requested by liv! it's nice to write another idea of yours, i really like this one, angel. thank you for the support, hope you like these two<3
The unit had a reputation long before you ever stepped into its orbit. It wasn’t just their results, it was the way they carried themselves. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, like they existed a step above everyone else. They were built for pressure, shaped by it. Hard men, sharp minds, bodies honed into something precise and dangerous.
At the center of it all stood Christopher Bahng. Commanding officer. Untouchable, in the way only someone completely certain of his authority could be. His presence alone straightened spines. He didn’t raise his voice often, he didn’t need to. Discipline followed him like a shadow, and his expectations were absolute.
His second-in-command was different. Lieutenant Lee Minho moved through the same space like gravity didn’t quite apply to him. Relaxed, almost careless at a glance, but there was something coiled underneath that ease. He teased, provoked, lingered just enough to make people forget he outranked them. A cigarette was almost always between his fingers, like a quiet rebellion against the structure Christopher enforced.
You were a new soldier, but not for long. You learned quickly. Faster than most. You adapted, watched, understood the rhythm of the team. And more importantly, how to survive within it. That alone made you noticeable.
The fact that you didn’t crumble under their scrutiny made you interesting.
Maybe that was where things started shifting.
The party blurred into fragments. Music too loud, bodies too close, laughter spilling into something reckless. It was the kind of release that only came after tension stretched too far for too long.
Someone handed you a drink. Then another. The room tilted just enough to feel unreal.
You remembered firm hands finding your waist, steadying you. Another touch, warmer, deliberate, tilting your face upward. The world narrowed for a second. Then nothing.
Morning came in quietly. Sunlight spilled across unfamiliar walls, too bright, too calm compared to the chaos you barely remembered. Your body felt heavy, limbs slow as awareness returned piece by piece.
The first thing you felt was strong arms around you.
Minho.
You could tell without turning. The way he held you, his breath even against the back of your neck.
And then there was the other presence.
Christopher sat at the edge of the bed, cigarette between his fingers, posture relaxed but still composed in that way that never really switched off.
Even like this, stripped of uniform and rank, he looked exactly like what he was. Someone used to control, to command. Broad shoulders, defined lines, rough hands that carried too many scars.
It took a second longer than it should have for the realization to settle.
You weren’t alone. You hadn’t been. Your superiors had been your company last night.
Christopher noticed the shift in your breathing before you even moved. His gaze dropped to you, sharp but not unkind, studying.
He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with a touch that was unexpectedly careful. "You’re awake."
His voice was low, steady, stripped of its usual edge. Softer. "Did you sleep well, honey?" He added, the nickname slipping past his lips easily.
His hand lingered briefly at your neck, thumb grazing over the marks left behind. Subtle evidence of something you couldn’t fully recall. "We pushed you a little too far yesterday, hm?"
Behind you, Minho shifted, letting out a quiet groan as he adjusted his hold, pulling you just slightly closer without thinking about it. "What time is it?" He muttered, voice rough with sleep.