, but the tension whenever he was mentioned did the talking for him.

"Thanks, Mr. Sang,” you said softly, watching him step away with the same ghost-like elegance he always carried. You sat down, lifting the silver dome and revealing perfectly plated salmon, grilled vegetables, and a creamy truffle pasta that definitely wasn’t part of a late-night menu. Felix must’ve asked for it specifically. For you. Like he always did.

Still, your fork hovered, eyes occasionally drifting toward the closed hallway door that led to the study wing of the house.

You wondered what was happening behind it. What Felix was saying—or being told. What it cost him to keep playing this role of the golden boy with a bite. The perfect heir who hated perfection. Because even if you were the goddess by the pool… he was still the prince in the glass tower. And sometimes, even princes had to face dragons.

---

The halls of the Lee estate were too quiet—the kind of hush that settled like velvet over secrets. Felix walked with deliberate steps, damp hair falling into his eyes, clothes clinging faintly to his skin from the shower. The laughter and warmth of the night lingered behind him… and in front of him, trouble waited. He pushed open the tall oak doors of his father’s study with barely a knock.

“Didn’t expect you to be home so early,” Felix said casually, leaning against the frame like he hadn’t just interrupted the silence. His father didn’t even glance up from the whiskey he was pouring. “The event wasn’t entertaining.”

Of course it wasn’t, Felix thought bitterly. No audience to impress. Mr. Lee finally turned, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, watch glinting beneath the low light. “I saw you with her.”

Felix arched a brow. “Yeah? And?” His father’s tone dropped like ice into the glass. “You need to cut ties with that girl.” Felix blinked once. “I’m sorry, what?”

Mr. Lee paced to his desk, setting the glass down without taking a sip. “There was a… situation. At the event. Your little girlfriend’s father and I had a disagreement.”

Felix scoffed, arms crossing. “Shocker. What else is new?”

“Don’t be smart, Felix,” his father warned. “He publicly challenged a deal I’ve been negotiating for months. Do you understand how much this complicates everything?”

“And what the fuck does that have to do with me and Y/N?” Felix snapped, suddenly standing straighter, sharper. Mr. Lee looked at him with that same infuriating, surgical calm he used in board meetings. “Because as of tonight, our families are enemies. And I can assure you—her father will not hesitate to use you to get to me.”

“So what? You want me to punish her because you pissed off another billionaire with a fragile ego?” Felix laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not cutting her off because you screwed up a deal.”

“This isn’t about the deal—this is about optics. Reputation. Control.”

“No, this is about you thinking you still get to make every decision in my life,” Felix growled. “I’m trying to protect you,” his father snapped.

“By tearing apart the one good thing in my life?!” Felix shouted back. “How the hell do you not see that you’re the problem?!” Mr. Lee’s jaw locked tight. “If you don’t end things with her—I will.”

A dangerous silence fell.

“She’s been dragging you down anyway,” he added coldly.

The words detonated.

Felix’s face twisted. His knuckles whitened against the back of the chair he'd gripped. “You arrogant son of a—” he stepped forward, voice rising. “She’s the only person who doesn’t treat me like a pawn or a brand. The only one who sees me as me, and you think she’s the dead weight?!”

Mr. Lee narrowed his eyes, but Felix was already shaking with fury.

“You’re not cutting her off,” he said with deadly finality. “Not you. Not your money. Not your pathetic empire.”

“Felix—”

“Over. My. Dead. Body.” The two men stood there—father and son, business tycoon and rebellious heir—like storm clouds ready to clash.

And upstairs, completely unaware, you sat in Felix’s room with champagne and truffle pasta, waiting for a boy in love to come back from war.

You were halfway through your glass of champagne when the door creaked open. Your eyes lifted, expecting the usual confident, slightly smug expression Felix always wore after annoying someone or after seeing you. But tonight… it wasn’t there.

He walked in silently, closing the door behind him with a soft click. You could instantly feel it, something was off. His damp curls messier than before, and his jaw… clenched so hard it could’ve cracked a diamond. He didn’t look at you right away. Just walked over to the edge of the bed and sat, hands buried in his hair, elbows on his knees.

“Felix?” you asked gently, putting the glass down. No response.

You stood up, crossing the room in slow steps. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Still nothing. His silence wasn’t heavy—it was suffocating. And it wasn’t like him to hold anything in.

You reached out, fingertips brushing his shoulder. “Felix.”

And that’s when it broke. He stood suddenly, eyes blazing—not at you, never at you—and stormed to the door. He threw it open and leaned halfway into the hallway.

“I hate you!” he yelled.

The words echoed through the mansion like gunfire. Cold, loud, loaded.

Then he slammed the door shut so hard the frame trembled. His back hit the door as he leaned against it, chest rising and falling fast. You stood there, heart thumping in your ears, as he looked at you now eyes glassy, but not weak. Just… angry.

You approached him slowly again. “Felix…”

He exhaled hard and rubbed his face before speaking. “He wants me to cut you off.” Your brows knit together. “Who?”

“My dad,” he muttered bitterly. “He had an argument with your father at the event tonight—some dumb business deal, egos clashing. Now, apparently, that means we’re enemies. And because of that, I’m supposed to drop you like a bad investment.”

You blinked, mouth parting in disbelief. “What?”

Felix looked at you, something raw behind his usual calm. “He said you’ve been dragging me down.” The words came out like venom. “That if I don’t end things, he will.” Your stomach twisted, your voice caught somewhere between rage and heartbreak. “And what did you say?”

Felix didn’t hesitate. “That he’d have to kill me first.”

Your breath left your lungs in a rush.

“He doesn’t get to choose who I love, baby,” he said, stepping closer, eyes locked on yours like they were anchoring him. “And I’d rather burn this whole damn house to the ground before I let him scare me into losing you.”

Your hands found his face instinctively, thumbs brushing his. “He’s wrong,” Felix continued, voice breaking just slightly. “You’re not a liability. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m not just… some golden boy people use when it’s convenient.”

He looked at you like you were the only safe place in the world.

“And I’d rather lose every inheritance, every fake-ass socialite friend, every damn dollar with my name on it… than lose you.” Your chest tightened, eyes pricking.

“Felix…” you stepped into him, hands gently cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the wetness that had formed along his lashes. He leaned into your touch like he’d been starving for it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said, swallowing thickly. “But I just—needed to make that clear. To him. To you. To myself.” You kissed him soft at first. And then deeper. Warmer. A kiss that tasted like defiance and devotion and everything in between.

He pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping around your waist like he couldn’t bear the idea of letting go again. “I’m so sick of him trying to control my goddamn life,” Felix muttered, voice low and dangerous, arms tightening around you. “Like I’m just some pawn. Like you’re just some disposable secret.”

“Felix—”

“I hate this. I hate that he thinks he can touch what we have.” His mouth pressed against yours hard—angry, possessive. “You’re not his to talk about.”

“Felix,” you said again, pulling back slightly. “Calm down—”

But he didn’t listen. He didn’t want to. His hands gripped your face, thumbs brushing your cheek as he kissed you again—desperate this time, like if he just kissed you hard enough, it would shut out the entire world trying to pull you apart. The edge of the bed hit the backs of your knees and he followed you down with too much need, too much pressure.

“Felix—” you gasped, turning your head.

“She doesn’t drag me down,” he hissed like he was still arguing with his father. “She makes me better. She makes me feel—”

“Felix!” You finally pushed him back with both hands on his chest, breath shaky and eyes wide. “Stop.”

He froze. His eyes met yours, glassy and red, and the silence between you dropped like a thunderclap. Your voice trembled as you stepped away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “My dad told me to end things with you too.”

He blinked. The fury melted into confusion. “What?” You nodded slowly, unable to meet his eyes. “He… told me this afternoon. Said he knew what he was about to do was going to spark something ugly. That it was going to affect us. That I should let go now—before it got worse.”

Felix looked like someone had punched him square in the chest. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I wanted to,” you whispered, finally looking up at him, guilt swimming in your gaze. “I tried to. But you looked so happy when I got here. And I got scared. I didn’t want to ruin that… or us.”

He stared at you, jaw slack, chest heaving. “I didn’t want you to look at me like I was some kind of burden,” you said softly, voice cracking. “Like he did.” Felix shook his head slowly, walking toward you again, but more carefully this time. No heat. Just heartbreak. His fingers brushed your cheek gently.

“You are not a burden,” he said, voice hoarse.

“I know,” you said quietly. “But you looked like you needed to believe it too.”

He pulled you into his chest, this time without urgency just silence, and the soft thud of his heart, threatening to break under the weight of the war around you.

For the first time that night… both of you were no longer hiding. He didn’t let go of you, not yet but there was a stillness in his hold, like even his heartbeat had stopped to wait for your answer.

“So what do we do now?” Felix asked, voice low, searching your face like it held the blueprint for how to survive this. “How do we fix this?”

You hesitated. It was just a second. But that one second was enough for everything to shift.

“…We don’t,” you whispered.

The world didn’t explode. It didn’t shatter into glass and blood. It just... stopped moving. Like the earth skipped a beat. Like your words stunned time itself. Felix pulled away from you slightly, eyes narrowing as if he hadn’t heard you right.

“What?”

“We don’t fix it,” you repeated, barely able to look him in the eyes. “Maybe… maybe we should end things.” His hands dropped from your waist like you’d burned him. He took a step back, blinking—twice, three times—as if the words were stuck in the air between you, echoing in slow motion.

“What the fuck are you saying right now?”

“I’m saying we can’t win this, Felix,” you said, voice breaking. “If our families are already declaring war, what’s the point of pretending we’re not caught in the crossfire?” Felix’s chest rose and fell, shallow and erratic. “You’re giving up.”

“I’m trying to protect you—”

“No.” He cut you off, the sharpness in his tone making you flinch. “No, don’t you dare twist this into some fucking noble sacrifice.”

“Felix—”

“Is someone forcing you to say this shit?” His voice cracked, raw and louder than usual. “Tell me. Right now. Are you being threatened?” You swallowed hard but didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Your silence said enough. So did the way your shoulders tensed. The way your eyes darted away. The way your bottom lip trembled even though you were trying so hard to be strong. Felix’s nostrils flared. He let out a humorless laugh—sharp and cold.

“Wow,” he muttered. “Wow, this is actually happening.”

Still no response.

He raked a hand through his damp hair and turned his back to you for a second, fists clenched at his sides, jaw tightening with every breath he took. “Tell me who the hell said something to you,” he demanded, voice lower now, but seething. “Was it your dad? His people? One of my father’s snakes? Who?”

You just stood there, arms crossed, tears building behind your lashes like rain on a glass window. Felix turned back to you and took a slow, careful step forward, eyes softer now but that storm still swirled beneath them.

“I would burn this whole goddamn town to the ground for you, Y/N. You know that, right?”

A tear finally slipped down your cheek, and you nodded, brokenly.

“Then why…” he whispered, “why are you standing there telling me to let you go?” You opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out. There was nothing left to say. You were already moving before your mind could even finish the thought.

“I have to go,” you said, voice thick, throat tight.

“Wait—wait, no, baby, please—” Felix tried to catch your arm, tried to hold you there, tried to fix it with just his hands and his voice and his hear, but you pulled away.

Hard. The force made him stumble back a step.

“Y/N—”

You were gone before he could speak again. Darting out of the room, half-blinded by tears, nearly tripping over your feet. He chased after you, barefoot and furious, the hallway too quiet around his ragged breathing.

“Y/N, STOP!” Felix’s voice echoed down the marble corridor, sharp and cracked. “FUCKING COME BACK!”

And then, at the top of the staircase—his father.

Standing still by the railing. Arms crossed. Blank expression. Like he was watching a rehearsal of a performance he wrote himself. Felix stopped, chest heaving. It hit him then. This wasn’t just a reaction. This was the plan. All of it, timed.

“You—” Felix seethed, stepping toward him with eyes like fire. “You did this.”

His father didn’t blink. “You set this up. You wanted her to leave. You wanted me to lose her.”

Still, his father said nothing. Not a word. Not a shift in posture. Cowardice dressed in tailored authority.

“You’re a fucking coward, you hear me?” Felix shouted, pointing a trembling finger at him. “You’re a son of a bitch, and you’re a useless father!”

Nothing. But behind those cold eyes, there was something. A flicker. A wound, maybe. One he wouldn’t show, but couldn’t fully hide. Felix scoffed and turned, taking the stairs two at a time until he burst through the front door and into the warm night air.

There you were. Standing by your car. Hands shaking as you tried to find your keys. Breathing fast. The hurt written across your face like a damn symphony of pain.

“Y/N—”

You didn’t turn. “Baby, please—” Felix called out again, running to you. “Don’t get in the car. Not yet.” You ignored him. Your hand trembled harder as the keys fumbled in your grip.

“I’m not giving up on you.”

You froze.

His voice cracked right in the middle. Honest and raw and almost too human to survive this world.

You turned slowly, meeting his eyes, those messy, desperate eyes. Chest still rising and falling from all the running and the screaming and the wanting to destroy everything that tried to pull you apart.

He took a step closer.

“I don’t care what your dad said,” he whispered. “I don’t care what my dad wants. I don’t care how powerful they think they are. They’re not us. They don’t get us. And they’re not taking this from me.” You didn’t know when the tears started falling again, only that you couldn’t look away from him.

“They can kill my name, ruin my future, burn everything I’m supposed to inherit—fine. Let them.” His jaw clenched. “But they don’t get to take you.”

Silence.

Then your voice—soft, aching.

“Felix…”

“Please,” he whispered. “Just… stay.”

It all came crumbling down at once. Your knees nearly gave out beneath you, the sound of Felix’s voice—the plea in it—ripping right through the shield you’d built to protect yourself. The trembling in your hands turned violent, your breath hitching as the sob pushed itself up your throat.

And then—you fell. Right into his arms.

Felix caught you instantly, wrapping around you like you were the only thing keeping him standing, too. His arms were strong, frantic, one hand cradling your head as the other pressed you against his chest, holding you like you were glass and already broken.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to—Felix—I didn’t—”

Your voice cracked, and then it all spilled out in wet, shaking sobs against the base of his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”

“Hey, hey…” he whispered, voice thick with tears of his own now, his jaw pressed to your temple. “Stop. Don’t say that. Don’t apologize, baby, please—don’t—” He rocked you just slightly, just enough to feel like you were both still alive. His heartbeat was pounding, hard and fast beneath your cheek.

“I should’ve told you. I should’ve said something earlier, but I didn’t know how,” you choked out. “I thought maybe—maybe if we just held on long enough—”

“I know,” Felix murmured, eyes clenched shut. “I know. I thought that too.” The driveway was still and heavy with night air, cicadas humming in the trees, the scent of damp earth and chlorine lingering on your skin.

And then—

“Master Felix.” Mr. Sang’s voice interrupted gently from a distance, but it still made you both flinch like a match had been struck too close.

You turned your head slightly, still cradled in Felix’s arms.

He stood just at the edge of the drive, his hands folded neatly behind his back, perfectly poised despite witnessing what was unmistakably heartbreak in live-action. “Should I ready a car for you and Miss Y/N?” he asked carefully, like he was offering an exit from the battlefield.

Felix didn’t hesitate. His voice was hoarse, but steady.

“Yes.”

Mr. Sang nodded once, respectfully, and turned to make arrangements. Felix stayed there with you for a second longer. Your arms wrapped tight around him. His chin resting on top of your head. The world silent except for the rustle of wind and the whisper of your apologies, still tucked between your sobs.

“Where are we going?” you asked quietly, voice so small it nearly disappeared into his chest.

He kissed the top of your head.

“Anywhere but here, babygirl.”

The sleek, black sedan hummed low as it pulled up the driveway. Mr. Sang stepped out before the engine had even stopped, his movements as smooth and calculated as ever like he hadn’t just watched your heart fall apart at the seams fifteen minutes ago.

“Where to, Master Felix?” he asked, holding the back door open. Felix looked at you first. His hand was still laced in yours, fingers tight, grounding. Your eyes were red, your skin damp from tears and chlorinated water, his hoodie still hanging off your frame.

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to. Felix gave a tight nod, jaw clenched. “Take us to the lake house. No one should be there.”

Mr. Sang simply bowed his head once, no questions, no surprises. “Very well.” You slid into the backseat, curling into the far end, and Felix followed, sitting close enough to keep a hand on your thigh, his thumb moving in slow, mindless circles. Comfort, even if he was fuming beneath the surface.

The car moved. The mansion, the pool, the pain it started falling away behind tinted windows and silent roads. It was nearly twenty minutes of heavy, weighted silence before Mr. Sang, in an unusual break of protocol, spoke again.

“You know,” he said, eyes still forward, tone almost... casual, “love and loyalty tend to be the greatest rebellion of all in families like yours.”

Felix blinked. You sat up slightly.

Mr. Sang continued without turning around. “The truth is, most parents hope their children will obey. Some are terrified when their children start choosing their own happiness instead.” A pause. “But I’d rather serve a son who chooses love over fear. It’s rare. And it’s brave.”

Silence dropped again, like a pin hitting velvet.

You and Felix looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

Felix tilted his head, lips twitching. “Wow,” he drawled, voice still raspy. “Thanks, Mr. Sang. That almost sounded like... human emotion.” Mr. Sang didn’t even blink. “Don’t get used to it, sir. I’ll be back to emotionally vacant sarcasm once we arrive.”

Felix snorted. You cracked a watery smile.

For a second, the weight lifted. Just a little. And outside, the trees gave way to the open road, stars blinking through the clouds as the lake grew nearer.

---

The lake house loomed quiet and still against the backdrop of moonlit water, like it had been waiting just for them. The air was cooler here—soothing, even. Crickets whispered in the trees, and a light breeze skimmed across the water’s glassy surface.

Mr. Sang remained in the driver’s seat without needing instruction, a silent guardian under the soft hum of the engine. The doors clicked open with that signature luxury softness, and you both stepped out into the night, the gravel crunching under your sneakers. Felix didn’t say a word, just reached out and took your hand again, fingers interlocked with quiet urgency.

The dock creaked beneath your weight as you walked toward the edge. It smelled like damp wood and pine trees, like memory. You used to come here on spring breaks. Pool parties. Boat races. But tonight… it was different. Private. Real.

Felix sat first, legs swinging off the edge, and you sat beside him, the water shimmering beneath your feet, cool wind brushing against your skin. His hand hadn’t let go.

“I used to think this place was boring as hell,” he murmured, gaze cast on the lake. “Now it’s the only place I don’t feel like I’m being watched.” You didn’t answer at first. Just leaned into his side, cheek on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around you.

“So… what now?” you finally whispered.

Felix sighed hard through his nose. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, face barely lit by the dock light behind. “Do we really just… go back to pretending we’re okay when we’re not?”

“I don’t want to pretend anything with you,” he said immediately, turning to face you fully. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not for him. Not for anyone.”

“But we can’t act like this won’t get worse,” you said gently, voice wobbling. “Our families—”

“Let them be enemies,” he cut in, firmer than before. “We’ve been trying to live in their world. Maybe it’s time we start building our own.” Your chest tightened. “That sounds like a fantasy.”

He gave a crooked grin, the kind that never quite reached his eyes when he was hiding something. “Then let’s make it real.” You went quiet again, watching how his hair moved slightly in the wind. How his jaw clenched like he was ready to fight the whole damn world for you. And maybe he was.

“Felix…”

“Look, baby,” he said, reaching for your face now, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I know I can’t fix everything. But I can choose you. Every day, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Your breath caught. “And if they try to pull us apart again,” he added, voice low and certain, “we’ll pull harder. Yeah?”

Your heart thudded. Loud. Painful. Real.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

He smiled, then kissed your forehead, holding you close again, your bodies silhouetted by moonlight and rebellion.

And from the car, Mr. Sang watched the two of you on the dock, then checked his watch and turned up the radio just a little, giving you the moment you deserved.

yes i did remember felix likes blue

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