Lacy Euphoria

His Favorite Girl/Part Three: Loving Him in Public

Originally published on AO3.

🔞 Adults 18+. MDNI. Fictional fanwork using names fictitiously for entertainment. Not real, endorsed, affiliated, or a claim of real events. All romantic and sexual content is between consenting adults. Please consume fiction with media literacy intact.

The message stays open on your phone while nobody in the kitchen says anything. Were you at the event with him? sits beneath an account name you do not recognize, plain enough that it should not feel threatening, but Mingi’s hand closes around the edge of the counter while Wynter stands close enough for her shoulder to press against yours. Another notification appears before you have decided what to do with the first one, and Wynter reaches across you to turn the phone facedown. When you look at her, she keeps two fingers resting against the case and tells you, “You can read them. I’m not telling you that you can’t. I’m saying maybe give yourself five minutes before you let strangers into the kitchen.” Mingi looks like he wants to object to somebody else deciding what happens with your phone, but one glance at your face seems to change his mind.

You pull out one of the stools and sit while Wynter leans against the cabinet beside you and Mingi remains across the counter. When you ask how anybody found you that quickly, he tells you he does not know yet, then drags one hand over his mouth before saying management will want screenshots. The laugh that comes out of you has no humor in it as you turn your phone back over. “Great. Love that my DMs are evidence now.” Wynter pulls out the stool beside you and asks what these people actually know instead of everything the three of you are afraid they might know.

You unlock the screen and go through the notifications together. Three follow requests have become five. The messages repeat the same questions in different forms. Were you at the event? Do you know Mingi? Are you the woman in the photograph? One person thinks you work for his company, and another message contains only the words I knew it was you, which makes you stare long enough for Mingi to move around the counter and hold out his hand.

“Give me the phone,” he says quietly, but you pull it closer and tell him no before tilting the screen so he can still see. When he insists you should not have to read everything strangers are sending you, irritation rises faster than you intended. “And you shouldn’t get to decide which part of this I’m allowed to see.” The kitchen stills for a moment before he lowers his hand and sits on your other side. “Okay. You’re right.” Wynter turns toward him and murmurs, “Damn. First try,” and when he gives her an exhausted look, she tells him she is simply acknowledging growth.

The small laugh that escapes you takes some of the pressure out of the room. After that, the three of you sort what matters. Nobody mentions your address. Nobody identifies your workplace. Nobody uses Wynter’s name. Mingi screenshots anything management may need while Wynter opens her notes app and starts separating facts from possibilities. When he tells her that is smart, she answers, “I know,” without looking up.

His phone rings before any of you can settle. Mingi checks the screen, says management is calling back, then puts the call on speaker. The senior manager skips greetings and asks whether anyone has contacted you directly. You answer yes before Mingi can, and Wynter reads off what you know so far: follow requests, message requests, no address, no workplace, nothing identifying her.

When the manager asks whether your account is public, you tell them yes before adding that you are not deleting your life online because strangers decided to investigate it. Mingi turns toward you but stays quiet. Management suggests making the account private temporarily while they determine how you were found. You look toward Wynter, who leaves the decision with you, then ask Mingi what he thinks. He tells you private for tonight makes sense, and you repeat, “For tonight,” before changing the setting yourself.

Wynter is still going through the requests when she stops. “Wait.” She angles the screen between you. One of the accounts that followed you has also followed her.

Mingi sits straighter, but Wynter catches the shift before he can do anything with it. She points at him with her phone and tells him not to start. When he says they found her, she corrects him immediately. “They found my profile. That is not the same thing as somebody standing outside the apartment, so stay where we are.” His mouth opens, then closes, and you reach beneath the counter to rest your hand against his knee.

The manager asks whether Wynter’s account reveals where she works or lives. She says no, although there are enough pictures of the two of you together for anyone looking closely to understand that you are important to each other. When the manager asks how your relationship is described publicly, Wynter gives you a sideways look and says, “Depends who’s asking.” The silence from the speaker lasts long enough for you to bite the inside of your cheek before she admits that answer was not helpful and explains that your romantic relationship is known to friends, family, and the people in your actual life, but neither of you announces it online.

Management tells you not to change that tonight because sudden deletions, altered bios, and removed photographs can create a new trail for people to follow. Chanel’s warning from the previous night comes back immediately, and when you look at Wynter, you can tell she heard it too. Once people decide somebody is worth finding, they start comparing everything. Wynter asks whether that means doing nothing, and management clarifies that for tonight, you do nothing publicly. Mingi asks what happens tomorrow, and when the answer is that they will assess the situation, he gives a humorless laugh and mutters that he is beginning to hate that word.

The call ends with instructions to save every direct message and respond to none of them. Once the phone goes dark, Wynter opens the refrigerator and announces that she needs food. When you remind her that all three of you just ate, she pulls out leftovers and shuts the door with her hip. “That was before strangers started investigating my Instagram.” Mingi asks whether she always handles stress by eating, and Wynter looks at him like he should already know better. “I handle most things by eating. This is not new information.”

For almost ten minutes, the three of you manage to build something ordinary around yourselves. You find plates while Mingi opens the wrong drawer looking for silverware and gets corrected by Wynter without her turning around. She complains about a show she has been watching. He criticizes your microwave technique. You remind him he barely knows how to use the appliances in your apartment, and for a little while nobody looks at the phones lined up on the counter.

Then Wynter’s vibrates.

She reads the message, and whatever Mingi was saying dies when her expression changes. One of her friends has sent a screenshot of a new post containing two photographs side by side. The first is the blurry event picture. The second came from Wynter’s public account months earlier and shows you sitting beside her at a restaurant, smiling at something outside the frame while your coat hangs over the back of your chair.

It is the same coat.

Beneath the comparison, somebody has written, Pretty sure I found her.

Mingi reaches for his phone, but Wynter catches his wrist before his fingers touch it. When his eyes snap toward hers, she tells him he is not calling management to report that the internet discovered coats exist. He says strangers have her account now, and she reminds him they already had it. “And now they have a picture of her,” he says, but Wynter releases his wrist and tells him they already had pictures of you too. “That’s how we got here.”

“Stop,” you say, and both of them go quiet.

You enlarge the screenshot. The post still does not contain your name, but the replies are already asking where the second picture came from. You tell them strangers are going to find the original account, and when Mingi says you do not know that yet, you shake your head. “Yes, I do. Chanel told us exactly how this works. One person finds the coat. Somebody else finds Wynter’s page. Somebody else recognizes my face. Eventually somebody finds my name.”

Mingi comes around the counter and places both hands carefully at your waist. “Then we deal with that when it happens.” You stare at him long enough for his expression to change before telling him he is the one warning you not to live tomorrow tonight now. Understanding settles over his face, and Wynter looks between the two of you with a faint smile before observing that everybody seems to be learning. Mingi mutters that he hates this house, and Wynter immediately corrects him that it is an apartment. “That makes it worse,” he says, and you laugh despite yourself.

Your phone vibrates again while his hands are still at your waist. This time you reach for it without hesitation. The account may be private now, but the follow requests have multiplied, and one message has risen above the others.

It uses your name.

Your actual name.

You open it and read, You’re the girl in the picture, right? before another appears underneath asking, How long have you been with him?

The phone begins to shake in your hand.

For a second you think it is another notification before realizing the movement is coming from you. You set it down before you drop it, and when Mingi says your name softly, you tell him you are fine on instinct. Wynter’s expression softens anyway. “Baby.”

“I’m fine,” you say again, but the word cracks.

You turn toward the counter, pressing your palms against it while your eyes burn. “Fuck,” you whisper, staring down at your trembling hands. “I don’t like this. I really don’t fucking like this.”

Mingi moves behind you but does not touch you until he asks if he can. You nod, and his arms come around you slowly while Wynter steps into the space beside you and takes your hand. Once you start talking, everything you had been holding back comes with it. They know your name. They found Wynter. They are already comparing photographs. You do not know what happens if somebody finds the apartment or follows her because of you.

Wynter steps closer until you have to look at her. She cups your cheek and tells you not to turn her into collateral damage inside your own head. When you tell her she is in this because of you, she shakes her head before you finish. “No. I’m in this because I love you. Those are not the same sentence.”

Mingi turns you carefully in his arms until you are facing him. You tell him he cannot promise he can stop whatever happens next, and he does not insult you by pretending otherwise. His thumb catches the tear beneath your eye while he says, “No. I can’t promise you that. I can promise you that you don’t deal with any of it by yourself.”

Wynter kisses your temple while Mingi keeps one hand against your back, and the three of you stay close until your breathing stops catching. When he kisses your forehead and then your cheek, his mouth eventually brushes the corner of yours. The kiss is gentle enough that you know he means it as comfort, and when he starts to pull back, you catch the front of his shirt.

His eyes search yours before his mouth returns to yours. You kiss him harder this time, gripping his shirt while his palm spreads over your back, and the fear does not disappear so much as make room for something hotter beside it. When you break away, you turn toward Wynter without letting go of him. She brushes the wetness from beneath your eye and asks whether you want her too.

“Yes.”

Her hand slides into your hair as she kisses you, familiar and sure, while Mingi stays behind you with his hands on your waist. The kisses overlap without becoming confused. Neither reaches for the other. Every touch comes back to you, and when you whisper that you need both of them, Mingi pulls back enough to look at your face while Wynter keeps one hand against the back of your neck.

He asks whether you are sure, and Wynter asks whether this is desire or panic. You swallow before telling them the truth. “Both. I’m scared, and I want you. I want something that still feels like mine.”

They give you another second to change your mind.

You do not.

You make it to the bedroom slowly because nobody seems capable of going more than a few steps without touching you again. Mingi catches you by the waist in the hallway and kisses you until your back meets the wall, one hand spread low against your spine while Wynter presses her mouth against the side of your neck. By the time you reach the bed, your shirt is half untucked and your breathing has changed completely.

Mingi sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you between his knees, his hands sliding beneath your shirt before he looks up and asks if you still want this. You tell him, “I want this. I want both of you,” and he lifts the shirt over your head. Wynter steps behind you and unhooks your bra, kissing between your shoulder blades while the straps slide down your arms, and Mingi cups one of your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth.

Your breath catches as his tongue circles before he sucks harder, your fingers sliding into his hair while Wynter’s hands move over your waist. She kisses the side of your neck and waits at the waistband of your pants until you nod. Together they work the rest of your clothes off, Mingi pulling your pants down your legs while Wynter slides your underwear away.

Wynter pulls you toward her by the hips and kisses you while her hand moves between your thighs. Her fingers slide through your pussy once, slow enough that your knees soften, and the sound you make against her mouth pulls a low curse from Mingi. Wynter smiles into the kiss before rubbing her thumb over your clit. “There she is,” she murmurs, and your hips push toward her hand before you can answer.

Mingi comes onto the bed behind you and kisses your shoulder while Wynter keeps touching you. His hand cups your breast as Wynter slides two fingers inside you, and your head falls back against his chest. You grip his thigh with one hand and Wynter’s wrist with the other while she curls her fingers inside you. “Fuck,” you breathe, pushing against her hand. “Right there.”

She keeps the same angle while Mingi kisses along your jaw. When you tell him you want more, Wynter pulls her fingers free and he takes over at your clit while she moves around you on the bed. You reach backward for her without looking, and she takes your hand before leaning in to kiss you while Mingi works you higher.

You come with his fingers on your clit and Wynter’s mouth against yours. Your thighs clamp around his hand while Wynter holds your face between her palms, and Mingi keeps touching you until your hips start twitching away from him. Only then does he slow.

You catch your breath against Wynter’s shoulder before turning toward Mingi. His pants are still on, and when your eyes drop to the shape beneath the fabric, his mouth twitches. You reach for his waistband and answer the question already on his face with one word. “You.”

He lets you undress him, helping only when you push his pants and underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard, and you wrap your hand around him. His head tips back slightly as you stroke him while Wynter stays behind you with one hand at your hip, watching without touching him.

When Mingi catches your hips before you climb over him and reminds you about the condom, Wynter reaches toward the nightstand and places one in your hand. You tear the wrapper open and roll it down his cock yourself before straddling him.

His hands settle at your waist. “Still sure?”

You lower yourself onto him.

The first stretch makes you stop halfway, palms flattening against his chest while your body adjusts. Mingi rubs slow circles into your hips instead of pushing, and you sink lower until he is fully inside you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a second.

He watches your face. “Good?”

“So fucking good.”

You begin to ride him slowly, rolling your hips until you find the angle that makes him fill you deepest. His hands stay at your waist without controlling the rhythm, but when he thrusts upward to meet you, the harder movement pulls a gasp from your mouth. You look down at him and tell him to do it again.

He does.

Wynter moves behind you on the bed, her hands sliding along your sides before cupping your breasts. Her thumbs brush over your nipples as Mingi keeps meeting your hips from beneath, and your head tips back toward her shoulder as the rhythm gets rougher.

When your movements start losing their precision, Wynter slides one hand down your stomach and finds your clit while Mingi is still buried inside you. Your whole body jerks, and when she starts to slow, you catch her wrist and pull her hand back where you need it. “No. Don’t stop.”

She does not.

Mingi keeps fucking up into you while Wynter rubs your clit in tight circles. You brace one hand against his chest and reach behind you for Wynter’s thigh with the other, your breathing turning ragged as your pussy clenches around him.

He feels it and groans. “You’re close.”

You nod.

Wynter kisses your shoulder and keeps the same rhythm. “Come, baby.”

The orgasm hits hard enough to fold you forward over Mingi, your body clenching around his cock while Wynter keeps touching you until your thighs begin to shake. Mingi swears beneath you, his hips jerking upward as you tighten around him.

He comes seconds later, gripping your hips while he thrusts deep beneath you, the sound he makes low against your chest. You stay over him until the tension leaves his body and the room settles into heavy breathing.

Wynter kisses the back of your shoulder while Mingi runs one hand along your thigh. You lift yourself carefully off him and collapse onto the mattress, and Wynter immediately curls beside you. Mingi gets rid of the condom, cleans up, then returns to settle on your other side.

Neither reaches across you for the other.

Wynter’s hand rests against your stomach while Mingi strokes his thumb along your hip, and you lie between them feeling wrung out and warm. The fear is still there, but it is no longer the only thing inside your body.

Your phone vibrates somewhere beyond the bedroom.

Nobody moves.

It vibrates again, and this time you do not even open your eyes.

Wynter presses a kiss into your hair while Mingi covers your hand with his. “They can wait,” she murmurs.

For once, you let them.