Emmy🎀

The world is spinning. Like a sinking whirlpool in a cup. 

It’s colours you cannot describe. Not the beige of sand, not the green of verdure. It swirls and pulses, moving like eddies in water. 

The feeling against your hands is hard, cool and smooth like a precious metal. You have never felt one quite this large. Your eyes adjust to the light, and realise the swirling, pulsing colours are what you feel against your hand, the hard expanse growing as your eyes lift to take in the ground. It does not sink under your weight, does not bend to swallow you. 

You run your fingers against it, your nails make a clinking sound against the material. Not brick, not cement. Something else entirely. 

Your breathing is shallow, but easy. The air is rich, like the blue of water and the sting of a strong tea. It glides in and out like it was concocted for you. 

Eyes migrating, the ground stretches out like a never ending desert, empty on all ends. You are still in your tunic, however, you note the prominent rips and shreds hanging off your body. For the damage to your clothes, your skin looks pristine, not a scratch or bleed. You feel no pain. 

The horizon is a bleak colourless sky, the pulsing ground giving the impression that you’re moving upwards. Nothing around you explains what this place is, how you got here, and why you are without maim. 

You blink once and open your eyes to the same nothingness, twice, thrice. 

The fourth time, you blink hard, screwing your eyes together tightly, like this was a nightmare you can force yourself to wake up from. Back in your chambers, back to the bank of the Nile, back to your doomed reality. 

The fourth time, you open your eyes to a man made of molten gold. 

This nightmare only seems to intensify. 

His stance is between a statue and a human, alive like man, crafted like granite. He’s in a tunic that appears to be made of pure gold, the hard metal turned into a fabric that moves with him. Golden thread, thinner than hair, wind and twist around his bare arms, writhing into his hair and face, pulsing and glowing like it was a breathing thing.

The nightmare is beautiful till you reach his face. 

The easy, rich air has suddenly turned stale and non-existent. You cannot comprehend what you see. The scene does not register. For his face is molded to look like a man, yet you have never witnessed anything like it. 

The men you have seen have had their skin red and raw from days under the sun. Bleached hair from the rays, a rugged look to them. But this one, this one seems to be favoured by the skies. Warmth kisses his face like a lover, the perfect meld of colour that makes him glow like the metal string that twists around him. 

For the scintillating beacon that is his presence, his eyes are two hollow wells of obsidian. So dark they appear to be voids lacking light and shadow. 

All of a sudden, the rich, saturated air is gone. You cannot breathe, cannot force your nose to take in air and expel what is left within you. You have the incomprehensible feeling of being struck square in the chest, hard. The tightness in your chest is only worsening, almost painful to bear. 

But you cannot look away. 

You don’t remember when, but you’ve moved up from your crouched position on hands and knees and pushed yourself backwards instead. 

The atmosphere washes over your body with no cage, the heat in your body vibrating the very blood under your skin. 

The psychedelic vision has its body turned towards you, as though waiting for you to acknowledge it first. 

But the voice is trapped in your throat. You don’t want to acknowledge it, you want to scream, but you seem to have left it in the river bank with the water and crocodiles. 

It’s too much, the vision is engulfing your entire being. You don’t understand what you feel, but for a horrifying moment, you prefer going back to the wide jaws and rows of teeth. You’re hyperventilating, dry mouth and throat. 

Black splotches appear in your vision, and you know there’s nothing you can do to stop it. 

You lose consciousness in front of what you can only believe to be your own disbelief, staring right at you.

When it comes to you and Wonwoo you both have some similarities, but are also quite different. You both have jobs online. Wonwoo is a successful streamer, and you're known for your spicy paid subscription website. You've been on online fans, and working as a cam girl for a few years now. You've managed to absolutely make bank, and have built quite the online following even away from your site.

You and Wonwoo have quite a few mutual friends. It turns out he's had a crush on you for a while. Once Seungcheol found out, he decided to introduce you two.

The first time you crossed patches was at Seungcheol's birthday party. You're not dumb, you're well aware of who Wonwoo is. There is something about a cute nerdy gamer with glasses, who clearly has the body of a Greek god, that does something to you.

You’ve found yourself being a silent viewer in a few of his streams.

At Seungcheol’s party, you learned Wonwoo was interested in you, but you aren't in a place with your career where you could try and navigate having a boyfriend.

The entire night Wonwoo flirted and eventually you exchanged numbers. You let him know then that you weren't looking for any type of connection with anyone.

It's been six months since you met, and it turns out you couldn't push Wonwoo away. He’s turned into someone you texted often, and even flirt with all the time.

It turns out when you only have sex with yourself and toys, you start to get pent up.

THE GIRL ON THE SCREEN

Wonwoo is hosting a game night at his, and his best friend Mingyu’s apartment. You picked out your outfit with the intention of possibly trying to get laid. You've been debating on crossing the line with Wonwoo for a while. Tonight finally feels like the night.

The boys live in a pretty big three bedroom apartment. It seems their entire friend group plus some of the boys significant others are here.

The first person you see is Seungcheol. He leads you into the kitchen where Wonwoo is talking to Seokmin. The moment Wonwoo's eyes lock on yours you have his full, undivided attention.

What was supposed to be a game night quickly turns into a night of drinking games. The more you drink the drunker you get. The more alcohol that floats through your veins, the more you flirt with Wonwoo.

The whole time he's talking to you, your eyes just focus on his pretty lips, and how he's nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You want Wonwoo so bad, you could scream.

-

The light peaking through the curtain slowly wakes you up. Your eyes flutter open and you're hit with the realization you're not in your room. Lifting the covers you see that you're fully naked.

The clicking sounds of the keyboard catch your attention. Looking over into the corner, you see Wonwoo on his computer. The scrambled memories of last night start flooding back to you.

Wonwoo turns in his chair removing his headphones. He tilts his head looking at you. "Good morning, sunshine."

Slowly you sit up in his bed, holding the covers up. "Did we have sex?"

"No, you were drunk and I refused to even kiss you while you were intoxicated." He says firmly.

"Why am I naked?" He turns his chair around so he's fully facing you.

"Because after you tried to kiss me, you thought if you got fully naked, I would fuck you."

The memories of what happened between you are sparse, but you remember some of it. Awkwardly, you look around the room. Wonwoo's room looks exactly how you thought it would. Seungcheol always jokes and calls him a neat freak, and it looks like nothing is out of place in his room. It even looks like he's folded your clothes and placed them on his dresser.

You look at the other side of where Wonwoo's phone is sitting on the nightstand. "I slept in the living room on the couch."

"Oh." Turns out Wonwoo is a gentleman and respectful.

"I came in here so we could talk once you’d woke up."

Holding the blanket close to your chest, you get a little more comfortable. You know there is no way you can get out of talking after you clearly threw yourself at him last night.

"What did you want to talk about?" You try to play innocent.

He rolls his eyes. "I don't know, maybe the fact you threw yourself at me last night."

"I thought you liked me?" Wonwoo's made it very clear in the past he's interested in you.

He pushes himself up from the chair. Without thinking your eyes travel up and down his body. He's dressed in a pair of God forsaken grey sweatpants and a tight tank top that shows off his glorious shoulders.

"See, here's the thing—I like you, a lot actually." He pauses, stopping at the foot of the bed. You know there is a but coming. There is no way he'll leave it just at that. "But I only mess around with girls who behave."

Your brows knit together, processing his change in tone. You've never heard him sound so stern. "Am I not a good girl?"

"No."

"I literally put myself on a silver platter for you."

He cocks his head to the side. "A good girl wouldn't have pouted and called me a virgin, because I wouldn't fuck her while she was drunk." You most definitely don't remember saying that to him. A hot wave of blush crawls up your neck.

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you were a good girl until last night." He reaches out, grabbing your chin. "I know that you play with yourself online before I met you, I'd seen some of your videos. None of your them ever made me think that you would be a brat." His words are firm. Your eyes go wide, taking in each and every word he says.

"I didn't think you were some hard dom." You retort.

He narrows his eyes, as a smirk tugs at his lips. "I'm not normally a hard dom. I like control in the bedroom, but if you behave I won't have to be hard on you."

He turns on his heels walking to his dresser. You watch carefully as he pulls out a box. He grabs what looks to be a vibrator wand, handcuffs and a bottle of lube.

"Are you going to fuck me?" You let the blanket fall, leaving your chest fully exposed.

He glances over his shoulder. "Do you still want me to fuck you?"

"Please." If Wonwoo only fucks girls he considers to be "good girls" you must be on your best behavior for him.

"Say it." He turns around, holding the handcuffs.

"Say what?"

"Ask me, tell me you want this." He raises his brows.

Without saying anything you push the covers off, leaving your naked body fully on display. "Wonwoo, I want you to fuck me. I'll be so good for you. Just please fuck me." You've never been one to beg, but right now, you'll do anything he asks of you.

He moves toward the bed without saying another word. "We'll use the traffic light system. At any point if something is too much, you need to tell me. I'm not sure what you're used to, but I'm in control."

Silently you nod.

"Use your words."

"I understand, sir." His eyes light up at the use of sir.

"You're a quick learner, princess. I need to know, what are your boundaries."

"I like choking, but don't be super rough with it. You can slap my ass, but not my face." You pause, suddenly feeling embarrassment crawl up your throat.

"Keep going."

"You can be rougher with how you fuck me. No gross stuff please. Oh and don't call me mean names. Like I don't want be fully degraded."

"Are you okay with princess, good girl, and brat?"

"Yeah, those are fine."

"Can I put you in handcuffs and edge you?"

"Yeah."

Holding the handcuffs out towards you, he nods his head. "Give me your hands." He clicks the cold metal against your skin. They're tight, but not tight enough to hurt. "If they hurt just tell me. Communication is key here."

"Yes, sir."

He goes to take off his glasses. "Please leave them on." You can't escape the thought of him wearing his glasses whilst doing the dirtiest things to you.

"Okay. Lay down, and do not touch me."

Quickly you obey him. Laying on the bed you spread your legs, giving him full access to your needy core. He walks over to the dresser, picking up the vibrator and the bottle of lube before returning and sitting them on the bed next to you.

Your eyes stay focused on him as he pulls off his tank top. Taking his time, he neatly folds it and sets it on top of the dresser, next to your clothes.

Placing his knee on the bed, he crawls towards you slowly. He stops once he's sitting on his knees between your spread legs. His large hand rests on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, helping to relax you. You aren't sure why you're so nervous. Maybe it’s because this is the first time you're ever letting a man fully take control.

Picking up the vibrator, he clicks it on. "Color?"

"Green."

He presses the vibrator directly against your clit, earning a moan instantly. He doesn't give you a moment to breathe before he clicks up the speed. Your body tenses immediately.

Your lips part, sinful moans and whimpers filling the room. He unexpectedly drags two fingers through your folds. Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back.

Without thinking your push your hips up towards the vibrator.

"Don't." His words catch you off guard. Your eyes snap open and you see him glaring at you. "Don't try and get yourself off. You'll take what I give you."

"Yes, sir."

Two fingers are suddenly pushed into you, earning a wanton moan. He clicks the vibration speed up another level, as he drags his fingers in a come hither motion, touching that spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"Let me know when you're close."

"Okay." You whine.

The feeling of his fingers and the vibration is too much, your orgasm is speeding towards you at one hundred miles per hour.

"I'm gonna cum." You cry.

The precipice of your orgasm is rapidly approaching, suddenly everything stops. He rips the vibrator and, fingers away from your needy core. Your orgasm is right there, and he stopped everything.

Your eyes fly open, and you look at him confused. You know he said he would edge you, but you thought he would change his mind.

"Wonwoo—" you cry.

"You're such a good girl, you didn't cum without my permission." He taunts you. Your eyes are wide, you try your hardest to process the situation. "Can you do that again?" You aren't sure if you can, but you'll try anything for him.

He puts the vibrator against your needy clit again. He goes back to his same task of pumping his fingers in and out of you, except this time he's added another finger— this orgasm barreling towards you quicker then the last.

Before you can even tell him you're close he stops everything. Every nerve in your body feels like a live wire. Tears brim your eyes. Another orgasm being ripped away from you is devastating.

“Fuck—“ you cry.

“Such a filthy mouth.” He says teasing you.

He pushes the vibrator back onto your clit. He has the speed all the way up. This orgasm is going to hit you like a freight train. He pumps three fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace.

All the muscles in your body are tense. It’s taking everything in you, to not lift your hips, attempting to chase your release.

"Wonwoo, please let me cum. I'll be so fucking good for you if you let me cum." Tears spring from your eyes. You pull your hands up towards you. If you keep your hands anywhere near him, you know you'll try to grab him.

He rips the vibrator away from your clit and tosses it on the bed. This time he doesn't remove his fingers. He keeps pumping them.

"You can cum princess." He dives in face first into your core. His lips lock around your clit. He's practically making out with your pussy, whilst he pushes you over the edge.

The white hot wave of your orgasm is excruciating. Your walls pulse around his as your head is thrown back moaning his name. He doesn't let up on your clit. He keeps sucking until it’s overstimulated and sore.

"Wonwoo." You cry, squirming underneath him.

He pulls back, sitting back on his knees. Sliding his fingers into his mouth, he licks them clean of your release.

"Pretty baby, can barely handle being edged." He teases.

No words form, silently you blink at him, processing everything that's happening. He turns around stripping away the rest of his clothes.

When he turns around you're greeted to the sight of his massive cock. This is by far the biggest cock you've ever seen with your own eyes.

"Should I grab a condom?"

"I'm clean. I haven't slept with a man in over a year." It's probably dumb to fuck without a condom the first time, but all the logical thoughts left your brain long ago.

"You sure?" He raises his brow.

"Yes, I want you to cum inside me."

He barks out a laugh. Walking closer to the bed, he reaches out and grabs the chain that holds the hand cuffs together. "I'm going to lock your hands above your head. If it's too much, you have to tell me."

"Yes, sir."

He hoist your hands above your head. He hooks the chains into a hook you didn't even realize was built into the headboard.

"You've done this before?" You ask.

"Many times." He smiles.

"Wonwoo?"

"Yes, princess?" He's standing over you.

"You haven't even kissed me." There is something quite humorous about the fact that he's already made you cum and you haven't even kissed.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Please."

Without another word he leans in, pressing his lips to yours for a searing kiss. His hands holds your face as your lips dance together. He kisses you like you’re air in his oxygen-deprived lungs. Pulling back, his teeth tug on your bottom lip.

"Happy?"

"Yes."

He picks up the bottle of lube, clicking it open he coats his entire length. You're going to need all the help you can get, taking someone his size.

He pours some of the cold lube on your core, earning a gasp from you. "Oh—"

"I'm big, so this might hurt."

"I can take you." Even if it hurts you don't care. You'll make him fit.

"Such an eager girl.” He tosses the lube on the bed next to you. "Keep your legs spread wide."

He pushes in slowly, giving you time to adjust. He goes in inch by inch. The moment you're filled to the brim, it feels like he's splitting you open.

Out of instinct, your hands tug against the handcuffs. "Are you okay?" His voice is soft and gentle.

"Yeah. Just—" your brain is having a hard forming words. He's managed to leave you cock drunk. "You're so big."

A smile tugs at his lips. "Am I too big for you?" He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"No—" you cry.

"Color."

"Green, green." You stutter out. If he stops now, you'll break down crying.

"Did you want me to move, or do you still need time to adjust?" His hand that rests on your thighstarts rubbing soothing circles again.

"Please move, I'll be so good for you if you move." You can't help but beg.

He gives you a smile before he pulls his hips back and slams back into you roughly, knocking you back. He keeps a quick and brutal pace. With each thrust your breasts bounce.

Grabbing your leg, he hooks it over his arms. He keeps snapping his hips into you, over and over.

There is a weird contrast as he leans down kissing the top of your knee gently.

He's so big, he's touching parts inside of you that you didn't know could be reached. Your hands tighten into a fist as you try not to cum too early.

Out of nowhere he drops your leg. Your eyes fly open, looking at him confused.

"Color?"

"Green."

He stops moving for a moment. He's still sitting on his knee, snug inside you, but he moves so he's hovering over you. He snaps his hips back into you.

"Fuck—" you can't help but moan.

He takes your breast in his large hand. He gropes the flesh, earning wanton moans from you. This is the best sex you've ever had in your life.

"Wonwoo—" you cry.

"Does Princess want to cum?" He taunts you.

"Please, I'm so close."

"You can cum." He snaps his hips harder.

The cry that leaves your lips is loud. You're hit with the realization that Mingyu might be home. You pray that he left long before you and Wonwoo started fucking.

This orgasm hits harder then anything you've ever experienced before. You see spots as your walls flutter against his cock like a heartbeat.

Tilting your head back, you leave the delicate skin of your neck fully exposed. Without saying a word, his large hand wraps around your throat. He applies just enough pressure to send you futher over the edge.

"Fuck— fuck." You cry out.

He doesn't stop moving. He keeps thrusting into you, over and over as you ride out your high.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He ask, leaning in even closer to you.

"Inside." You cry.

He releases your neck and drops down to his elbows, so he is plastered against you. He slows down a little, rolling his hips into you as he chases his release.

His lips crash into yours for another heated kiss. Your tongues slide together, muffling your moans.

His thrusts get more sloppy as he gets closer to finding his release. "I'm going to fill you up." He moans against your lips.

True to his word, he fills you like you've never been filled before. He keeps thrusting into you as he paints your walls with his milky release. He came so much, it's starting to leak out around his cock.

It takes a few moments for him to slowly stop moving. He pulls away from you and reaches up for your hands. He releases the chain from the hook and slowly brings your hands towards him. He unlocks the handcuffs and gently rubs your wrist, focusing on the spot where the metal started to bite your skin. He places gentle kisses on both wrists. This is the complete opposite of the man who just fucked you until you cried.

"How are you feeling?" He's still inside you, he hasn't tried to move.

"Like my legs probably don't work." You let out a little laugh. “Please tell me Mingyu isn’t home.”

“He left hours ago.”

He leans in and presses his lips to yours for another kiss. "You're way nicer now." You say with your lips against his.

"It's because you were a good girl."

"I'll always be your good girl, if you'll fuck me like that." Reaching up, you tangle your fingers in his fluffy hair. It feels nice to actually touch him.

"So was this a one time thing?" He asks as he pulls back from you.

"No."

Slowly he pulls out of you. He sits back on his knees, watching as his release starts slowly sliding out of you. He takes two fingers and scoops it up, pushing it back inside.

"Don't waste it." He says, giving you a wicked smile.

"I need a shower." You sigh.

"Let's shower together, and then I'll take you out for breakfast."He holds his hand out towards you.

"Like a date?" You push yourself up, immediately realizing how sore you are.

"Yeah, if you want me to fuck you again we have to go a date."

You can't help but smile. For someone who just dom’ed the hell out of you, he's acting pretty cute right now.

"I would like to go out with you."

Things are definitely going to change after this, but you're okay with that. Clearly what you and Wonwoo have is special.

Your work card digs into the muscles of your hand, its corners eroded from all the times you've walked the same path with the same fear. It stopped hurting months after getting it, the scars on your palm long cured. You've never once needed to show it, no one to question you is ever around, but they know who you are and where you're going.

It'd be completely silent, save for the buzzing of the blueish green and purple screens that surround every other building. Shining white teeth smile at you from the billboards, promotions of Cerebrum's latest update flashing one after another beside happy customers.

The LED lights mask the colorless reality in Prism. Below the gray smog that covers the sky and every building higher than three floors up, very few apartments seem lived in. You pass by them every day, every lifeless day, and they never change. Shoebox-shaped apartments got popular after the rise of Cerebrum's new life mode. Why have expensive, big, homes when the digital world gives you everything you need? Your bed stuck by your sister's is the everyday proof, yet you're the only one bothered by it. She and your mother never wake up from the cable-induced slumber, they don't see how the real world turned out to look like.

The company spent months, money and seemingly endless resources recreating every pixel to match everywhere in the country. And then spent more months blaming the state of the cities on the population, with Prism's government's support. Water, food, jobs, all went scarce at the same time as the digital world became available for anyone who owned any of Cerebrum's technology.

You don't blame those who prefer to spend their lives plugged in. Why spend your days in dead streets when you could be cities away in the blink of an eye, where the sun shines uninterrupted, where jobs don't risk your life, where time doesn't show on your skin and changing your appearance is as simple as choosing your new feature from a menu. The digital world seemed to satisfy the population's needs, and the Government's. It seemed to solve working families' issues while they got ignored by those who vowed to protect them. Once the devices to enter the digital world were well spread, jobs and housing for the population kept raking down priority lists.

It should be 7 am according to your analog clock. You haven't seen the sun in years. Would it be up by now? Or would your journey in the dimly lit streets be dark anyway?

You hear your workplace before you see it. The tall building buzzes so loudly its sounds echo even a street away. Then, the only building powerful enough to shine through their smoke comes to view.

The skyscraper is undeniably beautiful, with glass windows and delicate light arrangements on the sides. The one time you plugged yourself in and strolled around the digital world, you thought its pixels were underwhelming in comparison. It's a shame only few people choose to see it in real life. It's a shame that, everyday you come into work, the marvel disappears each second you spend downstairs.

The front door beeps in warning as you come close. Once upon a time, before you were of age to work, there used to be a real life guard at the door to check everyone's work cards. At least that's what your mom says. Now there's just a laser scanner that matches your card to your retina scan.

"Cerebrum's happy to have you," the AI voice welcomes you with its eerie happiness.

You used to smile back at the cameras, sure that someone real had to be monitoring the employees. You don't have it in you to be polite to machines anymore.

Inside, three elevators come to view behind the receptionist's hologram. Its green hand points to the one you're supposed to take. The metal doors open for you without pressing a button, and next thing you know, the elevator takes you down to where it knows you go every day of the week.

There are days you spend without hearing your voice, or any voice. There are wild days when you wish one of the soldiers roaming the streets finds you so you had an excuse to say something longer than a sentence. There are others, the rarer ones, when you dare to wish your family would unplug from Cerebrum and you could spend a normal day. Never once do you wish to become a pixel, even when your responsibilities need you to.

Working seems more and more like the only thing you wait for, the only place where being alone with people permanently on mute doesn't drag your will to live through the mud. Sad, really.

The metal doors open to let you through, but the sight before you is not what you expect. For a second, you view the monitor room. Computer screens show flashes of green tapes, streets all across the city with someone walking by. Your suspicions were correct, someone is watching the streets. Only a chair is occupied by a uniformed, who slowly turns back to catch your eyes through his black leather mask before the elevator dings once again and closes its doors.

Damn it. All the time you spent following the rules for you to get in trouble for a once in a lifetime malfunction. Cameras are never seen, not even in the office, yet you now have confirmation that they're real, and they are recording. A security guard caught you peeking at the security footage. You don't know what floor that was or what they do with the information, only that the next time the doors open, you see familiar rows of cubicles across the room. There's only one thing you can do, and it's pretending nothing happened. Your security now depends on one man who you trust doesn't want to get in trouble for allowing a security breach.

You're not the first one to arrive on your floor. Multiple stares find yours from their desks, the small wrinkles by their eyes the only greeting you get. You smile politely and walk to your desk with your head down.

Keyboards tick from every booth, yet you doubt any of them have a real assignment, it's been months since you got one yourself. You spend the time reviewing old algorithms and updating them to the current system, small fixes that you're probably the only one to notice their purpose, but that make daily devices faster to use.

Three taps on the floor from the cubicle by your left perk your ears up. Morgan gets up and walks to the bathroom. You don't look her way, maintaining your hands in place as you type nonsense onto an empty code sheet and delete it right after. You know what it means when you steal a glance and notice her red pen missing.

As long as your computer shows itself active, she shouldn't have problems, otherwise, someone would've caught up to the task-less team you're a part of.

Her walk back to the desk disrupts the silent office, but you can't do anything more than waiting. Everyone knows. The air gets tense. Every tap of your foot signals another second has passed. You can't do anything yet. It's too early.

But you need to warn someone before it's too late.

You get up at the ninetieth tap, over ten before you're supposed to. The imprints of her feet are almost visible on the green hairs of the carpeted floor. She didn't take long there. She couldn't have known what happened before you got in. And no one else came in here.

The skin of your back flares with goosebumps as you open the restroom door. You can't be visibly upset. You force your face to seem calm as you turn so the cameras don't notice anything unusual.

You don't take a normal breath until the door closes shut.

One of the stalls is closed. That's where Morgan wanted you to go.

You enter the one on its right and crawl under the side-wall to find where the note awaits.

Meet at the Park later. Storm warned of bad news.

Bad news.

The note system has its limitations, being detailed is out of limits. But Morgan didn't write about anyone in particular. Her inside contact either didn't tell her about your encounter, or preferably, they didn't hear about it. She's not your friend, she relays important information the company doesn't want the workers to know. If you were in trouble, she'd tell you. There's a 50/50 chance your ass isn't on the line. Not bad odds, taking in account Cerebrum's history.

You take the note, drop it in the water and flush. If there were other coworkers Morgan wanted to tell, she'd find another way.

Making sure nothing sounds out of the ordinary, you wash your hands a respectable amount of time and walk back to your seat. In a few hours you'll meet Morgan in the Park and find out what she knows.

As long as your computer stays active, it won't ring any alarms.

Pretending to work around the plugging codes, the sheet takes you to a string of numbers you've familiarized with since the new normal made its appearance. You shouldn't risk checking in on your family, wasting time on codes you make sure again and again don't harm their well-being.

They're okay. You make sure of that.

The company's (and the population's) focus slowly shifted to the pixel world once the people ultimately started depending on it. Pixel jobs and pixel money and pixel lives became the substitute to a reality pushed to fail.

It's been almost two months since the last time your mother and sister spent time unplugged. Not the longest that has ever passed. You wish you had an excuse to bring them out, to say that it's unhealthy, that something's wrong and it's not safe, but you can't prove it.

They don't know how much you work for them to live as they please. For all they care, you spend your days stuck in Cerebrum's basement, which may not be far from the truth, but really is a naive conception when you can do unimaginable things with a computer and little supervision. They can't know. They won't. Ever.

Do they think about you? When they're roaming around the perfectly set up parks and going to their instant Looks appointments? When they come back to a home bigger than you could ever imagine and find your room empty? The chances are low.

You barely talked the last time they unplugged to charge their cells. You don't have anything in common anymore. They hate the real world, and you can't blame them.

You don't blame them. You've done more to keep them there than anyone else. They didn't even have to charge their cells the last time, you had already made sure they're always plugged in and with multiple backup batteries just in case.

The codes running in front of you look like they do every day: perfect. Not one line break, not one error, not one fixable thing. You can't see their lives, their pixel jobs and pixel hobbies, and now, there's not even a thing you can do to make sure they don't get in trouble. You can only watch their bodies sleeping inside your shoebox apartment, listening to their breathing and trying to remember their voices.

The pavement, hard and wet, strains your leg muscles with each step. Your lungs struggle to catch up to the pace, but you have to arrive fast. If the cameras see you—which they will, because they exist and someone is always watching—everyone will be busted.

You arrive at the Park not ten minutes after clocking out.

Beyond the pavement horizon, the abandoned mall just outside Prism was supposed to be the big expansion, the bridge to connect the city with its neighbors, before every connection got forged over pixels. The unfinished building first got swarmed with groups who couldn't afford the newest technology, spending their nights inhaling Blue Smoke, until the government realized it wasn't profitable anymore.

The dark gray walls contrast everything you walked past; no led lights, no Cerebrum propaganda, no scanners or holograms to welcome strangers, just a fossil representing what life was supposed to be like.

You slide your black beanie over your head, put on your face mask and tech glasses to hide your face, and enter through an empty window shop. Glass shards and broken Smoke bulbs dig under your feet, announcing your entrance to the ghosts, but the intrusion ends unwelcomed. You grab the last reflecting gear on the only rack in use and put it on as fast as possible.

Through the glass of the never-to-be clothing shop, the dim lights that always stay on let you see into the patio. A decent sized group talks in unheard whispers, all with undistinguishable matching gears. You couldn't pick out Morgan from the group even if you tried, and the rest of them you've never seen without the gear.

The building got abandoned since the Government cleaned the streets from Smoke. They gave them something else to be addicted to, something with no trace in real life, something that isn't real. Frostbite regularly met there, far from the cameras, where no interest was shown, out of reach from the power houses that held everyone's life in their cables.

Someone nods in your direction and everyone acknowledges you as they open their standing circle to let you in.

You'd hoped to meet Morgan alone. Frostbite's plans always sound foreign to you, as you're barely a source from Cerebrum, not an organizer, and whatever Morgan warned you about felt personal. You're lucky they trust you enough to let you in, let you listen, but chances of bothering Cerebrum enough to act are always slim, and you just want to hear the bad news.

They're muttering about the best way to recruit the few people left on the street when the building shakes and a deafening buzzing sound paralyzes you whole.

There's only one thing that'd result in an unimportant building's bombing. They found you. They finally found you and the others. You don't hear any shooting sounds, you don't see any raised guns, but the air stills with their search for Frostbite. It's cold, silence trickled with the building crumbling down. You won't hear them coming. Their uniforms were made to take any rebels by surprise.

You follow Morgan and find the back of the clothing shop. Everyone knows what to do, and, in silence, you search for the planned way out. Behind dusty common clothes and empty fashion racks should be a door you wished you never had to use.

The underground tunnel is dark and empty, the sound of the door closing shut following each step everyone takes. There's nowhere to hide down here, no walls to shield you, no other doors to unknown rooms, only an endless liminal space in which the lack of lighting only works against Frostbite. But it's the only way out.

An echo should reach you of any following parties, but there's nothing. Maybe they hadn't reached the clothing store when you left. Maybe you were being paranoid, yet you don't stop running.

Run straight ahead, that's what Morgan had told you once, when forcing you to learn their protocols against your will. Run straight ahead and don't get caught. Forcing your legs to follow the reflecting gears ahead of you, you swallow a chuckle. It wasn't supposed to be serious. You listened to Morgan, hoping to calm down her paranoid spirit. Rebel attacks were unheard of. No one dared, and neither the Government or Cerebrum cared enough. But the building shakes again, and you barely miss a piece of ceiling falling on top of you, and you understand it.

Attacks were unheard of because they happened in this way. Away from the city, away from anything that could mess with Cerebrum's databases, in places no one cared about.Frostbite will end without accomplishing their goal, without making any noise, and without a goodbye.

Someone trips far behind you. You don't look back, but hear them struggling to get up. The tunnel crumbles all the way around, falling dust and pieces of cement clouding your sight and hearing.

Far ahead, a gray ray of sun makes its way though the smoke. The fallen person wails in pain, now so far behind only the echo makes its way forward. A red dot dances on the side of the tunnel, searching for an unmoving target. It doesn't give you time to thank the reflecting gear. The shot of a gun overwhelms any worries of the tunnel falling down on you. You hear no gunmen, yet the red dot lingers after the screams behind you quiet down.

As the end of the tunnel gets clearer, you sprint faster. A few Frostbite run past you, none of them looking back. You follow the dim light with as much hope as you enter your home every day—the shot was enough warning. You're being either run off the city or killed.

Is there even a plan after this? You failed to listen to what was being talked about when you arrived. You don't really know anything, do you? You were never in on the plans, you just followed the simplest orders, got the information they needed and went back to work. And, most probably, Cerebrum had a target on your back after your peek at the surveillance room.

Work.

Cerebrum will never take you back. You can't go back, even if you wanted to. You'll be dead, exiled, or searched for on every corner of every city under its power. You can never check on your family again. Your mom and sister will be left there, somnolently hooked into Cerebrum's machines. It'll be months before any of them wake up, you made sure of that. They won't worry if they don't see your pixel self, because you're never there. The longer you spent working, putting up excuses whenever they insisted on being there with them, the less they cared when you didn't. It's just another one of your disappearances.

You look back with terror, seeing nothing more than countless red dots waiting for you to fall. They won't leave anyone alive. The ceiling shakes once more, and you know they brought as many bombs as they needed to erase every trace left of the mission.

Bigger and bigger pieces of the tunnel fall to your sides, and your legs, starting to give out, barely help you dodge them.

What are you going to do if you escape? Your new life would consist of nothing. You'll must become no one. Maybe Frostbite would let you be one of them, if they make it. You'll be away from home, with a family that won't look for you, surrounded by capable people that you don't know, holding them back because you can barely run in a tunnel before starting to give up. You're not made for it.

You trip on a broken piece of gravel and lose your balance. Your hands pillow your stumble against the wall, and you slide to the floor as the walls shake. Whoever you outran passes you without a thought. You can't look back. You didn't do it either when it didn't happen to you.

You hear it then. Between Frostbite's heaving running towards the light and the ground being coated in pieces of tunnel, the red dots find your shivering body, and the soundproof boots march towards their new found victim. The closer they get, the more your fear dissipates. There's nothing more for you to do. You helped build the empire, you helped your family live comfortably, and you helped Frostbite after you realized your mistake.

The light at the end of the tunnel blinks in acceptance. Whatever you did, it's over. The cold of the ground seeps into your veins, holding you close to it, numbing you down. Your muscles don't tense waiting for the shot. If it hurts, you don't feel it.

First, the world goes brighter, white enveloping you. Then, moving ashes coat your face before it all goes black.

Heaven's pitch black when you open your eyes.

Ice cold burns along your back. You were never someone to believe in the afterlife, but it being cold and dark wasn't your first choice.

"Can you walk?"

A voice carries faintly, its owner invisible.

"What?" You reply with a cold throat.

You don't remember the last time you spoke out loud. Alone at home, forbidden at work, your voice was as much of a stranger as the omniscient presence watching your barely moving body. A shadow hovers over you, taking shape into something more human.

"Good. You're awake," it continues. "They can't see us here, but we need to leave if you don't want to be left for dead."

"How—

"Thank me later," it interrupts, sounding arrogant as much as it sounds hurried. "Get up and follow me."

You huff. "I can't see you."

A reply doesn't come, but the barest ray of green light reflects along the person's back, a subtle shimmer that sparks not so old memories. It's the same light Frostbite's tech glasses produce, the same reflection that messes with the Uniformed's infrared glasses.

"Fuck, yours must've dropped when you fell," the person sighs after moving what sounded like pieces of rubble. "Here, take mine."

You feel a pair of hands placing the glasses along your ears and eyes. The glasses were made to level up the field for Frostbite. If yours fell before you were shot, it means your advantage is over.

It takes a few seconds for your sight to get used to the greenness, then the hands drop to grab yours and help you get up. If you're on a rush, the careful touch shows no sign of it.

"We need to get out of here before it collapses," the person urges in contrast.

"How?" However you got to where you are, there doesn't seem to be a way in or out, and with you wearing the glasses, this other person is blind.

The person chuckles, back facing you so you can't see a face. "You should've gone to more meetings."

You follow the pull of your arm through a cave within the tunnel. Even without light, the way out is no stranger to your guide, only using the walls of the cave as a map.

Not a long way ahead, rays of light tamper with your glasses, and when your guide changes course to the right, you know the tunnel is almost over. The closer you get to the outside world, the less you see through the glasses, until the blindness becomes so overpowering you have to take them off.

Sighs of relief welcome the two of you as you finally leave the darkness. Someone without gear embraces whoever saved you. Morgan sits at a distance, on the curb on an abandoned street so far away from the Park that it looks like another city entirely. As she recognizes you, she jumps in surprise, walking in your direction with her arms spread wide.

All that you were ready to leave behind, what you thought you didn't need to see again, comes back to hit you in the face.

The world you lived in for years incapacitated people from making meaningful relationships, all technology led until hearing someone's voice in reality was as intimate as a kiss. Since the second you started running through the basement, you knew. Going back isn't an option.

"I was so worried when you didn't come out after me!" Morgan's voice wakes you up into her hug. Another thing you haven't lived through for some time. "I knew there was trouble when Jeonghan didn't come out after me."

Finding your voice costs even more when you have to admit what you almost let happen. Her smile is so bright you wonder how much it took her to hide it while in Cerebrum. You'd break it further if she knew.

"I had to use the trap we set weeks back to block their view," the voice of your savior, Jeonghan, sparks a different grin from Morgan. "I already told Storm."

The person that appears into view is nothing like you expected. You'd seen the long hair at the back of his neck in the darkness of the cave, his hands had been the first touch of skin you felt in months, you'd spoken to him after being in silence every day, yet his attitude mismatches the little idea you formed of him.

Tall, slender, and unusually cocky, his smirk almost makes fun of your fall. Now out in the open, you remember him from the few meetings you had to attend, with the snarky comments he always had at hand. You should remember his codename. Even if you didn't want him to, he saved you from the Uniformeds' quiet misery.

"We would've used it anyway." Morgan pats your shoulder, relieving you of a guilt you're supposed to be feeling. "Glad you got out before we had to."

Someone calls out to her close to the cave entrance, leaving you alone with the smirk and suspicious eyes watching you. Whatever he sees, it doesn't impress him. He sits on the curb Morgan was waiting for earlier, dusting off his reflecting gear with a chuckle.

You pay no attention to him, instead, the view you came out to takes protagonism.

The Park is a minuscule gray cube on the foreground of an endless cloud of dark smoke. If you squint, you catch the light of every Cerebrum ad being broadcasted on the buildings of Prism. From the outside, it may look like a storm about to pass, but after years of pollution, you stopped seeing the marvel of the clouds. The real sun became the greatest privilege.

The city limits were loosely guarded, giving the illusion of choice. But, when most preferred to give up their minds to Cerebrum, and cameras followed the few people who decided to stay behind, no one really dared.

"Where are we?" You ask into the air.

You had gotten used to depending on the LED ads to see on the street. While smoke still covers the sky, the wind welcomes fresh air that the tall shoebox buildings forbade you of.

"On the outskirts of Devil City," Jeonghan answers without looking up.

After thousands of cities began to join Cereburm's plans, land became a valuable source of space for the power centers that fueled the pixel world. Devil was one of the few cities that fought back to not turn into an electricity wasteland. They refused to join the pixel revolution, and a while later, a series of suspicious fires were reported all along its limits that extended to the center. The smoke never cleared, and the air pollution just made it worse. Devil's fight resulted in a burned down city and a never seen again sun for kilometers, but their spirit fueled the rebellion for years.

"Devil City was destroyed by the fires."

Jeonghan chuckles, acknowledging you again. "What do you see? Because I see buildings covered in green, and high floors that we can see without smoke being a little shit. We discussed this."

You refuse to feel bad for not remembering every single detail. You didn't want this.

"I was at the meetings because you wanted information, not to be made aware of all your plans. You know that." You didn't mind being a pawn in their game. You had reasons to stay, but reasons to help someone end Cerebrum's reign as well. You never pretended to be something else.

"If you listened instead of refusing to try, you would've known we had a trap door to escape and you didn't have to play hero."

"I didn't play the hero. I couldn't get up, and they were about to shoot me!"

He chuckles again. You're beginning to hate the sound. "If this is your way of thanking me—"

"I didn't ask you to help me. I don't even know you!"

You don't remember the last time you had a long conversation with someone that wasn't your sister or your mom. Exchanging words on a post-it with Morgan was as far as you went. You forgot how to filter your inner thoughts, though Jeonghan doesn't seem to mind your screaming.

He bites his lip hiding a laugh, looking at something behind you. You realize then that he took off the reflecting gear entirely, sensing that if you looked back, you'll find every Frostbite member in the same situation, just waiting for you to get a move on.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to take off the vest. The damage is done if everyone already sees you and hears you screaming nonsense.

"No, don't stop the hissy fit on their account! We should know who we're dealing with!" Jeonghan can barely get the words out between his laughs.

"Okay, you can stop annoying her now," Morgan comes back with Storm on her side. Jeonghan immediately straightens his posture. "We need to move forward, so here are a few things we need to let her know."

"Are you sure this is Devil City?" You take the chance to speak to the only person that understands why you wanted to get left behind on the planning. "I handed you the footage of the destruction. I saw it myself."

"You did. And it really helped to get us here today," Storm answers instead of Morgan.

He's one of the few who you could never forget about. He has a face you struggle to imagine smiling, a presence that takes the joy out of everyone around him, but, most importantly, he has everyone's trust and respect. He listens to concerns and trusts each Frostbite member to follow with their tasks. Even with the small amount of meetings you attended, you'd feel safe to put your safety in his hands.

"There's a lot they hide from us. More than you imagine."

Before the events of the day, you would've tossed the thought aside. You were always more aware than most about Cerebrum's deal, willingly or not. While everyone wasted their life becoming an ageless pixel, you saw the destruction of the city in real life, the things the Government did to help the rise of Alternate Reality, not even lies, just plain hiding until people stopped questioning the missed information. You worked inside Cerebrum itself! What more could they possibly hide?

"I think I know what they do pretty well." You saw in real time how they developed their tactics, how they ran people off the streets only to get them addicted to a false life. "I've been at Cerebrum since the development stages."

You don't miss the look on Jeonghan's face.

"We believe," Morgan starts with Storm's nod of approval, "that they ran off Devil's citizens to use the city themselves."

"They wouldn't risk killing thousands that could be persuaded into buying their A.R.," Jeonghan continues, as cynical as always. "And by making us believe they can bomb a city, they made sure we never checked it out."

"So, we're…" you struggle to connect the dots.

"We have reason to believe that the heads of Cerebrum live in Devil, so we're going in." Storm doesn't explain further. He doesn't have to. "But we have to be careful. Only address each other by our code names."

"I don't have—"

"You're Lurk," Jeonghan jumps.

"You're Lurk, yes," Storm repeats after elbowing Jeonghan. "You know the rest of us only by our codes, but be careful with the real names you know. We have a safe building in the city, but the closer we get to our target, the less we know about the surveillance. We need to be prepared."

You doubt Cerebrum bothers to reinforce Devil if what Frostbite believe it's true. No one should dare to even think about Devil City. Cerebrum isn't afraid of people finding out. You just hope they believe you're dead.

Frostbite's safe building is located close to one of the fire sites, near the city limits, but not far enough that traveling towards the center would take more than half a day.

You weren't many. The meeting that was found out didn't require for everyone to be there, luckily. The ten of you that escaped moved in groups of five, walking with almost a block of distance in between. Storm took the lead on the group walking behind. Jeonghan, or rather, Carpool, was the only one who knew the way, so he led the first group. Morgan was in charge of possible traps, so she was the second to join Jeonghan's team. You didn't want to leave Morgan's side.

The night in Devil city wasn't different from Prism. You couldn't see the stars in the sky, or the shape of the moon, but you also couldn't see the building across or the street below, and that type of darkness was much more welcomed.

"Are you not attached to the hip anymore?"

The carpeted floor silenced the steps all across the hall, the only reason why Jeonghan managed to surprise you.

"I don't want to be in the room if Rain is also there."

You and Morgan were unable to sleep, retracing both of your steps in Cerebrum to try and figure out if the two of you were at fault for the attack. You had to tell her about the surveillance room you accidentally saw, but excluded the fact that there was someone there. It didn't make a difference. Seen or not by a human, they would've caught you regardless.

She was about to tell you what the news she talked about on the post-it when Vernon knocked on the door and she let him in, struggling to contain her giggles.

"I should've guessed that's where he went. Sorry about that, you won't be able to sleep." You don't answer him. There's nothing to say, but he won't take it.

Jeonghan sits down by your side, unprompted.

"I want to be alone for a second, if you don't mind." You don't have it in you to pretend.

"I do mind," he chuckles, "so, no. Plus, we have to talk about the plan for tomorrow.Yet, he doesn't keep talking, waiting for a reply.

Your head rests against the wall, eyes closed so your senses can slow down for the day. Sleeping is not a viable option, you'll dream and dream about the day, about what could've happened, about your mistakes. The least you can do is protect your side of the building, make sure Morgan can have a minute of happiness with Vernon.

But an eager breathing pattern disrupts any possible rest. Jeonghan's eyes burn holes on your side. What image of you has he made up by now?

"You don't have to babysit me."

"I have to be there in case you trip into an abyss."

"Ha, funny."

You're not ashamed about what happened in the caves. If anything, it hasn't changed anything about life at all. Seeing a future as you live through a world that does nothing more than lift up the powerful at the expense of those who they vowed to protect, is hard. No one will ever realize the length to what you started years ago, the first grain of sand that built a desert that dried out what you most loved.

Jeonghan fights against it, like Morgan, like Storm and all those who follow him. They have trust in a system that never once worked for their favor, but they learned the loopholes, the ways around the manipulation, hoping to change it from the inside.

If you've done something more than sending Cerebrum after Frostbite, you hope the information you fed them the last few months changes something. You won't be able to see it, especially if the myth about Devil City is true, but it'd be nice to help do some good for once.

Jeonghan doesn't accept another one of your silences. "Get up. Come."

"We're not supposed to leave our post." If anything happens on this side of the building, it'll be your fault. Another thing will be your fault.

"You'll regret hanging out by the door later, trust me." Jeonghan gets up and extends his hand down for you to take. "I know this building like the back of my hand, I have it covered."

He gives you no other choice.

You get up on your own, not wanting another one of your first touches in years to be with him again. Jeonghan chuckles but says nothing more, walking slightly ahead for you to follow.

The abandoned office building wasn't the biggest around, it was a little more deteriorated, and less flashy than the others. You guess that's why Jeonghan had chosen it as the perfect spot. No one in their right mind would choose such an endangered place to take cover.

The only reason you're following him is because it's true, he had scavenged every little nook and crevice of the building to find the perfect spots for everyone to rest for the night. Everyone trusted him just as much as Storm when it came to security. Yet, he didn't lead you far from the room you were supposed to sleep in.

Down the corridor to the left, through one of the men's bathrooms, there's a small balcony towering an indoor patio. Loose cables flutter against the railing, and you admire the view from above while Jeonghan turns a flashlight on in the restroom.

You welcome the silence, real silence, without buzzing sounds or humid rain splatter. The world may never recover from the consequences of air and water eating technology, but maybe, if Frostbite is right about Devil City, they can make the people responsible pay for what they've done. You just wish you wanted to be there when it happened.

Jeonghan doesn't care about the silent city. He has been breaking out out of Prism for months, he got used to having somewhere to escape to."I know what you're thinking."

"I hope you don't," you reply with snark.

"You were at Cerebrum today, right?" You nod, hoping he gets to the point fast. "The basement? At 7 a.m.?"

"Everyone here knows my work schedule. Yes, I was. That's when Morgan told me to meet at The Park."

He looks at you blankly. "Did nothing else happen? Just a normal work day?"

Your knuckles turn white along the balcony railing. He knows. Jeonghan knows you fucked up and sent Cerebrum after Frostbite.

At least he had the decency to confront you alone. You can tell the rest of the team, let them decide how to punish you for the betrayal. It wouldn't be the first time you participate in something that fucks up your entire world, you'll get used to it, just like you got used to being alone in reality.

"It was my fault, okay? Are you done? I sent Cerebrum after us because I saw something I shouldn't have. Just go and tell Storm, I don't care. I can be the bait while you go ahead with the plan.

"I knew that," he smiles. "Ask me how I knew that."

So, he likes to play games, even when you're being vulnerable in front of him, again."I don't think I like you very much."

He shrugs. "I get that a lot. Ask me."

You sigh. "How did you know? You saw the camera footage?"

"You said someone saw you. What did they look like?"

And he's not making it easy either. "I don't know. It looked like a man, all covered up in the Uniform. There was no one else there, but he was pretty much surveilling everything."

"Let me find something, hold on." Jeonghan digs into the pockets of his pants, the only part of the gear he left on. "Did he have something like this?"

In his hand, a black leather mask lay crumbled. He chuckles at your gasp, putting it over the lower part of his face.

"It was you!" You punch Jeonghan in the arm, and your lungs treasure your first deep breath in weeks.

"I can tell the guys you're fine being the bait if—

"Oh, fuck you!"

"—you're still down."

You weren't in any danger. Your mom, your sister, they're still safe in their pods, blissfully unaware of the damage you nearly caused. It wasn't your fault everything almost failed.

In the darkness, by the light only on for you two to see the way inside, a little comfort makes its way to you. Jeonghan isn't aware of the load he took off your shoulders, and you don't care that he'll take it as another thing to tease you for.

"How did they find us today? If it wasn't me."

"Someone always gets caught," he replies, somber. "We can't know for sure, but it wasn't because you saw the security cameras. I wanted to let you know that."

His voice reminds you of his touch in the caves, in the cold and the dark, but maintaining a softness you're not used to anymore. Every one of your moves is always calculated, because letting the cameras see an emotion outside of your home means something worse than losing those who you care for.

The rise of Cerebrum slowly drove everything that makes us human into the alternate reality. First, the creative games and hobbies were made easier to access, less expensive if you already had a Cerebrum pod. Creativity was the thing that allowed humans to survive thousands of years ago, and they took that away first. Then, as more and more cities joined the craze, you could travel anywhere anytime. Schooling was next, you didn't have to carry things around if you could read and write with your mind. Without anyone realizing, each thing taken into the Pixel World became extinct in reality. It almost seemed like every piece of enjoyment was taken from those who chose to remain free of a false world. You couldn't be seen enjoying something, Cerebrum would just take it away in weeks. The last thing you had left was work. And no one dared to chat, to like a cup of coffee more than once a day.

No one ever imagined Cerebrum to take over the very bare characteristics that built communities, families, personalities, but the less they cared, the more it took.

"How did they end up being a thing?" Ignoring Jeonghan's niceness seems the best. You can't get used to something no one can have.

"She's too smiley, and latched on to the cool and mysterious guy. Happens all the time." He stares at his feet. "I think he really loves her. I've known him since before… everything. When she joined us, it was like the light was back on in him."

"That's nice." What more can you say? People managed to build relationships when you just gave up. You only exchanged words with Morgan through post-its, maybe after the few meetings you cared to join. "She's a good person."

It didn't take much for her to convince you to pass information to Frostbite. She'd left a post-it on your desk one day, telling you to go to the bathroom after 2 p.m. She'd found out you used company time to work on your family's safety, and figured you disliked Cerebrum just as much as her.

The first time you heard her voice, you knew she wasn't just fighting for the right cause, but managed not to lose her spark. You couldn't let yourself know her further, but she cared for you, more than anyone else. It's sad, but true.

"She cares for you," Jeonghan repeats, as if hearing your thoughts. "Did you tell her what happened back there?"

"You don't know what happened." He saved you because he thought you were being left behind and didn't want to trigger a ton of rocks on you. That's what he thinks happened.

"I saw it all, Lurk."

"I tripped. They had their guns on me."

"You gave up."

One thing about giving up, it makes you not want to argue about it.

"So what? I can't do anything for Frostbite anyway. I'm here now, I won't set you back on your quest, but just know you saved someone who can't do anything more for your cause outside Cerebrum."

If you had anything left in you, your eyes would fill with tears admitting such things to a stranger. You've become numb to it all. Acceptance, you called it. Accept what you've done. Accept you can do nothing about it. Accept Jeonghan's hand over yours.

His fingers are warm in the night. You haven't forgotten how they felt leading you out of the cave. If it all happened sooner maybe you'd let him reach further.

You take your hand away, getting up without skipping a beat.

"I'll talk with Storm about the plan," you whisper, more into the wind than towards Jeonghan. You see him shake his head from the corner of your eye.

He follows you until you reach the restroom door. The hallway's still the same as before, but now you can't wait to hug Morgan to sleep. Vernon be damned.

"That's what they want, you know." Jeonghan can't scream, the city silence would give out your location, but his whisper travels to your ears. "They take your hope away, make you believe it's the end and make you either give in or give up."

You hear no more. Words of rebellion are not what you need, nor a friend or the warm ouch of a stranger. You'll see his fight until the end, but the end will take you with it, whether Jeonghan wants it or not.

heeey *awkward*

“Come on, baby—”

“No, Cheol. I have to go to work, and I cannot be late again.”

“Just the tip, please—”

“Cheol.”

It’s one of those mornings when your husband, Seungcheol, can’t keep his hands off you. It started early this morning when he woke you up with kisses before your alarm went off five minutes later. Not wanting to risk being late, you slipped out of bed and ran into the shower, hoping it would stop his antics. But then you catch him watching you as you dry off, discreetly palming himself under the blanket. You feel him creep up on you as you’re bent over, rubbing your body with your favorite lotion that leaves you smelling divine. You throw him a look in the mirror, watching him gaze at you with a mix of love and lust.

“It’s not happening, sir,” you warn, turning to face him. “I can’t be late to work today.”

“Why?” He raises his brows. “Do you have an important meeting today?”

“No,” you say carefully, acutely aware that you are still naked. “I just don’t want to be late today.”

You are putting up a brave front, stepping around him and into the closet. His hand brushes against your hips on the way, and tiny jolts of excitement spread throughout your body. Despite you saying no, your body says the opposite, your insides practically screaming to let him put in said tip. It doesn't help that Seungcheol looks the sexiest in the mornings, with his sleepy look and slightly disheveled hair. You imagine your fingers running through it, tugging it tightly while you kiss his perfect lips, riding him—

“Ahem.”

Snapping out of your reverie, you glance at Seungcheol before praying your perfume and body mist. He saunters toward you, his hands caressing your hips as his lips grace your neck. Your breath hitches involuntarily, your body betraying you as it reacts to his touch. He knows what he is doing, and you want to give in, but you must stay strong and stick to the schedule.

“Seungcheol,” you softly murmur, attempting to free yourself from him gently. “Not now.”

His fingers sneak lower, flirting with your bikini line. You turn, squinting your eyes at him before successfully unwrapping his hands around you and walking away. You had to leave for your own sake, because if you stayed a minute more, he would have you bent over the bathroom counter, again.

“I don’t know why you’re fighting it,” Seungcheol’s voice carries from the closet. “I know you’re thinking about it.”

A slow smirk plays on your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the vivid imagery playing in your head. Your body tingles with excitement and lust, thinking of the last time he suggested ‘just the tip.’ You hear shuffling in the closet, and you pretend to look busy, digging for something imaginary to deter Seungcheol on his conquest. Unfortunately for you, when you turn around, Seungcheol is shirtless, twirling the matching set of bra and panties you had set out for today. He has a mischievous glint in his eye that makes you gulp. God, you are in trouble.

“Are you looking for these?” Seungcheol asks, feigning innocence.

“Possibly…” your voice trails off, squinting your eyes at him. “Not sure how you ended up with them.”

“Maybe I wanted to help you get dressed, since you don’t want to be late and all.”

You scoff, moving towards him and attempting to grab your undergarments. “I’m a big girl,” you roll your eyes. “I can dress myself.”

“I know, I know,” Seungcheol nods in agreement. “But wouldn’t it be so much quicker if you had help?”

You raise your brow at him, aware of the game he is trying to play. You watch him lower himself to his knees, lifting your leg and sliding your panties through it. His eyes are pleading, practically begging for what he wants. He licks his bottom lip at the sight of your naked center, a small sigh escaping his lips. Heat surges through you like a blue flame, your cunt undoubtedly wet and craving his tongue.

“Stop,” you murmur, locking your gaze with his. “You know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Seungheol teases, kissing your inner thigh. “Tell me.”

“Don’t be coy with me,” you say with a resigned sigh. Looking at the time displayed on your digital clock, you gently grab his chin with your fingers. “Do it before I change my mind.”

“With pleasure, baby.”

His tongue graces your folds, tasting and playing with your clit in ways that make you gasp, clutching onto his hair. He doesn’t break his contact with you, carnal lust taking over him as he hums in your pussy. Pleasure courses through your body at the littlest movements, your hips slowly riding his tongue.

Seungcheol grips your thighs tighter, and he delves deeper, slurping and moaning sounds echoing in the room. The vibrations of his lips make you twitch, gripping his hair tighter. “Fuck, Cheol,” you grit your teeth, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

“You look divine on my tongue, baby,” he murmurs, not letting up. “Give me more.”

With renewed vigor, Seungcheol slips two fingers inside of you, and you see heaven. Your pussy clenches around him, his tongue flattening against your clit as he thrusts into you relentlessly. You’re coming undone, legs shaking as his name spills from your lips like a mantra. You make the mistake of looking down, his lips and cheeks covered with your nectar, and it sends you over the edge, screaming colorful obscenities as you fall into an abyss of pleasure.

Seungcheol is earnest, lapping up everything you offer him, gripping you tighter until your legs give out, your bed being your saving grace as you fall back. He chuckles, licking his lips incessantly as your wetness is spread all over his face. Mind fuzzy from the pleasure, you lie back on the bed, your sheets giving you a soft, cool reprieve to the hot sensation spreading all over your body.

“Are you okay, love?”

You make a minimal effort to lift yourself, studying your husband as he licks his lips, completely satisfied.

“I am… a puddle,” you burst into a giggle, in disbelief. “I can’t believe I let you rope me into that.”

“I can be creative,” Seungcheol gloats, running his fingers through his hair. The bed creaks as he climbs on, towering over you and kissing you deeply. You’re in a daze, his lips and your taste on his tongue putting you in a trance. You feel strung out, overflowing with a lust that only your husband can fix, and it doesn’t help that his tip is poking at your entrance through his boxers.

“So,” he clears his throat, drawing lines across your chest. “Did I earn it?”

You throw him a look before letting out a silvery laugh. Seungcheol, ever the pleaser since you first met him, will always make sure he does a good job. “I think you managed.”

Seungcheol looks at you, surprised, amusement etched on his face. “Managed?”

“Yes. Managed,” you tease him. “You could always be better.”

You roar into laughter as Seungcheol lifts your legs, shoving down his sweats and his large cock springing free. He taps it on your clit, oversensitivity and pleasure shooting through your thighs. Your nails dug into his arm in retaliation, a fire burning your belly as you crave to be fucked.

“Just the tip?” He asks, sliding slowly into your wetness. Your fingers cling to your sheets, your eyes rolling back as his girthy cock goes in inch by inch. You shouldn’t have teased him, you know this, because now he has you where he wants you, just as he planned.

“More than the tip,” you purr, accepting the inevitable. “All of it.”

Without warning, he snaps his hips into you, fucking you without mercy. His strokes are long, deep, the kind that fill you up with joy and leave you with tears in your eyes. He pulls you closer, tasting your skin as your nails dig deeper into his back. Your walls spasm around him, loving every minute of the dick he is dropping off, for sure punishment for your teasing earlier.

“Fuck,” you rasp, feeling your peak reaching once more. “You feel so fucking good.”

You feel him grin against your neck, hitting you with a final stroke before lifting you and turning you over. He scurries to the baseboard, beckoning for him to come to him, wiggling his glistening cock. You crawl over to him happily, climbing over and sinking on him slowly, both groaning in unified satisfaction.

“Come here,” Seungcheol mutters, pulling you closer. “Give me your lips.”

His kiss is gratifying, your tongues interwining with another as you ride him, bouncing on his cock the way he likes it. Your pussy gushes as he fucks back, his fingers rubbing your clit vigorously like he owns it. Hit with a shock of pleasure that courses through your veins, you increase the pace and pull his hair, chasing your second orgasm. As if he read your mind, he pounds into you harder, taking your nipple and sucking on it fervently.

“Fuck, I’m close,” you whimper, everything turning white.”Don’t stop.”

“Never, baby,” he grunts. “Give it to me.”

It comes sharp and quick, your legs shuddering and your moans throaty and wet. You cling to Seungcheol as he talks you through it, whispering songs of praise and peppering you with kisses. His thrusts become rigid, signaling his own release as he lets out a loud guttural moan, your walls still pulsating as he empties himself into you. Relishing in each other, you still, your hearts beating as one, as he caresses your back. Love can’t describe what you feel.

“Are you still going to go in?” Seungcheol asks, drawing lines along your back. “Stay home and make it a 3-day weekend.”

Chuckling in the crook of his neck, you gaze at him, kissing him softly. “This was all a part of your plan, huh? Fuck me good and leave me too tired to move?”

Seungcheol peals into laughter, caressing your cheek. “And if it was?”

You lock eyes with him, a knowing look on your face as you lift off him slowly. “Do you remember the last time you begged for ‘just the tip?’” You point at the nightstand, your finger directed at a shiny baby monitor on display next to your wedding portrait.

“So?” Seungcheol shrugs with a smug look. “We can always have another.”

You shake your head with laughter, making your escape before you give him any ideas. A baby’s cry is heard through the monitor, and your heart pangs with guilt. The sunlight shines through the blinds, casting a soft glow that promises a peaceful day. You silently laugh, your shoulders shaking heavily as it dawns on you that at the end, Seungcheol is going to get what he wants.

“Babe? I’m staying home.”

You trudge through the knee-high grass that strokes your legs until you find what you’re looking for—the crescent-moon-shaped patch of grass that is a rare blue and white, a complete contrast to the forest green surrounding you. It’s said that the Egyptian god Jeonghan, also known as Thoth, seared the grass this way specifically, as a gateway to him, for anyone who dared to call out to him. He is the God of wisdom, writing, magic, and the moon. Coming here was no accident or mere coincidence, and the items you brought were specifically for him. Your purpose is to summon him and broker a deal, no matter the price.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you place everything in a circle, complete with a candle that you charged with the previous full moon. You light the stick, watching its flame burn brighter than a regular candle but also unmelting, as if it knows its purpose. You ignore the tension lining your gut, instead pulling out a scroll containing a chant you created. With a deep breath, you say:

On this very night

I call upon thee and his divine light

Shine upon me with your wisdom

Salve Divinus Thoth

You repeat the mantra six times, the lucky number associated with him according to the scribe of the gods and the patron of learning. You wait patiently, expecting lightning to strike or maybe the wind to pick you up and carry you into the sky. But all you hear is the sound of nature, crickets, and the waters of the river crashing into each other. Time passes, and your hope deflates with it as you stand up slowly and dust the dirt off your legs.

“Maybe I missed something,” you mutter to yourself.

“No, you didn’t.”

You yelp and jump back, your foot crushing the corner of the dark chocolate you brought for the offering. You stare at a man, much taller than you, with a carving of an Ibis on his head, dressed in only a short white pleated kilt. He takes a step towards you, and the ground shakes, the recoil making you accidentally fall on your ass. You’ve never seen something so majestic and strange, and it has you shaking in fear.

“I take it you're Jeonghan?” you sputter, your hands shaking. “I brought you an offering as a token of my gratitude.”

“I accept your offerings,” he says shortly. “Why did you summon me?”

Your breath hitches, the words caught in your throat. You’ve been preparing this for several months now, researching it heavily and telling your friends and family that you were going on a trip to ‘heal’ and find yourself again. It wasn’t totally a lie, just an omission of some facts.

“Jeonghan, god of wisdom, writing, magic, and the moon,” you declare, kneeling before him. “I humbly come before you with a request.”

“What is it?” Jeonghan demands, his voice echoing into the night air.

You swallow hard, your voice shaky as you reveal your intent. “I need you to bring my fiancé back from the dead.”

Chris died a year ago today in a car crash as he was heading home to you. You will never forget that day, the hard knock at your door that caught you off guard while you were in your element. You still remember the screams from his mother when you went with her to identify the body. His body lay on the cold, metal stretcher, lifeless and void of the man who gave you joy, the man you were set to have a life with. His mother died not too long after from a heart attack, but you also suspect it was from a broken heart. He was her only child. Not only are you doing this for yourself, but you are doing this for her, to get back the son she lost.

“You want to undo the balance of nature and bring back your loved one?” Jeonghan probes. “Do you understand the consequences you wreak when you bring back the dead?”

You understand the stakes. You’ve been studying them all your life, and you aren’t afraid of the consequences, as long as it brings Chris back into your arms. “I understand,” you breathe.

Jeonghan’s body morphs before you, his height changing drastically to meet your eye level. He slowly removes the Ibis head covering him, revealing a man who is strikingly handsome, with shoulder-length black hair and piercing brown eyes. You’ve seen the hieroglyphics of his true face behind the head, in the shape of a baboon, but it does not do him justice—he’s more beautiful than he’s been pictured or described.

“Very well then,” Jeonghan says, circling around you. “To bring back someone from the dead requires that you serve me for as long as Chris is alive.” Your head shoots up, caught off guard by his name being said out loud. “Don’t be shocked, woman,” Jeonghan says flippantly, tapping his head. “I know all.”

You lick the bottom of your lip, nodding slowly. “How am I to serve?”

“Every full moon phase, you must serve me,” he reveals. “The day before, the day of, and the day after.”

You lock eyes with him, pondering over the information. It costs you almost a quarter of your savings to come here, and you know you can’t afford to do it once a month. Panic weighs heavily in your choice, doubt creeping into the back of your mind. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this.

“I-I don’t think I can afford to come here every month,” you stutter. “It cost me a lot to come here.”

Jeonghan lets out a noise that almost sounds like a snort. “You humans are short-sighted. I will find you, as I am guided by the moonlight.”

You stare at him incredulously, almost not believing what you are seeing and hearing. “Can you tell me what I am going to be doing?”

“Whatever I need you to do,” Jeonghan asserts. “Will that be a problem?”

You weigh the options in your mind heavily. You get the love of your life back, and your nights will not be so cold. You feel warmth, love, and peace again. You will have your savior, your protector, your Chris back. Whatever you need to do to serve this god, you are willing to do.

“No.” You bow your head. “I am willing to serve.”

“Very well then.”

You glance slowly at him as he flicks his wrist, bringing on a white, blinding flash that swallows everything around you. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel like you’re falling with nothing to reach out to. The muscles relax in your body; your vision is the last to go as everything turns black, then dark navy blue. You rise slowly in a haze, your eyes adjusting to the low light and thickness of cloth clutched in your hands. You’re back in your house, with your luggage and belongings you brought with you to Africa placed next to your bed. Your head fogs over, as if you've just had a dream, but you know it’s not that. It’s clear Jeonghan sent you back home. You don’t know what to expect—should you wait for further instruction? Do you go digging out Chris’s grave—

“Dove?”

Your head jerks to the door, a chill settling in your bones. That nickname, Dove, was given to you by Chris because he said you were gentle and brought him peace. That voice that called your name feels familiar; that tremor in his voice is so distinctive that you hear it in your dreams when you are missing him. Creeping out of bed, you open your bedroom door, stalking down the hallway of your small two-bedroom house. A shadow is cast from the front door, matching a man with a large frame, dressed in a brown jacket and jeans, an outfit identical to Chris’s the day he… the day he di—

“Dove? Is that you?”

The man steps closer to you, the light of the stove casting over him, revealing the face of the man you’ve loved for five years, his eyes dark and pleading, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Baby, is that really you?”

You close the space between you two, hugging him tightly and breaking out into a sob. All the grief, the pain you suffered for the year, yearning for his touch and feeling empty inside, comes rushing out of you. Your chest is heavy as you cry happy tears, peppering him with long-overdue kisses all over his face. “It worked!” you exclaim. “It worked. Oh my Thoth!”

“What do you mean?” Chris interrogates. “What did you do?”

You leave a lasting kiss on his lips, heartfelt with every emotion you have, to show him that you love him and that you are grateful to have him back. His hands grab your waist, and your legs almost buckle instantly. It feels good to be in his arms again.

“We have a lot to talk about,” you breathe, placing your forehead on his. “But I will never let you go again.”

｡･:*˚:✧｡ GIRL SO IN LOVE. . .

1. DROP DEAD — kim seokjin.

summary: It all started as a silly joke between friends. One harmless unimportant conversation, one name thrown into the mix, and one boring late-night search that should’ve ended after a single Instagram post and not in thousand of hours stalking a famous idol. Looking back, maybe your feminine intuition already knew that the story wouldn’t stop there… because once Kim Seokjin crossed your mind, it seemed impossible for the universe to keep him out of your life.

warning! ─ none.

2. STUPID SONG — min yoongi.

summary: As a songwriter you’ve always trusted your words more than your feelings. Unfortunately, falling for Min Yoongi makes both impossible to ignore. Wanting someone so much that you’re lost for words was slowly driving you mad. And somewhere between studio sessions, late-night conversations, and one too many stupid songs that sound suspiciously alike, you begin to wonder if love is supposed to feel this wonderfully unbearable.

warming! ─ none.

3. HONEYBEE — kim taehyung.

summary: Moving into a new apartment wasn’t supposed to change much of your life. Except, you moved next to Kim Taehyung— a man who’s always had a habit of making himself at home wherever he goes. Funny enough, neither of you noticed you’d been building one together all along.

warning! ─ none.

4. MAGGOTS FOR BRAINS — kim namjoon.

summary: You always thought people who couldn’t function without their partners were being stupid and pathetic. That was until Namjoon leaves for tour, suddenly every song, every meal, and every quiet moment seems determined to remind you that you’ve officially lost your mind. Nobody warned you that missing someone could feel like a full-time job— or that love had a way of making even the smartest people act a little stupid.

warning! ─ none.

5. U + ME = <3 — jung hoseok.

summary: Dating Jung Hoseok feels a little like breaking every rule you’ve ever had about taking things slow. Between meeting his family, compatibility quizzes that insist you’re all wrong for each other, and a future that somehow keeps slipping into everyday conversations, you and Hobi are determined to prove everyone wrong— even if it means falling a little too hard and a little too fast.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

6. MY WAY — park jimin.

summary: You’ve never considered yourself the jealous type. Petty? Maybe. But there’s a difference between insecurity and watching someone repeatedly ignore the word ‘no.’ As Jimin’s ex grows increasingly creative in her attempts to stay in his life, you find yourself running dangerously low on patience. You were determined to handle things like a mature adult… at least right up until the night you realize there are far more satisfying ways to remind someone exactly who he goes home with.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

7. PURPLE — jeon jungkook.

summary: Loving Jungkook feels like watching two pretty colors blend into something even more beautiful. The trouble is, once they become one, it’s hard to remember what they looked like apart.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

. . . PRETTY SAD ｡･:*˚:✧｡

8. THE CURE — jeon jungkook.

summary: You had dated enough men to know exactly when the doubt would start. The comparisons, the jealousy, the quiet certainty that eventually you would never be enough. Dating Jungkook had cured every fear you ever had about love. For the first time, loving someone didn’t feel like drowning…. Which only made it more terrifying when you realized the thing ruining your relationship wasn’t him— It was you.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

9. BEGGED — kim namjoon.

summary: Namjoon has always loved you the best way he knows how. Between late-night promises, postponed plans, and a man who always means well, you’re willing to be patient. After all, it’s a virtue to not let good love slip away. But it’s funny how easily patience can disguise itself as hope… You just never imagined that one day you’d find yourself wondering whether love should have to be asked for in the first place.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

10. WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME — kim taehyung.

summary: Taehyung loves you exactly the way you’ve always dreamed of being loved. So why does every morning feel a little heavier than the last? When doctors insist there’s nothing wrong and even happiness starts to feel like an unbearable weight, you’re left wondering if the greatest love of your life might somehow be the very thing making you sick.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

11. LESS — min yoongi.

summary: You never imagined the person who loved you most would also be the one forced to let you go. But when every attempt to save your relationship only leaves you both hurting a little more, you’re left wondering if the cruelest kind of love is the one that knows when it’s time to end.

warning! ─ none.

12. EXPECTATIONS — park jimin/jung hoseok.

summary: After one heartbreak too many, you’ve decided to raise your standards. Lucky for you, Park Jimin and Jung Hoseok seem determined to exceed them. Whether they’re trying to impress you or simply outdo each other is still up for debate— and while neither of them looks particularly promising as husband material… you’re beginning to suspect they’d make an excellent team.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

13. CIGARETTE SMOKE — kim seokjin.

summary: It’s strange how every memory of Jin seems to come in pairs: one that reminds you why you stayed, and another that quietly explains why you couldn’t forever. The hardest part is deciding which one deserves to be remembered and which one will help you decide your future with him.

warning! ─ +18 (to be added).

UPDATE SCHEDULE:

── AUGUST

── SEPTEMBER

── OCTOBER

── first of all, i knowww yoongi is a piscis and taehyung gives paris but but you have to walk with me on this one okay? trust me that i know bts better than all of you cause we’re really close friends and i’ve been really stressing the fuck out which song to chose for everyone so you better stfu. i only accept good criticism. anyway im actually shaking for this fics!! i really hope you guys like it. and let me know what you think about the theme and the short summary so far<33

The first time you went viral, you weren’t even trying to.

That was the problem.

You had never been trying to become part of the public image of SEVENTEEN.

You had never wanted to be recognized.

You had never wanted fans to know what you looked like, what you sounded like, what your personality was like, or—most importantly—how often you yelled at your boyfriend.

You were perfectly happy being Choi Seungcheol’s girlfriend in private.

You were perfectly happy living your life, working your job, seeing your friends, going home to the apartment you shared with him, and occasionally having to remind your extremely famous boyfriend that just because he was the leader of SEVENTEEN did not mean he was allowed to eat your snacks.

That last part was what ruined everything.

It started with a behind-the-scenes video.

You weren't even supposed to be in it.

Seungcheol had been at home, filming something for the group's behind-the-scenes content. You were in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, hair tied up messily, completely unaware that a camera was recording.

You had been looking for your chocolate-covered pretzels.

You knew you had bought them.

You knew you had put them in the cupboard.

You knew you had specifically told Seungcheol not to eat them.

And then you opened the cupboard.

They were gone.

You stood there for several seconds.

Then you slowly turned around.

Seungcheol was sitting on the couch.

Eating the last one.

You stared at him.

He froze.

The camera kept filming.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

The entire room went silent.

Seungcheol slowly lowered the pretzel.

“...Yes?”

“Did you eat my snacks?”

He looked at the camera.

Then at you.

Then back at the camera.

“No?"

You stared at him.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I'm telling you?”

“Seungcheol.”

“Okay, yes.”

“You ate my snacks.”

“I was hungry.”

“You had dinner.”

“That was three hours ago.”

“You ate my snacks.”

“I can buy you more.”

“They were the last ones in the store.”

“I can order them online.”

“They don't taste the same.”

“I'm sorry.”

You stared at him.

Seungcheol stared back.

The camera continued filming.

Then you pointed at the empty packet in his hand.

“You're buying me two bags.”

“Okay.”

“Three.”

“Okay.”

“And you're not eating them.”

“Okay.”

“And if I find out you've touched them—”

“Okay.”

“—I'm changing the Wi-Fi password.”

Seungcheol's eyes widened.

“You wouldn't.”

You smiled.

“Try me.”

The video cut there.

You didn't know any of this had happened until two days later.

You were sitting at home, wearing Seungcheol's hoodie and eating the replacement snacks he had bought you, when he walked into the room with the expression of a man who had just seen something deeply unfortunate.

You looked up.

“What?”

He said nothing.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Have you been online today?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Nothing.”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He sighed.

Then he turned his phone around.

You stared at the screen.

The video had been uploaded.

And the comments were moving faster than you could read them.

WHO IS SHE?

THE WAY HE IMMEDIATELY SAID OKAY 😭

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL” OH SHE KNOWS HOW TO USE THE FULL NAME

THE WI-FI PASSWORD THREAT????

SHE'S SO CASUAL????

WHY DOES HE LOOK SO SCARED

I NEED TO KNOW WHO THIS WOMAN IS

You stared.

Then slowly looked up at Seungcheol.

“...Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You're sorry?”

“I didn't know they were filming.”

“You threatened my Wi-Fi password in front of millions of people.”

“You ate my snacks.”

Seungcheol paused.

“That's not the point.”

“It is absolutely the point.”

He rubbed his face.

You looked back at the screen.

One comment caught your attention.

I BET SHE'S THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN ACTUALLY CONTROL HIM.

You turned toward Seungcheol.

“Am I?”

“No.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He immediately sighed.

“Yes.”

You smiled.

“That's what I thought.”

The second time you went viral, you were fixing Seungcheol's collar.

It was a music show day.

You had come along because Seungcheol had forgotten his wallet, his phone charger, and the jacket he was supposed to wear.

In that order.

You had arrived at the company building carrying his things and found him in the hallway, surrounded by the members.

He was wearing a suit.

A very nice suit.

Unfortunately, the collar was crooked.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

“What?”

“Your collar.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“It's crooked.”

“It is not.”

“It is.”

“It looks fine.”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

The members immediately turned.

Seungcheol's shoulders dropped.

“Fine.”

You stepped closer and fixed it.

He stood perfectly still.

You adjusted his collar, smoothed down his jacket, fixed his tie, and brushed a piece of lint from his shoulder.

The entire time, Seungcheol looked at you with the most fond expression imaginable.

You didn't notice.

The camera did.

The members definitely did.

And Carats did too.

The clip appeared online that evening.

It was only eight seconds long.

You fixing his collar.

Seungcheol standing there obediently.

You saying something that couldn't be heard.

And Seungcheol immediately nodding.

The internet lost its mind.

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER???

HE IS GONE.

This man is the leader of thirteen men but one woman fixes his collar and he becomes a child.

She didn't even look at the camera 😭

I need the full context.

The full context was that you had said:

“Stop moving.”

And Seungcheol had replied:

“I'm not moving.”

“You're breathing.”

“I have to breathe.”

“Then breathe less.”

The fact that this was not included in the video was a tragedy.

After that, fans started noticing you.

Not officially.

Not because anyone announced you.

You simply kept appearing.

You had a talent for accidentally wandering into the background of things.

The first time you appeared during a livestream, Seungcheol was sitting on the couch, talking to fans.

You walked behind him.

Wearing his sweatpants.

His hoodie.

And his baseball cap.

Seungcheol didn't notice.

The fans did.

The chat exploded.

WHO WAS THAT?

WAIT.

IS THAT HER?

THE HOODIE GIRL???

Seungcheol glanced at the comments.

His face changed.

You stopped walking.

Slowly.

Seungcheol looked over his shoulder.

You looked at him.

He looked at you.

Then he looked back at the camera.

“She's not here.”

You stared at him.

“I'm literally standing here.”

Seungcheol closed his eyes.

The chat went insane.

You walked over and stood behind the couch.

“Why did you say I'm not here?”

“Because you're not supposed to be here.”

“Then why did you give me a key?”

Seungcheol looked directly into the camera.

“I'm ending the live.”

“No, you're not.”

“I'm ending the live.”

“You have fans.”

“I know.”

“Then talk to them.”

“I was talking to them.”

“Then continue.”

“I'm ending the live.”

You reached over and took the phone.

Seungcheol gasped.

“Give that back.”

“No.”

“You can't just take my phone during a live.”

“Apparently I can.”

You held the phone toward yourself.

The camera caught your face properly for the first time.

You blinked.

“Oh.”

The chat was moving so quickly that you couldn't read anything.

You looked at Seungcheol.

“Why are they screaming?”

“Because you took my phone.”

“No, I think it's because they can see me now.”

“Give me the phone.”

You handed it back.

Then walked away.

The live ended thirty seconds later.

The internet spent the next twelve hours analyzing your face.

You found out because Seungcheol sent you a message from the kitchen.

Seungcheol: You are trending.

You: Why?

Seungcheol: You appeared on my live.

You: Again?

Seungcheol: Yes.

You: Did I say anything bad?

There was a pause.

Seungcheol: You told me to talk to my fans.

You: That's not bad.

Seungcheol: You also told me to stop being dramatic.

You: That's true.

Seungcheol: You also said I was incapable of operating a phone properly.

You: Also true.

Seungcheol: You know what? Never mind.

The members loved you.

That was probably Seungcheol's biggest mistake.

Because the second they realized you were not intimidated by them, they adopted you.

You were no longer simply Seungcheol's girlfriend.

You were now, apparently, everyone's girlfriend.

You had group chats.

You had inside jokes.

You had individual snack preferences memorized.

You knew who would steal food.

You knew who would pretend they weren't hungry and then eat everyone else's food.

You knew who would stay up too late.

And you knew exactly which members Seungcheol would let overwork him.

Which was why you occasionally showed up at the company building and threatened them.

The first time, Seungcheol had been working for almost eighteen hours.

You knew because he had texted you at six in the morning.

Seungcheol: Good morning ❤️

You: Did you sleep?

No answer.

You had called.

No answer.

You had called again.

No answer.

You had called Jeonghan.

“Is Seungcheol with you?”

There was a pause.

“...Yes.”

“Is he sleeping?”

“...No.”

“Has he eaten?”

Another pause.

“...Define eaten.”

You had hung up.

An hour later, you arrived at the company.

You walked into the room where the members were working.

Everyone looked up.

Seungcheol's eyes widened.

“Why are you here?”

You looked around.

“Where is the food?”

No one answered.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Where is the food?”

Mingyu slowly pointed toward the table.

You looked.

There were three coffees.

One banana.

And half a protein bar.

You turned toward Seungcheol.

“That's your lunch?”

“I'm busy.”

You slowly turned toward the other members.

“Who let him work like this?”

Silence.

Jeonghan immediately pointed at Seungcheol.

“He did it himself.”

Seungcheol stared at him.

“Traitor.”

You pointed at him.

“You.”

He froze.

“Me?”

“You're the leader.”

“Yes?”

“You are responsible for making sure everyone is okay.”

“Yes?”

“Who is responsible for making sure you're okay?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

You nodded.

“Exactly.”

You looked at the members.

“I'm ordering food.”

Mingyu raised his hand.

“Can we get—”

“You're getting food too.”

Mingyu immediately smiled.

“She's my favorite person.”

Seungcheol frowned.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn't feed us.”

“I was busy.”

“You're all useless.”

“Hey!”

You walked out to order food.

Behind you, Seungcheol followed.

You turned.

“Where are you going?”

“With you.”

“You're going to sit down.”

“But—”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He sat down.

The members watched.

Jeonghan slowly turned to the camera that had been filming content in the corner.

“Did you get that?”

The camera operator nodded.

Seungcheol groaned.

“No.”

The clip was uploaded.

Of course it was.

And this time, fans got to see you in full protective girlfriend mode.

SHE WALKED IN AND IMMEDIATELY STARTED MANAGING EVERYONE 😭

“WHO LET HIM WORK LIKE THIS”

THE MEMBERS LOOKED SO GUILTY

CHEOL FOLLOWING HER OUT LIKE A PUPPY

THE WAY HE SAT DOWN IMMEDIATELY WHEN SHE SAID HIS FULL NAME

SHE IS THE ACTUAL LEADER OF SEVENTEEN.

You read the comments while sitting next to Seungcheol.

He was scrolling too.

“You're enjoying this.”

You looked at him.

“I am.”

“You're enjoying everyone calling you my boss?”

“Very much.”

“You're not my boss.”

“Then why do you listen to me?”

“I don't.”

You looked at him.

He looked back.

You pointed at the bowl of fruit you had placed in front of him.

“Eat.”

Seungcheol picked up a piece of fruit.

You smiled.

“That's what I thought.”

The stealing-his-clothes situation became a major topic.

Mostly because you had no shame.

You stole his hoodies.

His shirts.

His sweatpants.

His jackets.

His socks.

At one point, you had somehow acquired one of his stage jackets.

Seungcheol came home and found you wearing it.

He stared.

“Is that mine?”

You looked down.

“Maybe.”

“That is literally the jacket I wore last week.”

“It's comfortable.”

“It's designer.”

“Even better.”

“You can't just steal my clothes.”

“Your clothes are my clothes.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Then why do you keep buying clothes in my size?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth.

Closed it.

You smiled.

“Exactly.”

The problem was that fans began noticing.

One day, Seungcheol uploaded a photo.

He was wearing a black hoodie.

A week later, you appeared in the background of a video.

Wearing the same hoodie.

Fans noticed.

Of course they did.

WAIT.

IS THAT THE SAME HOODIE?

SHE STOLE IT.

THE GIRLFRIEND TAX IS REAL.

He bought it. She owns it now.

Seungcheol saw the comments.

He sent you a message.

Seungcheol: You are trending again.

You: What did I do?

Seungcheol: My hoodie.

You: What about it?

Seungcheol: You are wearing it.

You: Yes.

Seungcheol: I wore that in a photo.

You: And?

Seungcheol: Everyone knows.

You: That you own a hoodie?

Seungcheol: That you stole my hoodie.

You: Borrowed.

Seungcheol: You've had it for three months.

You: Borrowed long-term.

He stared at the conversation.

Then typed:

Seungcheol: Can I have it back?

You replied with a picture of yourself wearing it.

You: No.

He stared at the picture.

Then sighed.

Seungcheol: Fine.

The worst incident happened during one of the members' livestreams.

You weren't even aware there was a camera.

You were sitting on the floor behind the couch, sorting laundry.

Seungcheol was in the middle of a live with several members.

You had been silently folding clothes for about ten minutes when you noticed something.

You held up a shirt.

“Seungcheol.”

He looked over.

“What?”

“Why is this shirt inside out?”

“Because I took it off.”

“You can't take your clothes off and just leave them like this.”

“I put it in the laundry.”

“Inside out.”

“That's where it goes.”

You stared at him.

Then looked at the camera.

“Does he always do this?”

The members immediately started laughing.

Seungcheol looked horrified.

“Don't involve the fans.”

“They need to know.”

“No, they don't.”

“He also leaves cups everywhere.”

“That's not true.”

“There are currently three cups in the bedroom.”

“I was drinking.”

“You finished them.”

“Not all of them.”

You slowly turned.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He immediately raised both hands.

“Okay.”

The members were losing it.

You continued folding laundry.

“Also, he has a habit of putting things down and then asking me where they are.”

“I don't.”

“You do.”

“I don't.”

“You asked me where your phone was while you were holding it.”

“That happened once.”

“It happened yesterday.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

“I forgot I had it.”

You stared at him.

The room went quiet.

Then everyone burst out laughing.

The clip became one of the most popular SEVENTEEN behind-the-scenes moments of the month.

SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

THE WAY SHE DIDN'T EVEN LOOK UP FROM THE LAUNDRY 😭

CHEOL IS SO EMBARRASSED

“Does he always do this?” YES. YES HE DOES.

She has accidentally become the most powerful person in the fandom.

At this point, Seungcheol had accepted that his privacy was gone.

What he had not accepted was that you had somehow become more popular than him.

You had no social media presence.

You did not post.

You did not give interviews.

You did not deliberately interact with fans.

And yet, somehow, every time you appeared, people lost their minds.

Fans had started calling you things.

“Choi Seungcheol's boss.”

“Mrs. Choi.”

“Seungcheol's emotional support girlfriend.”

“The real leader.”

You found the last one particularly funny.

Seungcheol did not.

One night, you were lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone.

Seungcheol walked into the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading comments.”

“Why?”

“Someone made a compilation of me yelling at you.”

He stopped.

“Why would you watch that?”

“It's funny.”

“It is not funny.”

You turned the phone toward him.

The compilation was six minutes long.

It included:

“Choi Seungcheol, put the coffee down.”

“Eat your food.”

“Stop working.”

“Don't touch my snacks.”

“Why are you wearing that shirt? You wore it yesterday.”

“Come here.”

Every single time, Seungcheol listened.

You looked up at him.

“You're very obedient.”

“I am not.”

The compilation continued.

You said, “Seungcheol.”

He immediately turned toward you.

You paused the video.

He froze.

You slowly smiled.

“Interesting.”

He pointed at you.

“Don't.”

“You're whipped.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“You just responded to your name in a video.”

“I thought you were calling me.”

“You were in the video.”

“You could have been calling me.”

You burst out laughing.

Seungcheol stared at you.

Then he sat down beside you.

“You're enjoying this way too much.”

“You love me.”

He sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

You gasped.

“Unfortunately?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, no. Go on.”

He reached for you.

You immediately moved away.

“Don't touch me.”

“Come here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come here.”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He smiled.

There it was.

The full name.

His weakness.

He immediately stopped.

You smiled triumphantly.

“That's what I thought.”

He stared at you.

Then, without warning, grabbed you and pulled you against him.

You squealed.

“Seungcheol!”

“You're annoying.”

“You love me!”

“Unfortunately.”

You laughed as he buried his face against your shoulder.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the feeling that this was not going to remain private.

You were right.

Because the next morning, Seungcheol posted a picture.

Just a simple picture.

His arm around you.

Your face mostly hidden.

You were wearing his hoodie.

Again.

The caption was simple.

My person.

The internet exploded.

You stared at the post.

Then slowly turned toward him.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He looked up from his phone.

“What?”

“You posted me.”

“Yes.”

“Without warning.”

“Yes.”

“You made me go viral.”

“You've been going viral for months.”

“That is not the point.”

He smiled.

“You're my girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

You paused.

He looked at you.

The words were casual.

Simple.

But they still made your heart skip.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Yes.”

“It's working.”

“I know.”

You stared at him.

Then pointed toward his phone.

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“I need to see the comments.”

“No.”

“Seungcheol.”

“No.”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He immediately handed you the phone.

You smiled.

“Thank you.”

He stared at you.

“You are impossible.”

“You love me.”

He sighed.

“Unfortunately.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Good.”

And as you scrolled through the comments, Seungcheol looked at you with the same expression he always had whenever you were around.

Completely, hopelessly, embarrassingly whipped.

The members knew.

The fans knew.

The entire internet knew.

And, finally, so did you.

Although, to be fair, you had known for a long time.

You just liked making him admit it.

One week later

Seungcheol walked into the dorm.

The members were gathered around the television.

“What are you watching?”

Nobody answered.

He frowned.

Then looked at the screen.

It was a compilation.

A compilation of you.

THE GIRLFRIEND WHO KEEPS ACCIDENTALLY GOING VIRAL — PART 27

Seungcheol stared.

“Part twenty-seven?”

Jeonghan nodded.

“There's a lot of content.”

Seungcheol turned toward you.

You were sitting on the couch wearing his hoodie.

Again.

He pointed at the screen.

“Why is there a part twenty-seven?”

You shrugged.

“People like me.”

“You're enjoying this.”

“Maybe.”

He walked over.

“You're wearing my hoodie.”

“It's mine.”

“It is not.”

“It is now.”

He stared at you.

Then at the members.

Then back at you.

“I'm taking the hoodie back.”

You gasped.

The members went silent.

You slowly stood.

“Try.”

Seungcheol stared at you.

You stared back.

Then he smiled.

“Oh, you're challenging me?”

“Yes.”

“You know I can physically take it off you.”

The room immediately erupted.

You pointed at him.

“Don't say things like that in front of the members!”

Seungcheol blinked.

“What? I meant the hoodie!”

The members were screaming.

You covered your face.

Seungcheol finally realized how that sounded.

His face went bright red.

“That's not what I meant!”

Jeonghan was already laughing.

Mingyu had fallen over.

Seungkwan was shouting that this was going to be uploaded.

You looked at Seungcheol.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He immediately covered his face.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Please don't.”

“You're buying me another hoodie.”

He lowered his hands.

“What?”

“This one is mine now.”

He stared at you.

Then sighed.

“Fine.”

You smiled.

The members cheered.

And somewhere, somehow, you already knew that this was going to end up online.

Sure enough, the next day, it did.

SHE SAID “TRY” AND HE IMMEDIATELY LOST THE ARGUMENT 😭

THEY ARE SO MARRIED.

CHEOL HAS NO POWER IN HIS OWN RELATIONSHIP.

THE WAY HE JUST SAID FINE.

She accidentally goes viral every week and he keeps giving her more material.

And Seungcheol?

He read every single comment.

Then came home.

Found you wearing another one of his hoodies.

And smiled.

Because maybe he had regretted giving you access to his house.

Maybe he regretted giving you a key.

Maybe he regretted letting you appear in one behind-the-scenes video.

But he had never regretted you.

Not once.

Even if the entire internet now knew exactly how whipped he was.

Especially because you knew too.

And every time you looked at him, smiled, and said—

“Choi Seungcheol.”

He still turned around.

Every.

Single.

oral fixation!cheol who finds the least convenient opportunities to be the most successful when convincing you to let him have his way with you. he’ll corner you while you’re at a house party, shield your body with his massive shoulders in the darkest spot of the house. he grips your jaw and slips a finger or two in between your lips, prying your chin with his opposite hand and cooing at your dribbles of drool pooling over his fingers once they’re inside your mouth. he’ll throw a praise in here and there while he thrusts them deeper against your tongue, making you gag just slightly before he’s collecting those same saliva-coated digits into his own mouth, making a show of it with a deep groan and those sultry eyes.

oral fixation!cheol who i just know is the type to ask for a lick of the lollipop you’re eating after it’s already been in your mouth, OR vice versa. except when it’s you asking, he’ll just pop it into your mouth and watch with heavy eyes. and you’re just kinda staring back like “can i help u?” but he doesn’t say anything and just waits until you give it back and he’s going to town on that thang immediately after. i mean full on savoring the taste of your mouth like he can’t just lean over and kiss you like a sane person would.

oral fixation!cheol who makes it a point to have the second sip of your drink whenever you’re dining out. he’d wordlessly lift your glass to his lips once you’ve had a generous amount, making sure his mouth is lined up with the lip stain you’d leave behind. he loves tasting the faint flavor of your lip balm and can’t help himself from licking the rim where your lips just were under the guise of needing another sip. he does it so often that you’ve practically conditioned yourself to hand your drink over to him right after you’ve had your first swig.

oral fixation!cheol who pisses you off when he pulls the sadistic act of “you need to earn the kiss.” one way or another, he’s always finding a way to make you beg for it. he’ll kiss you nice and slow, passionate enough to leave you wanting more… and then he stops, pulls away at a breath’s distance, letting his lips brush over the supple peak of your Cupid’s bow. he’ll grin and tease you some more by letting you lean in to catch him off guard, but he still manages to escape. the next attempt you make to kiss him again, he’s taking his sweet time just marking your bottom lip with deep teeth indentations, nearly drawing blood. if you complain he’ll drag it out even longer and simply entertain himself with licking over your lips, sucking on them individually until they’re swollen and bruised. and THEN he’ll finally let you kiss him and ugh he just about comes in his pants right there.

oral fixation!cheol who takes great pleasure in keeping you gagged with something of his while he eats you out. he’d probably give you his shirt or a jacket he’d just taken off and watch you stuff a decent amount of the material between your teeth before he gets to work. it gets him riled up to see a piece of him filling the mouth he’d practically assemble shrines for. your mouth busied with his clothes, your pussy swallowing his cock whole, and his fingers working your clit. the makeshift gag is the show stopper for him though. he can’t get over the way your teeth chew on his shirt or the way your drool seeps into the material and leaves large blotches so he can visualize the effect he has on you. you usually end up ripping it out half way and manhandling him until the fabric is inside of his mouth.

oral fixation!cheol that also makes eating you out a fucking routine and the man can go on for hours. you almost always wake up to him already between your legs, letting his breath whisper over your folds until you’re fully awake. or find him kissing over the thin fabric of your underwear while you’re watching tv at night. he knows his way around your body so well that he doesn’t even have to move your panties aside to know his tongue has located your engorged clit. or sometimes he’s just bored out of his mind while you’re cooking in the kitchen and he’ll drop to his knees behind you and get a head start on his dinner (aka, you). he also never holds out on making you come more than once on his tongue despite your complaints of over sensitivity. he’ll keep going until you’re shaking and silent. and even then, he’ll pull away from your clit and folds, and instead kiss the inner parts of your thighs, your pelvis, your stomach— wherever his mouth can reach.

oral fixation!cheol who, at times, does things without any sexual intent. like when his mouth finds its way to your shoulder or arm or your wrist and peppers it with kisses before taking the gentlest of chomps to your skin. or when you’re working from home, typing away on your laptop when he comes into your makeshift office and sits on the ground beside you. at first he’ll busy himself with his phone but once he’s had enough of that he’ll silently reach up to find your wrist and ease it away from the keyboard. you’ll give him a side glance but continue to focus on your work with the opposite hand. all the while he has his lips secured on the back of your hand, suckling at the skin and leaving open mouth kisses that make your stomach flip and your legs cross. but then he gives it one last kiss and sighs contently, nudging his head against your thigh and speaking to you quietly about what you’re working on; as if it’s just another Tuesday.

oral fixation!cheol who is just a fellatio kind of guy. he loves seeing your mouth wrapped around his girth. loves the way the corners of your mouth stretch wide. loves when your tongue slips out of your mouth first when he asks you to open up for him. he loves to hear your muffled whimpers become less coherent and soon replaced with low chested groans that he feels shooting up his dick and straight into him. he’s a crazed man with little restraint when it comes to you. sometimes he gets a little too wild and thrusts into your mouth just to come faster and watch his load leave your lips with a white ring while still attached to him. he nearly comes a second time when you peel away and present your tongue to him, slick with him, and then swallow every last drop.

oral fixation!cheol whose a major cuddler but a chewer at heart. he has a difficult time falling asleep most nights and when you’re sprawled across his chest and starting to fall asleep, he’ll hold your hand to his lips and give it a few innocent kisses that gradually turn into nibbles against your knuckles and fingertips. you’re used to it so despite the minimal pressure his teeth apply, you’re able to ignore it and trail off to dreamland. he’ll very rarely suck on your fingers in these types of situations, but if he does, it normally lasts for less than a minute or two. he’ll mainly just press your pinky against the inner part of his lip, let it sit there while he wills himself to sleep and lets it slip out on its own when you shift around.

oral fixation!cheol who can be a menace when it comes to dealing with the urge to keep his mouth occupied in public. you’ll have to barter with him over the stupidest things like, “if you help me decide what shade looks better I’ll blow you in the car,” or “if i let you spit in my mouth in the middle of this damn store you’re buying me a new pair of shoes.”

oral fixation!cheol is also more than intrigued with the concept of sharing liquids via your mouths. for instance, he’ll be drinking a new flavor of soju that you haven’t tried and when you ask to try it he’ll take a big swig and hold it in his mouth, lean over you, cup your chin and bring you closer to press your lips together. slowly, the alcohol will pass from his mouth to yours and he’ll be left wanting more. so then it just turns into a sloppy makeout sesh but you’re not one to complain!

oral fixation!cheol who can’t stop kissing you when you’re out with family. he just has this possessive urge to bare his heart out to you and let his love language shine through in the form of physical affection. he’ll leave a kiss on your shoulder in passing. kiss the crown of your head when you’re standing close. kiss your cheek when he serves your plate of food. kiss you right on the lips when no one’s looking.

oral fixation!cheol that’s 100 times worse with kissing you when it comes to hanging around friends in a bar setting. the group of friends themselves aren’t the threat (most of the time) it’s always the people lingering around. especially the men who come looking for a fun night. not with his woman! he’ll accompany you to every trip to the counter for refills, tucking you in close to his side or even his chest while you wait. his eyes will scan the area and if he catches someone so much as looking in your direction, he’s already beelining for the exit with you in tow. he’ll immediately pin you against the side of the building, swallowing your moans with his lips on yours. it’s messy and a little painful, but his infatuation with your mouth and your precious sounds only fires him up further. he’ll clamp his fingers around your jaw and pull it open just so he can dig his tongue deeper. he gives you a breather when he dips down to focus on your neck, shoulder and chest; tracing a map of red and pinks along your skin before signing his name against your cleavage with a searing bite.

(he thinks it’s hot when you walk back in, shiny with his spit all over you, but then you’re scolding him about leaving marks and whatnot. but at least no one’s looking your way anymore! and if they are, it’s to side eye the scary bodyguard you call your boyfriend.)

< envy yaps: well this was fun. definitely needed to get my point across and regain some respect for the orally fixated seungcheol agenda.

make sure to like, comment and reblog as it lets me know to keep writing. also, let me know if head canons are something you’d like to see in the future! (i have at least 9 more sitting in my drafts, collecting cobwebs)

check out my other works here!

You felt more than watched Mingyu crouch at your side. His hands hovered but didn’t quite touch the bandage he’d wrapped around your chest. He murmured a curse to Jun and Vernon, the two who dragged you in. “If you ripped open her stitches, we’re going to have a problem.”

Jun averted his gaze, embarrassed, and Vernon’s jaw tightened.

“It’s fine,” you whispered and cursed yourself for how your voice trembled.

It was strange how in one moment, you were brave, strong and full of adrenaline. The you from before would never have jumped in front of an arrow, would never have been quick enough to get there anyway, but the way you were now, you think you’d do it again in a heartbeat. Without it, your Captain wouldn’t be looking down at you now and you couldn’t bear the thought.

Maybe it was better your battalion looked at you with disgust and hurt than in grief and devastation. You think you could take that.

It was Mingyu who had found out first, the battalion’s lead medic. He’d stripped you with the efficiency of a skilled doctor and then flushed to the tips of his toes at the sight of your tits. You’re pretty sure they all got a good look, before Seungkwan had swung into action, ordering privacy with threat of testicle removal.

When you’d cried - in pain from the embedded arrow head in your right side, heartbroken at the truth and terrified of the consequences - Seungkwan had held your hand against his chest. You’d called him “pretty boy” and he’d given you a wet smile.

You almost wished for that Seungkwan now, the one who could actually look at you.

In the end, it was Jeonghan that spoke to you first. “So it’s true, you really are a woman.” He didn’t say it like an insult, like you were something less than, but still you bristled.

“Was it the tits that gave it away?” You snapped. Like old times, like you were allowed that kind of familiarity.

You weren’t, not anymore. Wonwoo tensed, hand flexing around the handle of his sword. Jeonghan though, he just grinned in wryly amusement. “Are you saying that as Hyunjin or the real you?”

Hyunjin. The name you had given yourself to match your male identity, the name your parents would have given you if you were born masculine.

“Can’t it be both,” you challenged.

“What’s your birth name?” Joshua asked. He stood further in the group, looking every bit like the ideal soldier despite the fighting they’d all barely recovered from. You’d resent him for it if he wasn’t so sweet.

You hesitated and then gave your name, the one you hadn’t spoken to yourself or others in 4 months. It felt wrong to say, clumsy on your tongue.

“Pretty,” Chan said, mild and perfunctory, “it suits you.”

You winced. “Please, don’t.” 

The soft words weren’t ones they had ever shared with you but now that your true gender was revealed, it was like talking to a distant suitor. It made your skin crawl and chest ache.

Seungcheol shifted in his chair and eyes snapped to him instinctively. It was a show of how well trained you all were and how respected the captain was.

“Why did you come here?” he asked quietly. He didn’t have to shout for you to know he was angry.

“I was conscripted,” you stated. The same as them all.

Seungcheol’s eyebrows knitted together. “The eldest son was conscripted.”

“And my father has no son, only me,” you pushed. “He... he barely survived the last war and I couldn’t let that happen. Not if I could help.”

“So you became a man,” Jeonghan said.

You sighed. “I became Hyunjin. Hyunjin is me.”

“But he’s not, is he?” Soonyoung interjected, shoulders tense, “Hyunjin is - was, the eldest son, ready to die for his country and you - if you’d died, you’d be someone’s daughter that would be devastated that you died in their place.”

You swallowed. You tried not to think about your mother and father, holding the secret of your disappearance to hide the shame, to stop the punishment that no doubt would come for you. It was illegal for women to fight in the imperial army and it was treason to infiltrate the military. You’d known that at the time you cut your hair short, stole your father’s horse and galloped off to meet the recruiters.

“I’d do it again,” you said, unexpectedly honest. For your father, you’d do anything to keep him safe just as he had your entire life. For your mother, you’d do anything to ensure that the love of her life was always there for her - you remembered how much it had broken her during the first war. And, selfishly, you think you’d do it again for the power you didn’t know you could hold and for them. Each and every one of those soldiers you’d met and cared for. You couldn’t imagine a world where you didn’t know them, even if they would come to regret your presence here.

It was Jihoon who said the quiet part aloud. “You should be executed for this.”

Your heart leaped fearfully in your chest before you could control it. You watched the uneasy shuffle of legs, the eyes that widened and looked away, the slow closing of fists. You watched Jihoon’s expression and how his eyes seemed so sad. You didn’t like him looking at you like this.

Minghao was the first to object. “Hyung, Captain,” he corrected himself, “you can’t-”

“It’s the law,” Jun interjected.

“The emperor would destroy us if he found out,” Seokmin pointed out, the first thing he’d said in your presence since he found out. He still wouldn’t look at you, even now. You’d shared a tent with him, spent the most amount of time with him as they marched in formation, and maybe that was why he was taking it the hardest. To see the usually so happy man like this was painful.

“I didn’t patch her up just for you to end her,” Mingyu said.

“What are we supposed to do?” Soonyoung challenged, “She’s not a pet.”

You looked at Seungcheol, at the man you respected more than you ever thought possible. “I’ll accept your judgment, Captain Choi.”

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You haven’t called me that in months.” You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to. His eyes flickered to Mingyu, “How long is recovery expected?”

“Another three weeks at least for me to feel comfortable,” the medic explained.

Seungcheol looked back at you. “Consider this a debt paid. A life for a life,” he murmured, “Hyunjin will stay with us on the march to the capital until Medic Kim says that you’re well. Then you’ll leave and never come back.”

It was the best scenario and yet the mercy only made disappointment curl in the pit of your stomach. “Yes Captain.”

“We don’t speak of this,” Seungcheol’s eyes landed on each in his battalion, men he trusted more than anything.

The room saluted. “Yes Captain.”

-

On the nights where the negative thoughts become too much, you think living like this might be a bigger punishment than execution. You hadn’t been alone in months and now the sudden absence felt like missing a limb. 

You still had your tent, the same one you’d been assigned to that first day but Seokmin had left it almost as soon as the decision to keep you around had been made - you’d caught him as he left, canvas bag thrown over his shoulder. He’d avoided looking at you as he scurried to Seungkwan and Mingyu’s tent. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did, shouldn’t have brought a lump to your throat or had tears burning the corner of your eyes. You didn’t sleep that night, trying desperately not to cry.

The next day, he still came to help you put down the tent after breakfast, preparing for the next day of marching. You murmured your thank you but got no response in turn, just the swing of the rolled up tent onto his broad shoulders.

You still had your meals given to you by Chan but now you were the last one to eat, just on  the outskirts of the warmth of the fire. Your fingers accidentally brushed the younger officers when you took the bowl and he nearly dropped it in the dirt in his eagerness to get away from you.

You couldn’t do basic training. You’d tried but Jihoon had stopped you with a tightness in his expression. “I think it’s best if you ask if Mingyu has something you can do.” Mingyu had given you a list of herbs to organise so it wasn’t that you were bored, but it was another line of separation that highlighted just how little they wanted to do with you.

You hated that it hurt you so much. As the only child of a great family, you were alone a lot of the time, time taken up by ceremonies and responsibilities that were suitable for a daughter. You did them with a smile because you had to. Running about to join the army might have been the first thing you’d actually done for yourself. You hadn’t expected to love it, to love the routine and the power it gave you, to love watching the sun rise and set as you marched through landscapes you never thought you’d see in your lifetime.

And the people. You adored them in a way you didn’t think it was possible to love those who weren’t in your family line.

You missed Seokmin’s laugh, how it shook his whole body and he had to lean on you for support. You missed Seungkwan’s singing at the most inopportune times, especially during the night watch. You missed Soonyoung’s jokes and Jihoon’s tired acceptance of them. 

You missed Vernon’s quiet correction of how you hold your sword and how Jun seemed to know exactly what you were feeling before you could even formulate the words yourself. You missed Jeonghan’s teasing and how Joshua fell into the trap every single time. 

You missed drinking tea in the early morning with Minghao after a long night patrol and joining Chan to hunt whatever animal was available to eat in the mountains. You missed Mingyu getting just a little too drunk on moonshine and spilling one too many secrets of his own secrets. You missed the shy way that Wonwoo smiled when his battalion teased him before cutting them down with the driest comments. You missed the way Seungcheol used to watch over you all, softness in his eyes.

You’d never get that again, you thought, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. No, the pain of what you had lost would just stay with you for the rest of the life your Captain had determined you got to keep. A lifetime of punishment indeed.

-

It’s on the fifth day of your social isolation that the camp was ambushed. You were in your tent when the noises started, familiar enough that they scratched down the back of your mind like a physical wound. You were up, moving instinctively. You grabbed at your sword - you still sharpened it daily, like you’d be taught, even if you weren’t being actively trained anymore - and pushed open the tent flaps to carnage.

Hun. A unit like yours, likely on their way to the battle front as you had been, and now reconvening further into the country. An attack of opportunity because how could anyone resist their enemy so unsuspectedly waiting for them?

Adrenaline thrummed through you and you were taking a step forward, ready to jump in, before you were blocked.

“Stay behind me,” Wonwoo insisted, already using his broad form to shove you where he wanted.

“I can fight,” you reminded, already skirting around, before the firm hand of Joshua pushed you back.

“Stay back,” he ordered firmly. “We can’t let you get hurt again.”

“Hurt saving your sorry arses,” you reminded him. There was something about the way he said it that stunk of ‘man protects woman’ and you wanted to scream. “I’m fine.”

“Would you just listen for once?” Soonyoung complained.

You pushed through again, back into formation. “You would never have let me sit out of a fight.”

“That was before,” Joshua murmured bitterly. His body was already moving to block you again, so you shoved him hard in the right shoulder.

“Your sudden realisation that I have tits does not determine whether I can stab someone,” you snapped. “You guys trained me. Do you have no faith in your skills?”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. Soonyoung looked like he wanted to strangle you. Joshua’s gaze danced around your face before sighing in defeat. “Just...stick close, okay?”

You tried not to let the relief thumping through your body show on your face. “Yes sir.”

Soonyoung spluttered. “Are you crazy?”

“She’ll follow us anyway,” Joshua sighed, “At least this way we won’t be distracted.”

“Speak for yourself,” Wonwoo grumbled but you ignored him.

It was strange how, when fighting, you felt more at peace than you had all week. Your side pulled uncomfortably around your stitches and you had no doubt that you might have opened it again but you didn’t care. How could you when you could almost pretend that things were back to normal?

If you dodged, another swung their sword to cut down the enemy. When Soonyoung ducked, you were swinging over his head, a clean cut across the jugular. An axe head clipped you before you could put more distance between you but Wonwoo was already there, delivering a pommel blow to the side of the attacker’s head. Joshua made formation calls and you all slipped into them instinctively, muscle memory.

Around you, you could see the others of your battalion, weapons blurring at the speed they are moving. You watched a Hun soldier kick Jun in the chest and Minghao jump in from the side, diverting attention to himself. You caught Chan using nearby branches as offensive weaponry so Jeonghan could cut at the tendons on the back of a heel.

It was bloody. It was exhausting.

You felt like you could breathe easier.

You didn’t move fast enough.

Oxygen was punched out of your chest by an arm, the owner shoving you until your back slammed against the trunk of a tree. You gripped at his hand, suddenly so aware of how much bigger the Hun were than you, and tried to use your legs to kick out. He took the blow with a wince and pressed down harder.

“A pretty boy,” he breathed, words twisting in an insult, “ever taken Mongolian cock before?”

He tightened his grip enough that you could see spots. Over the fur covered shoulder, you see your captain barrelling closer. “You ever,” you wheezed, “had your throat cut before?”

You could see the confusion flash through his eyes before they were replaced by shock and the sharp end of a blade through the side of his neck. The grip on you tightened and then loosened as he was shoved away, heavy body dropping like lead on the dirt floor. You landed unsteadily on your feet and coughed through sharp inhales.

“What are you doing here?” Seungcheol snapped.

“What I was trained to do, Captain Choi,” you rasped. 

You could see the vein in his forehead pulsing, but he couldn’t comment any further because there was another sword being thrust at him.

The fight continued until Mingyu put an axe head into the back of the last member of the Hun unit. Post-fight silence rose up to surround them and you couldn’t hear anything except your own heartbeat. Your eyes scanned over each of them, taking a mental stock of bruises and cuts and ultimately the fact that each one was still on two feet. A momentary relief, of familiarity, before eyes snapped to you and an irate captain was storming across the bloody ground towards you.

You straightened up instinctively, falling to attention.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Seungcheol demanded, “you should have stayed inside.”

“And let you fight the Hun without me?” you retorted, “Not a chance of that in hell, captain.”

“Do you have a death wish?”

“My death would bring honour to my family name,” you said firmly.

Seungcheol pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what exactly would happen to my name if I brought home your father’s daughter in a body bag?”

It hurt you to think about them, so you tried not to. “They would know I died for my country.”

Somewhere over his shoulder, you heard Seungkwan’s long groan of “we’re terrible influences.”

The captain clearly heard it too, his lips twitching upward in the corner before he could stop himself. It had been so long since you’d been on the receiving end of such a look and you held on to it greedily. You tried not to tremble at the way Seungcheol’s eyes dragged down you, assessing, heavier than they had been before.

“We should leave you at the next village,” he mused.

You retorted quickly, “You can’t.”

Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“A life for a life,” you whispered. “I have a life debt. I will not be dishonoured.”

Seungcheol looked at you incredulously before laughing, this breathy and full body thing that made you feel warm all over. You hadn’t heard him laugh like that before. “You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” he commented, “to willingly stay in a warzone.”

“It is my honour,” you explained.

“And mine too, I suppose,” Seungcheol sighed and then groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “This is insane. You’re insane. I’m insane.”

“So we really are going to keep her as a pet,” Soonyoung commented and then yelped when Jihoon elbowed him in the side. “Fuck, hyung, that hurt.”

“Do you have any idea how to talk to women?” Jihoon hissed.

“Only his mother,” Chan teased and let himself get pulled into a headlock by Soonyoung.

Seungcheol was still watching you. He didn’t quite look like your commander any more, expression softened at the edges. It was enough to make you feel breathless. “Don’t think you’re going to get out of clean up duty,” he commented.

“Seokmin is the one who keeps taking the tent roll,” you challenged.

The man in question squeaked, eyes wide as if caught under cannon fire, and a flush crossed the bridge of his nose. “I can’t just let her carry it,” he insisted, “it’s not right.”

“I did before,” you reminded me.

“My father would be so disappointed, I can’t,” Seokmin shook his head.

“Wait until he finds out that you slept next to an unmarried woman for 3 months,” Jeonghan joked. His words were light but the implication was clear.

“Nothing happened!” Seokmin insisted.

“I wouldn’t,” you said at the same time.

Your old tent mate looked offended. “What do you mean, wouldn’t? I’m a handsome guy!”

It was true. In your life before, everything about Seokmin - about any of them really - would have been positive in the list the matchmaker gave you. He’s from a good family, too genes, pretty smile, would treat you right. The thought had occurred to you that if you brought any one of these men home with the promise of grandchildren, your parents might forgive your transgressions that lead to this moment.

You forced your thoughts away from there immediately.  “Do you want me to want to fuck you?”

Seokmin looked like a fish out of water, gapping at you. Mingyu looked a mixture of delighted and disgusted. Jun had pushed his lips together to try not to laugh so obviously.

Seungcheol rubbed his temple. “No one is fucking anyone.”

Minghao booed. Jihoon cuffed the back of his neck.

“You’d be so lucky,” you said and rolled your eyes to the heavens so you didn’t collapse into a ball of embarrassment.

“Mingyu, check her stitches,” Seungcheol ordered, raising his voice in a very pointed change of subject, “and then we’re moving on before another unit tries to corner us. We move in 10.”

“Yes captain.”

-

Even before the truth came out, there was something about you that Mingyu found powerfully attractive. 

It made sense, he thought, that you weren’t who you originally claimed to be. It was in the way that you spoke, your view of the world and those around you. It was how you held everything with such gentleness, except for your sword. It was in how you smiled and he felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

Mingyu had known for a long time that he liked pretty things and you just happened to be one of the prettiest in this dark time.

You sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, undershirt tugged up so that he could reexamine your injury. He tried not to touch you too much - he’s never bandaged a woman until you, and there was some rule about decorum shouting at the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like his old teacher. Seungkwan rested against his own, back to you, taking the privacy as a time to rest before they start their march again - “and to keep you honest,” he had teased, making Wonwoo flush and demand that Mingyu explain himself.

You’d laughed, another pretty thing, at his embarrassment.

Now, adrenaline slipping through your fingers and the confidence you’d had in front of their captain was disappearing, you had only anxious sadness.

“Do you think it’ll go back to normal?” You muttered, a sweet confession that made Mingyu’s chest hurt.

He had been in a unique position of straddling the line between you, the woman they didn’t know, and the others, the men who didn’t know how to handle the lie. He’d had to, being the only medic in the unit and, in all honesty, he thought he liked you too much by then to actually keep his distance. 

You’d not said it but it was easy to tell how the last days had cut at you. When Jihoon had removed you from basic training, you’d come to him, as ordered, and sat in gloomy silence as you organised herb packets and lotions at his request.

Mingyu didn’t want to lie. “Maybe,” he answered, “but I do know what it didn’t feel right until we were fighting with you at our side.”

Seungkwan snorted. “That's so cheesy Gyu.”

Mingyu flushed in embarrassment but you laughed. “I love the cheese,” you promised. Your hand reached for his and squeezed, and he tried not to focus on how much bigger he was compared to you. Looking at you this close, he wondered how many one ever thought you were the eldest son at all.

“Just keep a few ingredients unstocked for me, just in case,” you said. It was hard to tell if you were joking or not but Mingyu answered with all honesty.

“Of course. Always.”

Seongkwan coughed as if that could cover the giggle he let out. The back of Mingyu’s neck warmed. You grinned at him and released your grip. He shouldn’t have missed it as much as he did. “So how’s the stitches looking?”

Mingyu’s eyes flickered down and back again. “In tact but barely.”

You winced. “Sorry to ruin your hard work.”

“It’ll scar if you don’t let it heal properly,” he pointed out.

“You all have scars, I should get a few of my own,” you commented. Mingyu bit down the urge to say it’s different when it’s you, the eldest daughter of a noble family. Instead, he cleaned the weeping edges of the wound and redressed it quietly. You thanked him, said you were going to repack and disappeared beyond the tent flaps.

Across the tent, Seungkwan tied the string on his bag. “You could be less obvious,” he teased.

Mingyu whipped his head around to his old friend with wide eyes. “Do you think she noticed?”

“I think she’s too polite to say anything, but she isn’t stupid,” he commented, “neither is anyone else.”

“Do you think the others,” Mingyu paused, as a thought occurred to him. “wait, do you -”

Seungkwan groaned when he stretched, slipping the drawstring back onto his back. “I think,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “Lady Jin doesn’t realise how much power she has over us. All of us.”

Mingyu thought about your smile again, the way it brightened every facet of your face, and the startling truth that he’d spill blood willingly to keep you happy. He pressed down on his knuckles, working out the cramp rising there. “All of us huh?” He mused.

Seungkwan’s lips stretched into a bashful smile and gave a one armed shrug. “What can I say? That’s a girl worth fighting for.”

Mingyu barked out a laugh. “Now who’s being cheesy?”

-

“Are you sure about this?” Jihoon murmured.

Seungcheol sighed. “What choice do I have? You heard the lady.”

It still felt strange to say. When you had stumbled into the camp, imperial summons in your hand, Soonyoung had thought you did not look like a solider. But then, that’s the problem with conscription - boys with luxuries and those without food in their bellies showed up in equal measure, and it was part of his job as a General to make them war ready. It wasn’t something Soonyoung enjoyed but it was something he was proud of.

Hyunjin had been weak. Makes sense now, he thought, because no noble family would have their eldest daughter doing any activity to build muscle or stamina. You were smart though, he’d recognised, could reroute the unit in a moments notice, and determined. You picked up the sword when you dropped it. You walked on shaking legs. You fell over tree roots and got back up.

Soonyoung respected you.

“That lady shouldn’t be here,” he said, firm.

The Kwon family was one of nobility and as the second son, a career in the military was expected. As a child, he’d grown up with all the rules and expectations and social agreements drilled into him. “Your honour,” his father had said, “is everything.”

Soonyoung had never felt so dishonourable than when you were dragged before them, a wound in the side of your torso and the damning truth that you weren’t Hyunjin after all.

Lady Jin.

We should have protected her, he thought with a tight jaw. He knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so. They had all been dealing with the new truth in some way - the reality that bumped up against their previous understanding, the closeness they had gained, the feeling of betrayal at being lied to by someone who they considered family.

“But she’s here now,” Jihoon reminded. His lips flickered into a fond smile, only recognisable to those who knew him well. “With a life debt.”

“So she stays,” Seungcheol repeated, “until we get to the imperial city and can send her home.”

It was what he wanted and yet it still struck him uncomfortably. Home meant not here, not with them. Soonyoung shook the thought away - he was not ready to follow it to an unfortunate conclusion.

“Lady Jin is Hyunjin to whoever asks,” Seungcheol added, “if someone were to find out…”

“They won’t,” Jihoon was confident, “this unit wouldn’t do anything to put her at risk.”

“How can you be sure?” Soonyoung asked.

The shorter General laughed, his grin stretching wide. “Haven’t you seen how they look at her? Everyone thinks they’re being so sly.”

“Everyone?” Seungcheol arched an eyebrow. He didn’t sound upset, only surprised by the revelation.

“Not me,” Soonyoung was quick to refuse.

Jihoon’s eyes flickered to him and gave a small shrug. “Whatever you say, Soonie.”

---------------

🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonandroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @itsmooniebaby @chandlxa @btsgangleader @satsuri3su @diearama @aethnie @sh1n3-4h4na @ja3hwa @hopelesslygroovyraven @everglow98 @hypnoticviolet @weasleytwins-41 @katsukis1wife @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @hope122598 @Wolfhallows4 @Addi-3 @i-amtrash @Spenceatiny18 @christiinee @Victoriaaf @hannahdinse8 @okiedokiespookie @answer-the-sirens @iamagnesrrr @nanazuly @hope122598 @jiimtaee @becklynpro @joongsfantasy @salvaltor @Kandy108 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @intowxnderland @Fertileleaf @soso59love-blog @ramadiiiisme @herpoetryprincess @bewitchedbitxh @heaven-s-hell @purelyhated @loverracha @liightlizard @elenas-kaleidoscope @m8teez @firestrike04 @berryguks @puppyminnnie @enthusiasticmigraine @parkairis18 @1000aki @veronica123 @soulphoenix1618 @s0ngm1ng1 @kimsaerom @s1ar4s @jbear00 @tghock @madifreakinggriffinblake (join the taglist)

prologue

AN INCONCEIVABLE AMOUNT OF TIME AGO, a grief unlike any other was borne of a mortal man. It was tremendous and ugly and relentless, touching every corner of the man's world. It warped every beautiful thing he knew into something just as ugly as itself. It lied to him like deception was art and it was the master. It told him life was no longer worth living, nothing could ever be beautiful again, no place would ever feel like home. It blended the days together until the mortal man didn't know how long it had been since his life became so silent. 

I tell you this grief was unlike any other because grief with nowhere to go… lingers. It wakes up beside you, replaces your food at every meal, walks alongside you, sings you to sleep and lies awake next to you at night, whispering horrid things in your ear. At some point, it starts to become its own being. It starts to become you.

The man's grief became hungry, feeding on his pain voraciously, the taste of it so acrid, devastating, and delicious. And it found ways to make it even more flavorful. It played with its food, wondering what the anguish would turn into if it made the man's loved ones turn their backs to him. What would the desolation become if it took away his livelihood and his prospects? What would the misery feel like if it conjured phantasms of what the man had lost to meet him around every corner, sending him chasing after illusions that dissolved behind walls and crowds?

The delicacy of his despair increased tenfold.

Then, Grief had a brilliant idea. What would that all look, smell, and taste like if one night, he came to the mortal man and offered him a small hope? Promised him his life before these misfortunes? Gave him something to hold onto? All in exchange for a tiny price?

What would hope do to a human as desperate as this one?

Grief may have been borne of the mortal man, but an inconceivable amount of time ago, the devil was borne of grief. 

dusk

FALLING ASLEEP IN THE CAR hardly ever results in a restful sleep for you. You nod off with your neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, you spend the entire time in a weird half-awake state, and when you fully come to, it's over the course of several seconds as you feel the car exiting the highway or reaching a stop sign. You fight from acknowledging that it's time for you to give up your weak grasp on sleep and just open your eyes. But something tells your body you're reaching your destination, and you slowly wake to find you're right. You're one turn away.

Waking up now isn't anything like that. You open your eyes like you simply blinked from one second to the next—not as if you've been asleep. There is no slow swaying of your body to tell you it's time to wake up, no gentle pull from a fragile dream state. Just an abrupt shove back into consciousness you don't even recall slipping out of.

You find yourself seated in the back of Maya's car, exactly where you'd been when you must have dozed off, except now, you're alone. The car is neatly parked on the side of the road, like your friends thought this was a nice place to stop for a break. You can't imagine why because there's nothing but cold, silent wood for miles along the winding highway.

You should be sandwiched between Jackson and Chris, who had been passing a 40 back and forth, drunkenly spilling malt liquor on you on more than one occasion. Wendy should be in the front passenger seat, laughing at whatever Maya was saying as she drove—something about who was going to be at the party. The party you weren't at right now.

“Come.”

You look to your right, where you swear you heard a man speak to you. All you're met with is a quickly darkening wood and the barely-there reflection of yourself in the window. You pause, brows furrowing a little the longer you look at yourself. Has the look in your eyes always been so… distant? Have you always looked this tired? So pale? Your classes this quarter had been taking a toll on you, but you didn't realize how… haggard you looked.

“It's time.” 

“What?” you find yourself asking before you can register it's the voice again—muffled, far away, and belonging to someone who isn't in the car with you. You think you should be scared. You think you should feel anything other than placated. You aren't and you don't. “Time for what?” You wait a beat and when you don't hear it again, you hesitantly call out, “Jackson?”

Of course, with all the windows up, you don't hear anything else. You don't know what to do with yourself, sitting here alone. Did your friends stop to pee in the woods? Did the car break down, forcing them to find help? You should probably just wait for them to return.

As soon as the thought enters your head and you start to slouch against the seat in preparation to wait, a horrible feeling seizes your chest, squeezing tight and robbing you of your breath. All the air in Maya’s car suddenly feels like it's been sucked out by a vacuum, and in a panic, you flinch away from your seat, hands fumbling against the door to your right as you struggle to unlock it and throw it open.

When you finally do, you fall right out of the backseat and onto the side of the road, dead leaves crunching under your weight as you gasp for lungfulls of crisp, cold air—so clean and icy, it stings your chest in a very different way than being in the car did.

Through the ragged sounds of your wheezing, you think there are words dancing through the trees to get to you, but you’re not sure this time. After a few moments, you finally catch your breath. Maybe I’ll go look for them, you think instead. The storm in your chest turns into a soothing calm at the thought.

You press your palms against the asphalt and brace, pushing yourself up to your knees and looking up at the seemingly never-ending woods before you. Dusk is stealing whatever remaining light the day lent quickly. The trees are growing darker by the second, tall and ominous and daunting as they tower over you. Fog rolls in, curling just inches above the floor like it's reaching for you. Beckoning to you.

You recall the words you've used to describe these same woods your entire life: creepy, terrifying, dark, nightmare fuel. You've been warned again and again never to enter them—alone or accompanied. You've heard rumors about cults that thrive in these woods, away from prying eyes. Feral people who choose to stay in the safety of this wilderness rather than join society. Right now, though, the only word you can really come up with to describe it is… peaceful. In some twisted way, maybe even beautiful.

“I can show you something beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” you repeat pathetically, frowning as you stare into the increasing blackness. You think you can see someone walking between the trees if you stare hard enough. You think it could also be a trick of the darkness. 

“Yes,” the voice answers this time. “Beautiful. Grand. Magnificent.”

“What… what is it?” 

You shiver as what feels like lips, ice cold and rigid, graze your ear and the voice whispers: "You'll have to follow me.” 

Don't.

It's a new voice, and its rage-laced authority snaps you out of your daze. You gasp at the ice-cold sensation on your ear as you frantically scramble away before turning to find nothing but the same car you exited. No one there, no space for anyone to even crouch behind you and touch their lips to your ear.

Leave. RU—

“YOUR FRIENDS CAME TO HAVE FUN!” The voice suddenly bellows, becoming so loud, you instinctively shove the heels of your hands into your ears and cringe into the cold metal of the car. The fear lasts only half a moment more before your body settles back into the calmness you felt upon escaping the car, the faint sound of music drifting over your cupped hands. You let them fall back down to your lap. “Don't you want to join them? I know where they are.”

“Where are they?” you ask, slowly pushing yourself off the car. You stare into the darkness like that's who you're talking to. 

“I'll show you.”

You squint, straining your eyes to see past the first few dozen feet into the woods. You think you can see the shape of someone moving through the trees like they’re almost dancing amongst them. The shadows swallow the image up before you can say for sure. 

When you were seven, Maya dared you to run into the woods as far as you could for one minute before turning around and coming back. When you were 16, a boy at school asked you to hook up with him in the privacy of these trees. And when you were 20, you decided you'd never go anywhere near them again after they found the body of a girl who'd been missing for six months. Every time you so much as glanced in the direction of these woods, you felt your heart drop into your stomach, gut twisting almost painfully as it told you to run far away and to stay away.

Right now, though, you don't feel scared. You don't feel apprehensive. You just feel… nothing, really. And wouldn't you have alarm bells ringing in your head if this wasn't safe to do?

“You know where all of them are?” you ask, slowly rising to your feet and craning your neck to see if you’ll catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure again. 

“I do.” 

You take a hesitant step forward off the asphalt, even more dead leaves crunching under your foot. You look down at the sound. The ground is so littered with leaves, you can’t see the dirt beneath your foot. You frown a little seeing how dirty your sneakers look, though, caked in mud that looks like it dried hours ago. A spot of red at the end of the toe box. 

“Come on,” he says again. You take a few more slow steps, and when you breach the treeline, you feel an overwhelming sense of relief. “That’s a good girl.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking. It could be five minutes; it could be five hours. All you know is that the longer you walk, the lighter you feel—physically and in every other way. You start to feel like you can float, like you’ve never felt a bad feeling in your life, like everything is beautiful. The darkness of the trees towering over you is more and more breathtaking in beauty than it is in uneasiness. Every noise, near or far, seems to harmonize with the distant music you can still hear. The fog growing thicker and thicker feels like a blanket weighing down and suffocating your anxieties, your skin immune to the cold of the autumn night. 

You don’t see anyone or anything else as you walk, but you don’t have to question if you’re going in the right direction. You just know you are. And when you start to see lights in the distance—seemingly appearing out of nowhere one at a time, softly bouncing like buoys bobbing in the ocean—you know you’ve arrived. The music, pleasant and mollifying, begins to grow louder as you approach the warm glow surrounding the tents in the middle of the clearing up ahead.

When you get close enough to see through the fog clearly, you realize it’s a circus of sorts, not quite like the ones you grew accustomed to traveling through town—the ones with the rickety fair rides outside, the sad, dirty tents still wrinkled from where they were unfolded from the moving truck… so few people roaming around, the employees were all just lounging about in their ridiculous costumes, sharing cigarettes. 

No, this circus looks like a small, glamorous city teeming with joy and liveliness. Crowds of elegant, gorgeous people wander, laughing, smiling, and enjoying various attractions; the only one you can make out from where you stand involves a ball of fire bursting into the air above a wall covering its source. You can hear the delighted cheers every time another plume of smoke dissipates into the air.

Several pristine, velvety tents of a deep, rich purple are scattered among the grounds, all facing one, grand, glittering tent with three peaks, small black flags gently flapping in the breeze atop them. You can't tell if it's black or purple, but it almost reflects the still-darkening sky. You think it might be the most stunning thing you've ever seen, and you watch with envy as several people disappear into it, positive that whatever is inside is all the more impressive than the outside.

“Why is this here…?” you ask, either to yourself or your new friend.

“It's been waiting for you.”

“Me?” A hum of affirmation. “What has…?”

“The Midnight Menagerie.” It's a whisper that passes over you like wind, gone before you can register its sensation on your skin.

The voice doesn't bid you farewell, but somehow, you know you're alone now that he's delivered you to your destination. Before you can question it, you continue walking the last few dozen yards to the circus, your steps quickening with excitement the closer you get.

You stop just short of the grounds, which are closed in by a white brick wall a couple of feet taller than you are. The gates of the entrance are wide open, the name of the circus displayed in an iron arch above it, the letters curling and curving just as prettily as the shadows you thought you saw earlier. The circus had been calling you, you realize. Overcome with the immense desire to lose yourself in the crowds within, you eagerly take a step across the threshold of the gate. 

You feel the heat before you see the fire. It's toasty on your face and it steals the air from around you for the second time tonight. The bright orange glow of the flame follows, striking the ground where your foot landed, and drawing a line across the gateway just as you jump away.

You gasp and move back, eyes widening at the line of fire now licking a burnt scar into the path where your foot had just been. The music stutters a little as you look up and meet the gaze of who you can only assume is a fire breather. He's stood on top of a circular pedestal, no doubt his makeshift stage to entertain guests as they walk by. Curiously, despite the earlier cheers, though, no one pays him any mind now. 

The man is tall—even moreso with the stage—looking down at you with a carefully blank expression. He has a faint scar running through his right eye, a different color than the natural brown of his left: a blue so icy, it's almost white.

“Why did you do that?” you ask dumbly. You're not sure that's the question you wanted to ask, but your disappointment at being barred entry smothers you.

“You're not wel—” He chokes on his own words, eyes narrowing like he knew this was coming. You frown at him as he purses his lips tightly, every muscle in his body tightening like he's bracing himself against something you can't see. 

A wave of black suddenly blankets the fire, wrestling with it in a way you know should startle you. Instead, you're fascinated by the shadows, watching as they push and writhe and move with wild, unnatural motions that make it look like they're attempting to mimic human movement. They smother the line until the flames are just embers in the charred earth, disappearing along with it. In their place, you find another man standing in the middle of the gateway. Long, lithe, and exuding grace even as he just stands there.

“Don't mind him,” he says, not bothering to spare the fire breather a glance. “Soonyoung is our feistiest performer.”

The fire breather stumbles off the platform suddenly, staggering away like he's in pain, shadow nowhere to be found. Your eyes follow him, something akin to concern bubbling in your gut as the music stutters a few more times.

The new stranger cuts your line of sight, his lips turning up in a gentle smile as he draws your gaze to his eyes. 

“I'm Minghao,” he says softly. “Welcome to The Midnight Menagerie.” He steps aside and extends his arm to show off the circus. The music swells, and you feel your excitement return as you finally step over the threshold and into the glow, the scorched ground long forgotten to you.

“Thank you,” you say, looking around in wonder. “It's been such a long time.” You're not sure why you say that, but it feels right. After all, who knows how long you've been walking.

“Or not long at all,” Minghao says cryptically, eyes twinkling under the string lights. “Come. Let's show you around, hm?”

You follow obediently, taking the arm he offers you and looping yours around it. You walk the grounds like you've known each other forever, chatting and giggling as he points out games, snacks that fill the air with the most delicious aromas, and performers on pedestals, much like Soonyoung. You frown a little at the thought of the stranger. What was it he was going to say to you? Was it that you weren't welcome? Did he—

“Ah! Looks like I'm running out of time,” Minghao exclaims just as you two stop in front of the glittering big top you saw from afar. It's even more magnificent up close.

You think the circus was probably named after the tent. Or maybe the tent was fashioned to match its namesake. Either way, it looks like someone found the darkest place on Earth, plucked the midnight right out of the sky—stars and all—and wove it into the fabric that would house this circus and its performers. Your awe must show on your face because Minghao grins.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

You nod. “Like the stars themselves are sewn right into the tent.” He hums in agreement, though you can tell the wonder has long worn for him.

“Are you ready to go in?”

“In?”

He nods excitedly. “It's almost time for my performance.”

Your eyes widen and your arm falls away from him. “You're a performer!”

“I am,” he says, lips pressing together like he's hiding his amusement at your surprise. 

“What do you do?”

“I'll show you.”

He reaches forward and lifts the flap, and you swear the stars on the fabric dance away to accommodate the movement. It's dark inside—so dark, you're not even sure anyone else is in there. You look back at Minghao, a little hesitant. He encourages you with a single nod and a smile so friendly, it expels any doubt you have. You duck into the tent, your guide right behind you.

You walk in the dark—unnervingly cold and silent—for only a brief moment before the shadows give way to a ring full of spectators, all eagerly awaiting the next act. The circle encasing the stage itself is empty, but it's clear everyone is anticipating Minghao to take it because they all begin to cheer upon his entrance. You startle at the sound, booming and excited and more… uniform than you expected it to sound. 

“Take a seat,” Minghao says, gently pushing the small of your back toward an empty spot on the bench nearest to you. You turn back to him just before you take it. Shadows lick at his feet before snaking up his calves, knees, thighs and cradling his waist. “And enjoy the show…”

With that, the shadows swallow him up whole just as they did the flames, disappearing into thin air. You flinch down into your seat. You force yourself to look away from the space Minghao was just standing in and focus on the spectators around you. They make no noise and show no reaction now, sitting with rigid postures, hands in their laps as they stare blankly straight ahead at the still-empty stage. 

“Did you… did you see that?” you ask, leaning toward the woman next to you. 

The music stutters to a complete stop as she jerks her head toward you in a series of short, stilted, and labored motions—like her neck hasn't been oiled in decades and has grown rusty. When her eyes meet yours, they're wide open and uncomfortably red, and her smile looks like it's held up by fish hooks tucked into each corner of her mouth. You're filled with inexplicable sadness, and you flinch a second time.

“See what?” she asks, voice saccharine.

Before you can decide whether or not to answer, the lights go out and a voice announces over the speakers: “Put your hands together for our next act!” The woman's neck snaps back forward in one go, her eyes on the stage once more. “An enigma cloaked and dripping in black, he rules the dark—commands the source of all your fears… feeds off the light of life. Beware of being pulled too close to his orbit… I bring you: THE PRINCE OF SHADOWS!”

If you thought the ring without lights was dark, you were mistaken. As soon as Minghao's stage name is announced, shadows erupt from the center of the ring in billows of black, stealing any remnants of light in the room until you can't see your hand in front of your face. Along with it comes silence so loud, you feel your eardrums vibrating.

“Yes. I see now,” the saccharine voice whispers into the void next to you.

Like he's taking a breath and inhaling what was always his, the shadows come hurdling back to the stage, disappearing where Minghao now stands. His gaze goes from the floor directly to you, and the music that plays then is slow to start, the sound of strings being plucked delicately as the man starts to move—just as slowly, one limb, one joint, one finger moving to each note. You realize his act is a dance when the music picks up, beautiful and eerie voices somehow harmonizing perfectly with Minghao's body. He moves his body like he has no bones, bending and swooping every which way and you think he looks a lot like the shadows he calls on. 

The music swells, transitioning from a peaceful, almost melancholy tune to one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. Goosebumps erupt across your skin as shadows start to leak out of Minghao's arms—viscous, lazy, and leaden, almost like it's just waking up from a deep sleep.

Then, as the music begins to feel what you can only describe as violent, the shadow takes the form of a human being itself. Minghao turns to it, unperturbed by the shadow that begins to mirror his every move. Like they're tethered together, they dance facing one another, the intensity and desperation in Minghao's eyes growing. 

“The Prince of Shadows…” a voice whispers, much too soft to be the announcer over the speaker. “So elegant. Graceful. Lovely. So…” The voice warps slightly, sounding a bit like several voices, most of them deep and disjointed. “Lonely.”

The shadow being stands still now even as Minghao continues to dance. It has no discernible features—no eyes, no nose, no mouth—yet you can tell it watches him closely with little regard for his growing despair. Loneliness blooms in your own chest, its shadows spreading inside you until you want to run onto the stage to embrace Minghao.

As soon as you have the thought, the sound of two hands clapping together twice echoes through the tent, producing wind strong enough to chase away the shadows—Minghao along with them. It isn't until the dancer is gone that you realize you had been holding your breath. You gasp and inhale your first breath of air in… you're not sure how long. You press a hand to your chest to keep it from heaving, looking around to find the other spectators unaffected. They continue to stare forward just as they did when they were awaiting Minghao.

“A little too… macabre for my taste,” a soft, velvety voice says. It brushes up against a long-slumbering memory in the corners of your mind.

You turn over your shoulder to find the outline of a man—tall, broad, and backlit by the blinding stage lights behind him as he descends the stairs down to your seat. You bring a hand up to shade your eyes, narrowing them and straining to see the man's face between your fingers. The lights sweep to the other side of the tent, granting you reprieve. You let your hand fall and find yourself face-to-face with a man who looks so achingly familiar, nostalgia and devastation fill your mouth—so thick and heavy, it threatens to choke you. 

You know his hair like your hand already made a home in it once before, fingers carding through the long black strands lazily, nails scratching his scalp as he began to doze off. You can mix paints to match the exact shade of his skin on the very first try. You look at him now and know you've looked into those dark eyes your whole life—enough to be aware they're a lot more expressive than this. They're guarded. He's guarded.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat and fail, coughing around it instead.

It isn't until he comes to a stop on the step next to your seat that you realize he's flanked by a massive tiger. It sticks close to him, muscular and majestic, its white fur shiny and smooth like it’s combed through every hour. Your eyes widen and you freeze, but your body doesn't allow you to react the way you think you normally would. The man tilts his head at you before following your gaze down to the animal, which stares at you with piercing eyes—one blue, one brown. The tiger seems familiar in a different way—like someone you may have passed walking down the street once.

How absurd. I've never met a tiger. You actually giggle at the thought before frowning again.

“You have a tiger.”

“I do,” he says. It pays him no mind as it continues to stare at you. “I have many… animals. I'm the keeper here.”

“The… animal keeper…?” He nods. “Oh” is all you can say. He sits comfortably in the silence that follows, but you rush to fill it. “Is it… nice?” You nod at the tiger.

He laughs a little. “‘It'? The tiger is male. You can say ‘he.’” You flush at the correction. “He's very nice. One of the kindest souls I've ever met.”

The tiger's eyes finally leave you, turning up to look at his owner. When he does, the light floods his face more clearly, and you can see the large feline has a scar running through his right eye. 

“Are you enjoying the show?”

“I…” your voice gets stuck in the lump and nothing else comes out.

His smile quirks up a little higher. “Mind if I sit?” 

“Um,” you glance back at the odd woman next to you to find she left in the time you've been staring at this man. 

You immediately scoot over, and he thanks you as he sits down, one foot going up to rest against the back of the seat in front of him. You realize the people in front of you are gone too. When you take a look around… you find that everyone is gone. It's quiet now. The air feels a little colder, the lights a little more clinical, and your joy a little less potent.

“If you're not enjoying the show, you can always l—” he clears his throat like he just saved himself from choking on his own words. He gives you a slightly pained smile before saying, “You shouldn't spend time doing things you don't enjoy.”

“I'm enjoying…” Even you hear the uncertainty in your voice. “I think.”

“You think,” he repeats. His expression suggests he's amused but his eyes are devoid of any feeling. Any depth. Any life. He watches you with a soft, barely-there smile on his lips. “Well, maybe you need to see more to make up your mind.”

“Maybe.” You pause, remembering your manners. “How about you? Are you enjoying the show? Even though, y’know… you’re kind of part of it.”

He laughs a little at that. “I shouldn’t say no since, y’know… I’m kind of part of it,” he borrows your own words, making you laugh along. As soon as you do, his posture loosens a bit and he becomes more generous with his smile, though it still stays close-lipped. He’s handsome—remarkably so, actually. Handsome to the point that he doesn’t seem quite real. But the smile isn’t right. “But… no. I’m tired of it.”

The atmosphere grows increasingly lackluster by the second, Mingyu’s very presence seeming to wipe it away before your very eyes. You nod. “Night after night… that would be tiring.” He nods but offers nothing else. “When is your performance?”

“Ah, well, I’ve already gone,” he responds, your disappointment fast-acting as it blankets you.

“That’s a shame. I missed you.” 

You meant you missed his performance, and you’re sure that he understands that. Still, his face falls a little—enough that his smile no longer feels as genuine, just something to make himself approachable. 

“You did,” he says regretfully. “But my act isn’t all that anyway. All I do is throw a few treats at this big cat.” He nods at the tiger, which is still sitting next to him, clearly at attention and scanning the environment for dangers. That “big cat” glances at him like he’s peeved, and it erases how intimidating the animal is. 

“I think it’s amazing you can even get a wild animal to trust you enough to throw treats at it,” you say. “I’m sure a tiger like that wouldn’t really tolerate anything being thrown at it. Treats or not.”

The tiger huffs and finally relaxes, laying down at Mingyu’s feet. The handler grins—a full one with his teeth showing now—and your breath catches. You get an overwhelming sense of deja vu so strong that you’re convinced you know exactly what is going to happen next. You frown.

“What's your name?” you ask. He raises his eyebrows at the abrupt question. You think he’ll ask you what’s yours first.

“What's yours?” He proves you right. For some reason, you acquiesce and give it to him. His smile slowly fades and he nods once as he repeats it. There’s familiarity in it. If you think an echo could be a feeling, that’s what you feel stirring in your chest now. “That's a beautiful name.”

“And yours? It's only fair you give it to me now.”

He stares at you hard before he tells you: “Kim Mingyu.” He bows his head. “At your service.”

For a reason you don't care all that much to delve into, the words make you smile. The music drifts back into the tent from outside, and Mingyu, seemingly noticing the slight change in both you and your surroundings, clears his throat loud enough that he drowns out the music.

“The next act is ready.”

“Hm? How do—”

The cheers startle you, and you look around to find the crowd back in their seats like they never even left. The woman next to you shouts and claps in perfect unison with everyone else, ignoring the way you're staring at them all. When they continue to cheer for an uncomfortably long time, you start to feel your uneasiness seeping back into your system.

“Are you alright?”

You turn back to Mingyu to find him looking at you almost indifferently. But you know his face. You can't tell how or why but you do, and you see hope in his eyes. He brings a single finger up to gently rest between your brows, and you inhale sharply at the contact, the sensation feeling like a truck hitting you. You think you fall backwards as you're engulfed in black, the ominous sounds of applause fading, replaced by only a feeling. Peace.

“Do you believe in heaven?” You recognize Mingyu's voice.

“I think so,” you feel your lips form the words.

“So you must believe in hell.”

“Why must I believe in such a thing simply because I believe in heaven?” this version of you asks, amused.

“That line of thinking is so like you.” He says it with adoration. 

“And what do you mean by that?”

“It is simply impossible for you to believe the worst in anything or anyone… yet you jump at the opportunity to believe something beautiful lies ahead.”

“Well… what if something does?”

“I already have you. What could possibly be more beautiful ahead of us?”

You open your eyes to find that you haven't moved. If Mingyu notices the way your breathing changed or the blood that rushed to your cheeks, he doesn't say. He simply presses his finger softly against you to smoothen the crease of your confused frown.

“You seem like you have a question,” he observes, mouth staying just slightly ajar as his finger slowly traces the bridge of your nose down to the tip and down to your philtrum, where he rests in the tiny divot for only a moment. He takes his hand back before he can decide whether or not he's going to trace the outline of your lips too, and the thought alone has your heart pounding. “You can ask me anything.”

“I…” Without his finger there, your brows furrow once more. The too-perfect applause around you still doesn't stop. “I think I… I do have questions…” He leans in, the hope in his eyes growing. It makes you want to remember what you're so curious about. “Did… do you believe—”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer bellows into the speaker twice as loudly as before. Mingyu's face stays stoic, but you see the hope die right before your eyes. Still, he smiles at you and nods at the stage, motioning for you to redirect your attention. You do, finding the stage lights wildly sweeping across the tent as the announcer continues. “Prepare yourselves for a dance of devotion: two souls so inseparable, they've forgotten where one ends and the other beginssss…” The voice comes down to a whisper. “The Sonsssss of Lamia.”

The lights all come together to the center of the ring, where two people stand turned to one another, their heads resting on each other's shoulders. You can only see the face of one of them, and his eyes are closed, everything about him so relaxed, he could be asleep. When their act doesn't begin immediately, you look at Mingyu, whose eyes are so distant, you doubt he's watching the performers. They slide to you when he notices you watching him.

“Who is Lamia?” you ask softly.

“A mythological queen,” he says, not bothering to whisper. “A god fell in love with her, and driven by jealousy, his wife cursed her, forcing her to eat her own children. She went mad with grief and became a monster.”

“A monster?”

He nods solemnly. “A snake.”

What sounds like the strings of a violin fill the tent, the stage demanding your attention once more. The men are still in the same position except now, the one facing your side of the audience has opened his eyes, and he's staring right at you. He's stunning, the corner of his lips curled up into a soft, natural smile even though his face remains expressionless. 

Both of them slowly lift their cheeks off their partner's shoulder, their movements in perfect sync. They turn their heads so they're facing one another, but only for a moment before they begin to circle the stage until the one whose eyes you met has his back to you. He slowly bends backwards with unfathomable control until his palms are flat against the floor, his gaze on you upside down. His partner, now with a clear path to you, stares just as openly. You realize the two look enough alike that they could maybe be twins. But this one, although just as breathtakingly beautiful, has a glint of mischief in his eyes whereas the other… you look down at him. His eyes are empty.

The corner of the mischievous one's mouth turns up into a smirk before he reaches forward to rest his hands on his partner's hips. He shifts his weight onto him, and with the same amount of control as the man in the backbend, he arches his back and begins lifting his legs up behind him until he's in a perfect C-shape. 

“They're contortionists.”

Mingyu hums. “They're a lot of things.”

You think you'd find the statement amusing if you didn't feel a growing discomfort in your gut.

The two dive deep into their routine, bending and stretching and flexing every which way, never not touching each other. Every time you're sure they're too tangled up in each other to possibly continue, they prove you wrong. And it's almost disturbing… how intertwined the two become without having to think twice about it—like their bodies know where the other's is at all times. They wrap around each other so gracefully so easily, and you understand why their act is named after a woman who became a snake. Slithering is the best word you can use to describe what they do with one another.

The violin turns a touch sweeter, and the two men easily fall into a dance, the mischievous one holding his partner's hip with one hand and cradling his hand in the other. They waltz around the ring, one of them spinning or being lifted every so often. It feels like hypnosis, your gaze being forcefully dragged across the stage after them. Then, as one spins into a turn, you notice the hand that remains connected to his partner's doesn't quite follow his movement, almost like it's stuck in mud. You tilt your head curiously but neither of the performers pay it any mind.

The spin ends with his back pressed against his partner's chest. He leans his head back onto his shoulder, exposing the smooth expanse of his neck. His partner wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him to his body tightly, and he smiles at the sensation, head lolling a bit in pleasure on his shoulder.

“Are they… lovers?” you whisper, perplexed because you thought they had been twins this entire time. The position feels too intimate for twins.

“Would it comfort you to think of them that way?” It's a question you don't expect and it stumps you.

“I don't know,” you admit.

Whatever Mingyu says next is lost to you because the mischievous one leans forward and affectionately caresses his partner's bare skin with the tip of his nose. And as he begins to drag it across the vein running down his neck, your stomach plummets. You watch in horror as the skin on the tip of his nose sticks to his partner's, clinging to it, pulling taut, ripping away when he gets too far down. And when it meets his neck in an otherwise gentle kiss, the man's mouth does the same, the pink of his lips bonding to the tan of his partner’s skin.  

A dance of devotion, the announcer had called this. Two souls so inseparable… they’ve forgotten where one ends and the other begins. 

The mischievous one’s fingers press hard into his partner’s arms. It would be bruising for anyone else. For them, it’s gruesome. His fingers disappear into his flesh, the skin growing over the appendage with enough give that you can see it wiggle underneath. And all his partner does is sigh deeply and sink further into his chest. It’s clear the feeling elicits pleasure for him. 

Your discomfort is no longer growing. It's exploded into its own monster inside you, taking root in every corner of your body until you're completely rigid, afraid that any movement will attract the contortionists’ attention. Afraid that they'll come for you next, their skin sticking to and reaching for yours. Hungrily clawing at you and claiming you for itself. Devouring you whole until you’re no longer you.

The feeling in your stomach turns from nausea to an ugly, stinging ache. You rest your hand against it, wincing when you think of your skin touching your own skin.

“Contortionists… gymnasts… dancers…” Mingyu lists in boredom as you watch the mischievous one most literally tear his hands and arms from his partner's where their skin had melded together, and spin him around to face him again. You yank your own hand away from your body. You have never wanted anything as badly as you want to be able to look away right now, but you can't. It wasn’t so far off to think of their performance as hypnosis. You’re entranced, if not completely under the control of the two. “They also do trapeze.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak without throwing up as soon as you open your mouth, so you don’t. The two men face each other once again, standing incredibly still as the violin screeches to an ugly, squeaky stop. You try to swallow your anxiety away—try to find the delight and bliss you had mere minutes ago. You fail as you anticipate the moment they inevitably touch again. 

They take a step closer and when they're toe-to-toe, their heads tilt slightly in opposite directions and the terror paralyzes when you realize they're about to kiss. 

You watch, holding your breath because if you release it right now, you're convinced something terrible will happen to you. Just before their lips touch, they pause, the same pair of eyes you met at the very beginning of the act flickering over to you. And they aren't empty the way you first mistook them for. It feels a lot worse than nothing. It feels like staring into a pool of cruelty.

As if he can hear you coming to your epiphany, his already naturally smiling lips quirk up even higher, and his tongue runs across them so fast, you're not sure you even saw it. Then, he blinks, and his eyes turn a rich shade of gold, his pupils becoming narrow vertical slits of black. 

The ache in your stomach turns so sharp, it becomes near-unbearable, and when you finally release your breath to gasp at the pain, the two drive your misery home and finally kiss, the skin of their lips immediately fusing together, strings of tan and pink stretching and grasping and clinging. You feel tears springing to your eyes when you see glimpses of their tongues intertwining in places where their skin parts for brief moments. Your hand cradles your abdomen despite your fear that you'll get stuck to yourself. The pain is too great.

“Their trapeze act is really something to see,” the animal handler tells you like this is all normal. “They fly through the air…” A cold breeze passes over you. “Catapult from swing to swing… even launch themselves through hoops.”

The words make you even sicker than you already are, but they mercifully snap you out of your daze and your eyes finally squeeze shut, forcing tears to slip out the inner corners of your eyes. You tremble as you start to feel unbearably cold. You think you feel wind on your face—biting and frigid the way only the middle of the night can be. Your breathing shallows as the fingers pressed to your stomach become coated with something thick and warm. 

You tilt your head down and open your eyes slowly. Your hand shakes as you separate it from yourself just enough to see both your skin and your shirt drenched with blood.

“Oh,” you whisper.

“A lot of people think flight feels like freedom,” Mingyu continues, either ignorant or uncaring to how badly you're losing your mind right now. “I think it’s just another kind of surrender. Falling.”

You’re on your feet and gasping for air before you can process what’s happening, leaping over Mingyu and falling out into the aisle. Panic forces you up off the ground, and everything from there is a blur—Mingyu’s tiger, the atrocious faces of the audience, the shadows that seem to follow you, the dazzling starry tent. You squeeze your eyes shut again as you stumble aimlessly. 

“Vernon? Vernon Chwe?” Wendy shrieks, giggling through her words. “He’s going to be there?”

“Yup!” Maya affirms as Jackson snorts and grins against the mouth of the 40oz bottle. “And I hear he’s freshly single!” She sings the word. “It’s your time, girl.”

“Look at these two,” Chris mutters to you and the other man in the backseat. He smiles affectionately as he accepts the bottle from Jackson. “On the hunt. Terrifying.”

“What about you, huh?” Jackson digs his elbow into your rib. You look over at him and raise your eyebrows. “You gonna be finding a man to take home tonight too?” 

You can’t explain why the thought alone fills you with dread. Dating has never interested you, and neither has sleeping around. Maya has slipped you enough articles about aromantic or asexual people, but that’s never resonated with you either. You crave the same love and attraction your friends have all experienced and continue to. It’s just that no one has ever felt right.

But rather than drag the mood down with your honesty, you smile and roll your eyes. “And where are they supposed to sit if I want to bring them home? Should we lay them across our laps at the end of the night? Real romantic.”

The boys cackle as the girls do the same for a very different reason—this Vernon Chwe.

You sob as you’re brought to all fours, the feeling of dewy grass under your hand, soaking the knees of your jeans. You think the groans you hear are your own, but the world is spinning and you’re not sure. 

“Help,” you breathe, knowing there's no way anyone heard you. You remove your bloodied hand from your abdomen, pressing it into the grass next to your other one. “Oh god,” you cry when you feel blood gushing out of you.

Leaning forward, you rest your forehead on your hands, trying to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth.

You stifle the feeling that you may never find someone that feels right to you. 

The bile is up your throat and out of your mouth without warning, relentless and forceful, making your entire frame jerk and shake. Your throat burns as you expel the acid from your stomach, becoming raw in the process. When you feel completely empty, you find that your pain has subsided. You exhale in short puffs and finally open your eyes. 

You sit back on your heels and away from your own vomit. In a daze, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before quickly lifting the hem of your shirt just to find the skin unblemished, not a drop of blood in sight. You pull your shirt back down, frowning as you blink several times to clear your vision. When it finally does, you find a woman not much older than you watching from a few yards away.

Her inky black hair is slicked down, a large feather tucked behind her ear and two tight braids with purple ribbons woven into them hanging down her shoulders and to her waist. She stands before you in a black dress that looks like it's missing a petticoat, laying limp and loose against her body, the shawl once wrapped around her shoulders doing the same. 

The stranger's eyes flicker between you and the mess you made on the ground. She doesn't ask if you're okay or what you're doing on the ground at the circus. Instead, she jerks her head, motioning for you to follow her as she turns and walks away, farther from the big tent and the crowd inside it. 

You glance back and for a moment, you feel a modicum of that same joy you did at the beginning of your time at The Midnight Menagerie again. The music reaches you once more, and the sound of people laughing and children squealing off in the distance makes you want to join them.

Listen to your gut, a familiar voice whispers.

The ghost of your pain reverberates in your abdomen, snapping you out of your reverie. You're starting to learn to associate the Menagerie's bliss with danger. You turn forward again to find the woman a good distance from you now. 

Be safe.

You scramble to your feet and run after her.

permanent tag list: @chicken-fifi @markoplolo @nahyuckism @soonwongyu @thestraybunny @bramos91 @chariseiswriting @whos-kkira @minorwithchampagneproblems @midnight986 @combinatoright-blog @min-has-trusttissues @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @lovelynx @fayhaflyyy @metaphorandmoonlight @sapphireserpens @hopecutie @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @jaja-salute @randojeon @starlight-constellation @scoupssy @seoghwaswifeuuuu @hongyinujiang @twixxpie @j3nnch3ls3a

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS DEPLOYMENT NOTIFICATION: IMMEDIATE MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-KR LOCATION: Seoul, Republic of Korea LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N, Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer DATE ISSUED: 31 March 2026 DURATION: TBD DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Urban flooding event, subsurface structural collapse SUMMARY: Unusual, high-intensity rainfall has resulted in rapid flooding across central Seoul. Drainage systems exceeded capacity within 30 minutes of onset. Multiple sinkholes have been reported. Additional note: Increased avian clustering observed prior to rainfall escalation. OBJECTIVES:

Assess infrastructure damage and stability risks

Coordinate with municipal emergency response teams

Identify immediate humanitarian needs

Submit SITREP within 12 hours of arrival

TRAVEL ADVISORY:

Flooding – avoid underground transit. In accordance with protocols issued following 2018 incident with Officer Lee, please avoid driving through water—still or otherwise—regardless of perceived depth

Birds (??? Not sure how serious the bird situation is for it to be included in briefings but if you want your bird flu vaccine, let me know)

AUTHORIZED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section

YOU'RE REALLY STARTING TO SECOND-GUESS YOUR CAREER CHOICE. You could've been a teacher like you wanted for most of your childhood. Or an engineer, which is what your parents originally had planned for you. Or an au pair for a nice but grossly out-of-touch billionaire family. Anything seems better than standing in the middle of the largest typhoon ever—not that you can definitively or officially say this is the largest typhoon ever. That would've required anyone in the UN or Seoul or quite frankly, the world to foresee its arrival and calculate its category. Somehow, between the UN's World Meteorological Organization and the Korean government, no one even knew it was coming at all. But right now, in this moment, as you stand here, soaked to the bone and shaking so violently, your chattering teeth are almost louder than the sound of the sky ripping wide open, you don't care for accuracy. This could be labeled a mild tropical depression and it would still be the largest typhoon as far as you're concerned. Your deployment papers cited unusual rainfall and flooding as the concern to focus on during your visit. Even your boss had assured you that it would probably be a quick trip. He handed you your notice, smiled, and said, "We don't think matters will escalate. You'll probably be back on a plane within a day." Well, Joshua Hong had no idea what he was talking about because how can all the overpaid, self-important people at his level miss a whole typhoon? In March? In a country where typhoon season is in the third quarter of the year? Your team landed at Incheon Airport, went straight to where the emergency teams were stationed, and you were just about to start taking notes for that situation report due in Joshua's inbox in 12 hours, when water was suddenly pelting you from seemingly all directions. Once you were able to gain your bearings long enough to at least squint at the dense wall of rain, you found a near-black sky and several people struggling to keep from flying away in the wind.

"You'll just be there to make sure everything's fine in Seoul," Joshua said. "I was told the rain could very well stop before you even land," Joshua said. Joshua is going to get an email from you about a raise as soon as you're dry. Especially because what you're doing right now—crouching down under a bus stop, clinging pathetically to the leg of a bench, and begging a man who thinks he's God to get out of the streets—definitely warranted some kind of hazard pay. Miraculously, the stranger stands steady and strong in the middle of the street's intersection, arms crossed over his broad chest as he watches the sky carefully, expression too calm for someone who is most likely about to die and has zero qualms about bringing you right along with him. You don't know why you ran back out here to warn him, and even more perplexing, you don't know why you're still here, hugging a dirty bench anchored into the concrete to keep from being blown away. Maybe it was the guilt of being the representative of an organization who should've absolutely known this was coming that had you feeling like it was the most important thing you'd ever do—saving this specific man's life. With enough warning, you could've helped with proper evacuations. Or maybe you're just tired of your job and subconsciously, you're ready to follow this lunatic into the light. “Sir, please!” you scream into the barrage of rain between you and the man. It's futile; you barely even hear yourself, but you continue anyway. “Even if you are God, what are you trying to prove right now?! Whatever it is, you don't have to! I believe you!” you lie.

You're not very religious or even spiritual, but you've come to think of God as a very shapeless, faceless, human-less entity. Maybe even just a ball of light. You definitely did not think of God and picture a tall, brooding man around your age with long hair, tattoos, and muscles that really bulge under his clothes, wet and sticking to him like a second skin. So no. You do not believe this man is God. God being hot is not an option in your mind. “I believe you, okay?!” you lie again. “You're God! Now please come out of the rain and into the shelter with me where it's safe! And dry!” He gives no indication he heard you. “I'm really not keen on dying out here with you!” you shout even though your actions don't really align with your preferences right now. You squeeze your eyes shut and shriek as a particularly strong gust of wind threatens to rip your hands away from the bench and whisk you into your next life. "Nobody is dying." His voice reaches you easily, clear and unbothered by the roar of the water. He mutters like the storm is nothing more than a minor blip in an otherwise perfect day to him. "Least of all me." You open your eyes to find the stranger suddenly standing next to you, eyes still on the sky and glaring at it as he assesses something silently. You look up at him from where you're almost parallel with the ground, dumbfounded about how he's staying upright with zero effort. "I am a god," he repeats the very first thing he said to you when you first spotted him from inside the shelter and followed him out here. "This is all child's play." "Okay!" you squeak as another gust shoves you against the seat of the bench roughly. You immediately lower yourself until your chest is pressed against the sidewalk so you can hug the bench leg tighter to you. You crane your neck up to look at him, sputtering as rainwater assaults your face and gets into your mouth. "But I'm not a god! And I would really appreciate safety right now, sir!"

"I know you are not a god, mortal," the man huffs as he pushes his wet hair away from his face, finally looking away from the sky to fix his gaze right on you. Your mouth clamps shut as a shudder runs through you. With his long hair out of the way and without the storm separating you, you have a better view of his face, and you briefly ponder if God can't be hot, maybe he can be beautiful. Because what this man lacks in sanity, he more than makes up for in the face. Even in the darkness that has suddenly swallowed Seoul, you can discern the plumpest, pinkest lips you've ever seen and skin that looks so soft, smooth, golden, and warm, you're convinced a palm to his cheek would save you from the cool bite of the storm. And his eyes—they pierce you and pin you to where you're pathetically curled up on the ground. Regularly, you'd find big, brown eyes like his charming, but… he only has one. Because the one that isn't brown is a bright, brilliant gold, a thick scar cutting up through it from the middle of his cheek, up through his left eye and brow, and into his hairline. "Make no mistake," he says, unimpressed, "it is very clear to me that you are no god." You blow a raspberry, water spraying from your lips as you do. You feel like you're becoming a puddle the longer you stay out here. "Were you a god, you would know that Set has awoken." "What?!" you shout, frantically rubbing your face into your arm to push your hair away from it, too scared to release a hand from the bench to do it properly. "You just woke up? Maybe you should go back to bed!" His mouth presses into a thin line just as he decides he's done speaking with you. He turns his attention back to the storm and sighs, shaking his head. He raises both arms with his palms turned toward the skies. Just as he does, movement to your left catches your eye, and you notice a flock of birds landing on a power line nearby. You watch as more and more start to occupy the space, all immovable by the storm and facing the two of you like they're enjoying a show. "What the fuck…" "I will find him," the man says. Your head snaps back to him, frowning. His brows are pulled down and that golden eye of his sparkles with fierce determination. "Huh?!"

"I will not let him get away with this." It's the last thing he says before a flash of blinding light forces your eyes shut. The light burns bright even beneath your eyelids so you shove your face into the crook of your elbow. Only a few moments pass before the wind around you slows to a gentle breeze and the cacophony of sounds around you gradually calms down, until you can only hear the soft drip drops of water running off all the surfaces the rain had relentlessly battered. You frown, peeking just one eye above your elbow. You gasp, lifting your head and scrambling up onto your knees. You're met with soft sunlight, a blue sky, and not a single cloud, bird, or self-proclaimed god in sight.

MISSION SUMMARY REPORT MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-KR LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N, Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer DATE ISSUED: 31 March 2026 DATE COMPLETED: 2 April 2026 DURATION: 33 hours DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Urban flooding event, subsurface structural collapse CATEGORY FOUR!!! Typhoon KEY OBSERVATIONS:

Affected area is stabilized and requires no further humanitarian aid, not that we provided any. At all. No signs of additional rainfall, though I assume our long-standing ability to anticipate the weather is suddenly hindered.

Local authorities and response teams express confidence in handling structural damage without further interference. Probably because our interference was useless.

Flood levels diminished approximately two hours after landing without clear cause. Data irregularities reported across monitoring systems. Maybe look into that.

No deaths and all injured citizens are expected to recover quickly. NO THANKS TO US!

OFFICER ASSESSMENT: Due to insufficient notice of Typhoon Coups (who named this typhoon??) and a complete breakdown in communication, I do not believe I was able to do my job effectively in Seoul. Had I received a warning as per long-standing protocols, I would have been able to assist in mobilizing UN resources to facilitate proper evacuation, volunteer support, and aid distribution. Unfortunately, that did NOT happen, and both UN and local response teams were unprepared for the CATEGORY FOUR!!!! typhoon. But by the grace of God (who is surprisingly handsome)—

"What the hell is this?" Joshua scoffs, throwing all seven pages of your report on his desk and running his hands through his hair in distress. When it's sufficiently tousled out of his usually careful styling, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and takes a deep breath painstakingly slowly. "It's a gripping and honest portrayal of how I almost died in Korea this week, and you didn't even get past the first page," you say simply. You tilt your head and sarcastically ask, "Sorry, is there something wrong with my memoir? Does it burden you to copy-edit what could've been my last memories? Are—" "Okay, okay, okay!" he chants, stress very obviously (and loudly) escalating as he drags his hands down his face and trains his eyes on you, exhausted. "I get it!" He exhales slowly and you know he's doing his best to maintain his composure, a challenge you've always presented him. When he speaks again, his voice is a lot steadier. "It's not like I'm happy with the fact that a team I deployed and am responsible for got caught in the middle of a monster typhoon. I assure you I am just as angry as you are that we received no word about Coups." "Again, who named it that…" you mutter, sinking in your seat and lazily propping your elbow up on the arm of your chair and resting your chin in your hand. Joshua ignores your interruption. "And trust me, the folks at the World Meteorological Org are getting their asses handed to them for it. I'm, like, 99.9 percent sure Wonwoo is firing people as we speak." "Good" is all you say to that. "They are very sorry," Joshua informs you, "and are working around the clock to understand what they missed. But by all accounts, it was an anomaly freak storm that came out of nowhere." You roll your eyes. "Freak storms don't come out of nowhere, Joshua. And by the way, a delivery of donuts to the office hardly feels like a sufficient apology for almost killing us with their incompetence. Wonwoo and his gang of loser nerds at the WMO can kiss my—"

"Regardless!" his voice rises over yours. Your lips twitch, threatening to surrender your laughter. "We have a level of professionalism to maintain, and I can't submit…" he gestures at your report with a perplexed expression on his face, "whatever this is as your summary report." You glare at him. "What's wrong with my report?" He huffs a laugh. "Are you serious?" You raise your eyebrows and make it clear you are. His face falls into a flat expression when he realizes you are not joking about your report. "The entire first page is about how the UN was useless. Are you trying to get our department dissolved?" "If I am, do we get a severance package?" Your boss purses his lips to stop himself from saying whatever it is he's about to. Joshua has cursed at you exactly one time in the decade you've been working together, and you've been chasing that feeling of accomplishment ever since. "Also, what's all this talk about God?" he asks, leaning forward to quickly scan where he left off. He recites aloud: But by the grace of God (who is surprisingly handsome), the storm calmed and the team was able to help the locals reestablish their volunteer and aid center. We quickly worked to find any citizens affected and thankfully did not find anyone with serious injuries. I may have also been looking for God but he really was gone. Along with all his birds. At least I assume those were his birds. Unclear…

Joshua's voice trails off as his eyes continue reading, his brows pulling so far down in confusion, you would laugh if you weren't convinced you were completely losing your mind. When he reaches the end of the first page, he looks up at you like he agrees you've lost your mind. "Did you get checked out by a doctor after?" he asks suddenly. "Yes…" you answer, frowning. "And? What did they say?" "I'm fine?" "You didn't hit your head in Korea?" You groan, rolling your eyes. "No, I did not hit my head," you say even though you're actually not sure if you did. The initial onslaught of torrential rain and furious winds had you very disoriented for a while there. "I wish I had. That would be a lovely explanation for all of this." "All of what? Your newfound belief in God?" he asks skeptically, knowing you well enough to remember you aren't at all a religious person. You push yourself up and lean forward, resting both elbows on his desk and commanding his attention. "Something weird happened in Korea." "You mean, other than the freak storm and everyone's obsession with these birds?" he asks, looking absolutely done with today. You don't blame him. You're done with this whole week. "Yes," you confirm. "I met someone. Well, 'met' is kind of generous. I… crossed paths with someone. We did not get to have have a proper conversation given the circumstances, let alone exchange names. Which is unfortunate because if he really is God, it would've been nice to know his name." You pause. "Hey, would you have ever pictured God as hot?"

Joshua stares at you blankly, not a single thought betrayed by his face as he blinks several times at you. "Right," you say, nodding. "About this guy." You tell him everything that happened, which admittedly isn't a lot at all. You had just gotten the last few civilians that were receiving aid into the shelter when you spotted a stranger standing in the middle of the street. You called out to him but knew it was useless, and before Lee Chan, the youngest member on your team could tell you not to, you were running out into the downpour, trying to get to the man in question. You came up a few meters short, having to drop down and hold onto a bench to keep from flying. "You did what?" Joshua asks, narrowing his eyes at you. "All this talk about the WMO almost killing you—" "They did." "—when you willingly ran into the storm?" he reiterates like he's trying to make sure he has it right. "My job is to help people on—" "Your job is to follow protocol, which says you need to shelter in place when things like this happen. Did you even include that in your report?" He pauses, clearly internally debating if that's something you should even include in your report. "Yes," you tell him. You're always completely honest in your summary reports regardless of whether that means it gets you in trouble. "You would know that if you finished reading my memoir." Your boss heaves a dramatic sigh. "Now let me finish, this isn't about protocol!" you complain, irate that he's interrupted your retelling.

He waves a hand for you to continue, and you tell him the rest. As you recount how the man repeatedly claimed he was God, Joshua's patience visibly wears thinner and thinner until he succumbs to reclining in his chair and closing his eyes. He only opens his eyes as you arrive at the end, when the stranger reached up into the sky and the storm seemed to bend to his will. "You think this… crazy person who calls himself God… stopped the storm." You shake your head. "No." He shoots you an incredulous look like he isn't sure why you just made him listen to all of this then. "But I also don't not believe him…?" "Oh my god," he sits back up and starts gathering the papers of your report before presenting it to you in a pile. "Redo this, please. And leave out your god. And all the snarky remarks." You snort as you stand up. You push the small pile back toward him and he raises his eyebrows up at you. "I did my job and I did the report, and I have nothing to change. If you'd like to edit it, I invite you to, but I'm not redoing this." Joshua groans, letting his forehead come to meet his desk. "You make life so hard." "No, the WMO makes life so hard," you correct him. "They—" You're interrupted by the door to Joshua's office opening so forcefully and abruptly, it hits the wall and bounces back. You both flinch, turning to find Jeon Wonwoo, the director of the nerds that failed to identify the typhoon, standing in the doorway and looking like he ran across campus to get here. "Oh good, you're here too," he breathes, nodding at you. He invites himself in and closes the door behind him. "Bad news, we still have no idea why we weren't able to anticipate the typhoon in Korea."

"Great," you grumble. "So glad you ran all the way here to tell us that." Joshua shoots you a warning look while Wonwoo offers you a sheepish smile. "But the good news is that we were able to uncover another anomaly." Joshua's frown deepens. "What?" Wonwoo winces. "Yeah, so bad news again—bad news sandwich, ha." You give him a flat look that cuts through his weak giggles. He clears his throat and continues. "We think there's something headed for Southeast Asia." "Something?" you parrot skeptically. Vagueness isn't something the weather nerds at the WMO did. "Another typhoon?" He shakes his head. "No… not quite." You and Joshua look at each other, and your boss groans, waving a hand at your report. "Whatever, we'll just submit this as is." You smirk. "What do we need to know, Wonwoo?"

To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> CC: W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo>; You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: ????? got ur request for deployment. why on earth would we need to deploy humanitarian affairs bc of tiny earthquakes in the middle of the ocean too small to fully register on the richter scale? if this is a ploy for vacation i would respect u more if u would just say so Sent from iPhone

To: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> CC: W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo>; You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> Subject: RE: ????? Jeonghan – thanks for reaching out. After the events in Seoul this past week, Wonwoo and I thought it best to be proactive in our efforts. His team has found small tremors in the waters immediately surrounding Singapore. The patterns seem to be closing in on the city-state and are growing in strength. I'll let him get into the details I'm not qualified to relay. We'd like to send Y/N and her team to get locals ready for a potential earthquake. As Singapore doesn't have a history of earthquakes, we expect any activity to be unsettling for citizens. Not a heavy lift, and good to get ahead of it. Joshua Hong Director of Operations UN Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs

To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> CC: W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo>; You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: RE: ????? right. singapore doesn't have a history of earthquakes… bc its tectonic plate has no active faults……. forgive me if my faith in wonwoo and his army of dorks is a little low at the moment Sent from iPhone

To: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha>; J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> CC: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo> Subject: RE: ????? ATTACHMENTS: proof for big boss.ppt Hi. I am on this thread by the way! I have attached my team's data points for you. On slide 12, you'll find increased seismic activity in the East China Sea, which very oddly and narrowly avoids both Taiwan and the Philippines. On slide 23, you'll see that each instance monitored has increased and that our last recording of the quakes (in the Singapore Strait) are very much on the Richter Scale at 3.7 now. You'll also find the work my team has done and the equations behind the predictions that these earthquakes will reach Singapore at anywhere from a 5.0 to a 7.0—large enough to disrupt a country unprepared for this. Of course, it is your decision. Though if that decision is no, we would love to have that in writing. Just in case an entire city-state collapses. No other reason. Thanks. – W.

To: W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo>; J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> CC: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: RE: ????? i know ur on this thread. i was the one who added u was i not? u lost me at slide TWELVE? i'm on my phone. i'll get to this when i'm back at my office Sent from iPhone

To: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha>; W. Jeon <wonwoo.jeon@wmo>; J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: ????? Oh for fuck's sake, YES JEONGHAN. THIS IS FOR A VACATION. CAN MY TEAM AND I PLS GO ON VACATION???

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS DEPLOYMENT NOTIFICATION: IMMEDIATE MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-SG LOCATION: Republic of Singapore LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N, Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer DATE ISSUED: 3 April 2026 DURATION: TBD DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Unusual seismic activity SUMMARY: The WMO has noted unusual seismic activity in the East and South China Seas, with evidence that activity is moving toward Singapore and increasing in strength. We are deploying personnel to prepare and support local authorities and response teams. OBJECTIVES:

Assess infrastructure risks and provide recommendations for support

Prepare and establish aid centers with municipal emergency response teams in the case of disaster

Identify immediate humanitarian needs

Submit SITREP within 12 hours of arrival and every 6 hours until confirmation that activity has passed

TRAVEL ADVISORY: Heat waves expected to reach upwards of 37°C AUTHORIZED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section

"Why did Chief Yoon wish me a nice vacation before we left?" Chan asks as he sets a case of water bottles on the table next to yours while you write your first situation report. You snort, answering without removing your eyes from your screen. "No idea, he's crazy." Yoon Jeonghan is not crazy. Actually, you view him as a sort of kindred spirit at the UN—as much devoted to helping people as you both are to annoying them. And with Joshua stuck right in between you on the corporate ladder, it truly makes for an entertaining time. "Probably doesn't think anything will come out of these dumb baby quakes," you add, shrugging. You're not even sure you do. You're kind of on the same boat as Jeonghan when it comes to trusting Wonwoo right now. After all, you almost died because of him. "I see you have a lot of respect for the WMO's work," your field assistant jokes, taking the seat next to you and beginning to sort through paperwork. "We could have died, Chan," you say for the nth time this week. "No, you could have died because you decided to run out into the middle of a storm," he corrects you. You roll your eyes. "The rest of us were perfectly safe." Your fingers pause over the keyboard and you narrow your eyes at your report. You suppose that's right. The storm just magically disappeared—maybe because of that weirdo man, maybe not. But either way, the typhoon dissipated just minutes after everyone took shelter. There's a high possibility no one would have died regardless of the WMO sending notice. But seeing as you'll be using it as an argument for a raise, you choose to ignore this. "Whatever," you murmur, continuing to type. "Let's not be pedantic." "What does ped—hey!" Chan interrupts himself and straightens in his seat. He shakes your arm and you look up to find him pointing. "Isn't that the man you almost died for?!" Your head jerks to where his finger is pointed, and sure enough, you find the same man from Korea, standing under the shade of a row of trees, looking out at the sea. You can only really see his profile, but it's a very memorable profile. You screamed at it for several minutes in the pouring rain after all. "What the…"

"What is he doing in Singapore…?" Chan asks, his hand falling as he crosses his arms in thought. "What a weir—" You're up and walking around and away from the table before Chan can finish what he's saying or ask you what you're doing. You excuse yourself as you squeeze past local volunteers lounging around, bored and no doubt questioning what they're doing here, preparing for a disaster on such a normal day. But if this so-called God is here, maybe Wonwoo's team is onto something. "Hey!" you bark as you get closer to the man. If he hears you, he shows no sign of it, standing so still, you could mistake him for an oddly placed mannequin. You walk faster, and when you finally reach him, you have so much inexplicably pent-up energy, you jab your finger into his shoulder a lot harder than you mean to. "You!" The stranger doesn't even flinch, his eyes coming down to you in disinterest. He spares you just a moment before his eyes drift back to the sea. "Um, hello?!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face. "Remember me? The person you almost killed in Seoul?!" You choose to ignore Chan's voice in your head poking fun at you for your newfound habit of accusing people of almost killing you. "What on earth was that, huh?" you ask, poking his shoulder a touch less violently this time. "Where did the storm go? What did you do to it? Where did you go?" When he doesn't show any sign of answering your questions, you scoff and move your body in front of his. Dry and without the haze of rain, you can appreciate his fortunate looks even more. Half of his long hair is pulled back into a bun, a sharp, solid gold hair pin shaped like a feather stabbed through it to keep it in place. He's dressed in fine linens, the same ones that were plastered to his skin back in Korea, and you realize it wasn't just the rain. His top is slightly sheer, showing off not only his bulging muscles but several tattoos across his ribs, chest, and collarbones, all leading up to two feathers on either side of his neck. You tiptoe to interrupt his line of vision, and you notice two more you didn't see before: a tiny sun at the outer corner of his right eye and a moon at the left, next to that golden eye of his. His eyes come down to meet yours, the same gold sending a chill down your spine. You don't let it distract you, though. "Well?! And what are you doing here anyway?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you chasing weather?" You frown at the weird question. "I mean, storms. Or earthquakes. Or… whatever! What are you doing here?" "Mortals have become much more… talkative since I laid myself to sleep," he observes, voice low and rumbling like it's coming deep within the earth itself.

"What?" "Do you speak in anything other than questions?" he asks back. He lets his eyes wander from you to scan the horizon again. You glare at him briefly before glancing over your shoulder to see what he could possibly be looking for. The waves roll in leisurely and the tide is rising, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. You figure that isn't your area of expertise, though. It's the WMO's, and they predict the strongest tremors will start from the south, in the Singapore Strait. The strait you're staring at now. You turn back to the man. "Are you here for the earthquakes?" "I am here for Set." "To set up what?" His eyes flick down to you and annoyance briefly disrupts his stoic features. "What?" "What are you setting up?" "I am here for Set, mortal," he says again. "Okay, repeating it doesn't make it make any more sense, brother," you sneer, rolling your eyes. "He is not my brother. He is my uncle." "What? Who is your uncle?" you ask, exasperated. "Why can't you talk like a normal human being?" "I am not a mortal and I have no desire to share any similarities with one," he answers, eyes roaming the water. You give up and set yourself back down off your toes, shaking your head. "Okay… so you're visiting an uncle…" you deduce, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly. "Well, while you wait for him, do you mind telling me about Korea?" "I know little to nothing about Korea." "No, I mean the st—wait. Are you not Korean?" "No." You squint at him. When he notices your silent scrutiny, he seems to fidget a little before looking down at his body like he's just become aware of it. "I… I suppose this vessel is Korean. Yes." "You're so weird…" you say before getting back on track. "What happened in Korea? Did you really stop the storm? How?" The look he gives you convinces you it's the dumbest question anyone has ever asked him. "I am a god." "Yeah. You've mentioned that once or twice now," you murmur, getting the sense you'll never get anywhere with him. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Maybe he really is just a crazy guy visiting his uncle in Singapore. "So you know. Why do you keep asking then?" You snort. "I'm surrounded by scientists in this line of work. 'God' really isn't a sufficient answer." "I command the skies. Everything in it is mine," he clarifies further. From the way he says it, you can tell he earnestly believes it will help you understand. It doesn't.

"Right." So he's just crazy. Silence falls over you as he sighs and pointedly steps to his left so he can view the ocean clearly again. You give up your interrogation and turn around, admiring the view alongside him. "What's your name?" you ask after a few moments. "Horus, Uniter of the Two Lands, Lord of the Sky, Protector of the Pharaoh, and Avenger of my father before me, Osiris, god of the underworld, the afterlife, and rebirth," he answers with zero hesitation. You're stunned for a moment, your mouth falling open as you struggle to figure out what to make of him. "Um…" He hums in question. "Do you maybe have a nickname?" "A nickname," he repeats. "Like… something shorter I can call you that I won't have to spend whole days memorizing." He pauses, brows furrowing a little as he looks back down at himself again. You don't rush him, and after a few moments, he nods once and tells you, "Seungcheol. You may call me Seungcheol. Is that short enough for you, mortal?" You tilt your head and repeat it. "Seungcheol. Yeah, I like it. Funny nickname for… whatever the earlier one was. Do you have a surname?" "So now the name is too short for your liking?" he asks, shooting you an icy look. You take the tiniest step away. "No… just curious." "Choi." "Cool."

He grunts and averts his eyes once more, allowing you to relax. You watch a few birds circling the sky nearby and after a few beats of peaceful silence, he surprises you when he asks, "And yours?" "My what?" "What do people call you?" "Ah, definitely not 'mortal,'" you laugh a little. You say your full name for him. Then, because you've decided pressing the buttons of this stranger has kind of delighted you so far, you add: "Storm Chaser, Protector of Citizens, and Mortal Enemy of Jeon Wonwoo and the WMO." Seungcheol tilts his head a little in clear confusion but ultimately nods, very seriously accepting your fake title. "I will remember that, as my brain has far much more capacity to do so than yours does, Y/N L/N, Storm Chaser, Protector of Citizens, and Mortal Enemy of Jeon Wonwoo and the WMO." You laugh loudly at that, not bothering to take offense at being called dumb by someone who thinks he's God. You think you see the corner of his lips quirk up—maybe the closest a serious man like Seungcheol can get to smiling. "Perfect," you tell him. "But you can also just call me Y/N." "Your nickname." Not quite, but you don't feel like being on the receiving end of another glare. "Sure is." You both allow the silence to wash over you again, nothing but the sound of the waves gently rolling in as you start to doubt your usefulness in Singapore. At least you got a company-paid vacation out of it. Sure, it came with a shitload of paperwork and a subordinate hellbent on convincing you you're a drama queen, but at least it didn't involve emails in the confines of four grey walls while Joshua groans in frustration for eight hours straight in the room next door. "I guess this is as nice a vacation as any," you say mostly to yourself. "I got to leave all my work behind for everyone else to worry about, the weather is nice, and nothing is happening. After Korea, 'nothing' is very nice." "The weather is nice," the man agrees, though he frowns like it's not the positive you make it out to be. "It should be warmer." He looks up and away from the water, squinting at the gloomy sky, sun hidden from view. "Yeah, I guess it should be," you shrug. "Joshua did say it would be hot. He included a heat advisory in my briefing." "What is a briefing?" he asks, before looking down at you. You fidget a little under his gaze again, that golden eye seeing right through you. You clear your throat. "Nothing a god should concern himself with," you practically squeak.

He hums, seeming pleased with the answer. If he is, you definitely feel pleased that he feels pleased. "It seems that you are finally catching on." You press your lips together and nod, refusing to tell him you actually think he could benefit from a trip to the doctor—if not for his hallucinations, then definitely for his experience being assaulted by a typhoon in Korea. "It should be hot, and it should be sunny," he says again, eyes falling back to the sea. The waves seem a little larger than before. "And the grounds tremble." You tense at that observation—one you can't make. "What do you mean 'the grounds tremble'?" "I do not know how to make that statement any clearer than it is." You open your mouth but find yourself speechless and dumbfounded. "He will arrive soon." "Who?" "Set." When you don't respond, he looks down at you, sighing at your inability to follow anything he says. "My uncle." "Oh," you nod, elongating the vowel as at least some of his ramblings finally click for you. "Your uncle's name is Set. We're here to see Uncle Set." He looks perturbed by that phrasing, odd enough to him that it seems to take him out of his thoughts. "I… I do not know that I would phrase it that way or… call him that." "How would you phrase it?"

Before he can answer, the ground beneath you jolts briefly but violently, eliciting a startled scream from you and several others in the vicinity. Just as you're about to lose your balance, Seungcheol's hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you toward him and steadying you. "Thanks," you breathe. His attention isn't on you, though, his gaze glued to the horizon. You follow it and find a wave—if you can call it that—several dozen feet larger than any of the ones that have met the shore. "Is that…" Seungcheol's hand slips away from yours and finds your shoulder, gently pushing you away from him. "Go," he says. "Help everyone away from the shore." You don't need to be told twice, immediately sprinting back to where Chan is already corralling whoever will listen away from the area. "We need to get to higher ground!" he says, obviously having seen the monster wave headed your way. "This is Singapore!" you shout back frantically, helping someone up before they're crushed in the panic of the crowd. They're running away as soon as they're on their feet. "There is no higher ground! Just get everyone as far away from the beach as possible! I need to let the WMO know they were right!" Fuck, you childishly think as you scramble toward your laptop, I need to let Wonwoo know he and his losers were right.

"Chan!" you scream, your laptop open in your left hand as you try to type with your right and run to him at the same time. You have trouble stopping, barreling right into him. He doesn't even blink. "They're making an evacuation center on Bukit Timah Hill! According to Wonwoo's math, it's not quite high enough, but it's all we've got." "Perfect!" he shouts over the heads of people running past, gesturing them in the direction away from the water. "Where is that?!" "Um," you check the message you received. "Twelve kilometers away!" His face falls and he levels you with a flat look. "Okay, how the fuck are we going to get everyone 12 kilometers away with nothing but our bare hands?" "Such a good question," you say, snapping your laptop closed and hugging it to your chest. "The good news is that I have secured the two of us hefty raises. Do not tell the rest of the team when we get back. Jeonghan has sworn us to secrecy. Whatever, though. You snooze, you lose, am I right?" "We can't enjoy a raise if we are dead!" Chan shrieks, arms falling as he pauses crowd control to look at you helplessly. "Are we going to die?" You open your mouth to say, "No of course not," but find yourself incapable of lying so blatantly. So you smile tightly and opt to not answer at all. "There are shuttles, buses, taxis—all kinds of vehicles and drivers volunteering or mandated by the government to help transport civilians to the hills. Just help everyone get on and then join them."

"Oh god." "What?" "Where are you going?" "Why are you assuming I'm going anywhere?" you ask. He stares at you blankly until you sigh and nod. "Okay, yeah, I want to go find Seungcheol." "Who the hell is Seungcheol?" "He seems to know what's going on," you tell him, not bothering to properly answer. "He felt the ground moving right before that quake! I'm sure if I find him, he'll have answers." "Or you'll both just drown in a tsunami!" Chan frantically screams at you. "Okay, relax, I'm still your boss," you mumble, shoving him away from you. "Go do as I say and I'll find you after." "I cannot stress enough how incapable you will be of performing any of the verbs coming out of your mouth if you are dead!" "I will not be dead!" you shout as you turn and head back toward the spot you left Seungcheol at. "I will be with a god!" "Wait, give me your laptop!" "No! I'm not done with my SITREP!" "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

You push against the current of people running the opposite direction of imminent danger, struggling to stay on your feet as the panic rises. By the time you reach your abandoned table, the area is empty, giving you hope that everyone will get far enough away in time. You continue running until you reach the treeline you and Seungcheol had been standing at, dismayed to find him nowhere in sight. "Fuck," you breathe, looking every which way. "Where are you…" You're frozen in place momentarily when your gaze meets the wave, considerably closer than it was when you first spotted it in the far horizon. It's more a wall than anything else, dark and menacing and towering over you, reaching so far into the sky, it makes the sun even smaller than it already was to begin with. It dawns on you for the first time that after all the complaining you've done in the last week, you very well might die today. "Um," you mutter to yourself, trying to tear your gaze away from the water. "Focus, focus." You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. When you open them again, you refuse to look at the ocean, instead kneeling in the grass where you are and opening your laptop. If you are going to die, then the least you can do is be useful in your last moments, supplying Joshua with as much information as you can so he's prepared to send the proper aid as fast as possible. You type with trembling hands, not bothering to correct any typos. It's not like any SITREP you've written before; for one, it's typed directly into your Teams chat with your boss, and secondly, it's in all caps with more exclamation points than you've ever used in your life. "Mega tsunami… estimating… over 20 meters… by… time it reaches… shore," you narrate your own words, pressing send every few lines in case you die in the middle of your SITREP. Joshua pings back several expletives—a treat you can't even enjoy at the moment. "Shut… up!" Send. "Local evacuation… Bukit Timah… Chan will require aid and extraction. If I die… please allocate raise… to Chan." Send. "What are you doing?" You scream, immediately caving your body over your laptop like it's the one that needs protecting in the event of a tsunami and not your life. You crane your neck up to find Seungcheol standing over you, and you groan loudly in relief. "Oh my god, thank god—thank you!" you correct yourself, body sagging against your laptop. You shoot him a weak smile. "We should stop meeting like this, huh?"

He glares at you, extinguishing the joy in your body. "I told you to leave." "You told me to help everyone out," you correct him, pushing yourself back onto your knees and quickly typing Joshua a goodbye in the middle of his panicked ranting. You shut the laptop again and tuck it under your arm as you stand. You gesture to the very empty space around you. "I did that. So. I technically did exactly what you told me to." Seungcheol's lips turn down in displeasure at the corners. "Mortals are impossible." "So, um, what are we going to do about this?" For the first time, Seungcheol laughs. It's just one and it's mean and condescending, but it's a laugh. "Ha! 'We'? We are doing nothing. You are mortal and useless in the matters of gods. You will run far away from here, and I will stop Set as I always do." "Your uncle?" you ask, causing the god to take a deep, aggravated breath when you don't acknowledge anything else he said. "Uncle Set is the reason behind the storms?!" "Please stop calling him that." "I thought he was your uncle." "He is. But I do not—it is—just stop calling him that." You raise a hand in surrender. "Okay, no Uncle Set. Got it. Why do you need to stop Set?" "The longer you stand here asking me your useless mortal questions, the closer this wave will reach land." "Then you should probably stop it." "Leave." "No."

"Leave." The ground jolts again as he commands you, and you get the feeling it isn't a funny, little coincidence. You shriek, but right yourself quickly, clearing your throat and smoothing your clothes. "No." You pause, rolling your eyes when the word doesn't come with your own baby quake. "That didn't inspire an earthquake like yours did, but I hope you know I also mean business." The corner of Seungcheol's lip twitches, and after a brief standoff, he simply turns away from you and begins walking down to the beach. "Are you coming or not?" he asks without turning around. "Um, should we maybe not be on the beach as a tsunami approaches?" He stops walking and turns over his shoulder to glower at you. "Right. I'm coming! I'm coming. Wait for me, please!" you scramble after him, laptop still tucked under your arm as you stumble through the sand clumsily. You reach him, unabashedly grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself as you bend down to kick your shoes off. He raises an eyebrow at you. "They make it harder to walk in sand." His eyes slowly drop to your hand on his body, and you immediately take it back. He clears his throat, adjusting the linen on his arm before rolling his shoulders as his cheeks turn a soft pink. "You should not make a habit of touching gods." "Okay," you say dumbly. "I won't touch gods. Sorry." "Let's go." He stalks off without another word, and it isn't until you're standing in wet sand that you realize the sky has darkened considerably, filled with dozens of birds fluttering about.

MISSION SUMMARY REPORT MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-SG LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N, Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer DATE ISSUED: 3 April 2026 DATE COMPLETED: 4 April 2026 DURATION: 28 hours DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Unusual seismic activity Mega tsunami KEY OBSERVATIONS:

I'm alive. I'm ALIVE!!! So is everyone else. No casualties or injuries. But most importantly, ME. I AM ALIVE!!!!!!

The tremors the WMO detected seem to have graduated to earthquakes later measured at 6.8 on the Richter scale, creating a tsunami approximately 120 kilometers from the Singaporean shore. The tsunami, estimated to be over 20 meters tall, never reached land.

Civilians were successfully evacuated to Bukit Timah Hill, where they received aid and instructions to find displaced loved ones via Officer Lee's very efficient check-in system. Although the tsunami never reached land, Officer Lee successfully achieved a 100% evacuation rate. GO CHAN!

As previously discussed and well-documented via Microsoft Teams, I expect raises for Officer Lee and me, effective immediately

OFFICER ASSESSMENT: As referenced in my last mission summary, God played a large hand in stopping this tsunami. God, it turns out, has a name! It's Horus, Uniter of something or other, but he lets me call him Seungcheol. I expressed a healthy amount of skepticism in my last report when it came to Seungcheol's claims. I am both excited (as a human being) and incredibly confused and conflicted (as a lover and believer of science) to report that I have zero skepticism now. Make no mistake, Seungcheol is the only reason Singapore continues to stand today. He's the reason anyone is still alive. He's the reason the ocean ran from him screaming like a scared child. HE IS THE REASON! Oh my god, I think I may be religious? Wait, should it be oh my Horus? Oh my Seungcheol? I—

Joshua scrubs his face in frustration, sinking low in his seat, just as Jeonghan reads whatever made your boss give up and giggles uncontrollably. He points at the report, pulled up on Joshua's computer rather than printed out this time—something about saving paper when he knows it will need to be edited heavily on the computer first anyway. "Oh my Horus," Jeonghan repeats. "You've lost your Horus-damned mind, Y/N." You grin, pointing at him. "Good one." "Thanks," he giggles again, pushing Joshua out of his own seat so that he can sit down and continue reading through your mission summary report. "Why are you entertaining this?" he whines at his boss. You think it's probably taking a lot of willpower for Joshua to keep from stomping his foot. Jeonghan snorts. "You saw her video. Why wouldn't I entertain this?" Joshua turns toward you, eyes narrowed in clear suspicion. The video in question has Seungcheol on camera, seemingly punching a hole straight through the wave, effectively dispelling it several kilometers out from shore—and in 4K. Unfortunately, it also caught you eating shit when you fell over from the sonic boom it caused in 4K. "Swear on your life you didn't edit that video." You raise a hand. "I swear on my life that I didn't edit that video, other than to trim out the part where I fell. I swear to God." You raise your eyebrows emphatically, tilting your head in the direction of who exactly you're swearing to. Joshua's eyes follow your gesture to Seungcheol, who stands behind you, refusing to sit in the chair next to yours. "Swearing to me does nothing, mortal," he says gruffly. "I will accept red meat, beer, incense, or gold, though. Preferably all four." You turn around to look at him, his eyes flicking down to you without moving his head. "You take offerings?" He doesn't bother answering verbally, but you've learned to read his eyebrows by now. They twitch upward as if to say, Is that not what I just said, mortal? You nod. "Not like… human offerings though, right?" "I—" "Great, I've signed off and am sending this to the printer. I'll submit it myself," Jeonghan announces, pushing himself away from the desk. Joshua looks at him like he's lost his mind. "What? I'm your boss. If I say it's fine, who's going to tell me I'm wrong?" You smile. "Thank you, Chief Yoon."

He snorts. "'Chief Yoon'? That's cute, kiss ass. Raises should be reflected in your next paycheck. Lee's too. Glad you're alive." He makes his way out of the room, nodding at Seungcheol as he goes. "Your Highness." "Incorrect" is all the god says as Jeonghan exits. Joshua flops back into his seat. "Why are you here again?" he asks the god. "Don't be rude, Joshua," you murmur, embarrassed. "You are in the presence of a god. Would it kill you to sit up?" Your boss makes it clear it would absolutely kill him to sit up right now. You roll your eyes. "He's here because he knows where Set will be next." "And who is Set? And why do we care?" You glare. "If you read the mission summary report, you wouldn't have to make me explain all of this to you all over again." "I'll make you a deal," your boss says, leaning forward. "If you can get to your point in the next three sentences I read in your report, then I will finish the rest of it. If not, you're going to sit here and answer all of my questions for as long as it takes me to understand all of your absolute nonsense." "Perhaps you should watch your tone when speaking to her," the man behind you warns. Your boss's eyes meet Seungcheol's briefly, before immediately coming back down to you. He clears his throat uncomfortably. You scoff, unaffected by Joshua's lack of patience for you. "Fine! Deal!" Joshua shakes his head in disbelief as he turns to his computer, picking up right where he left off. "'I should probably go to church,'" he recites with a sigh. "That's sentence one." You roll your eyes. "'I'll ask Seungcheol if he has a church I can go to.' Sentence two." "I do not," the god answers you. "Though it is… amusing how eager you are to worship me, mortal." The words immediately make you want to stick your head into sand and never come out. Joshua looks between the two of you with a mild level of derision. He turns back to the screen to read the third sentence. "'Anyway, Seungcheol's evil uncle, Set (uncle comma Set, NOT Uncle Set)'—" Seungcheol hums in approval, making you preen with pride. "—'who murdered his father has awoken again, and is now wreaking all kinds of havoc…'" Joshua's voice tapers off as he realizes the third sentence he allowed you is the longest run-on you've ever written in your life.

"Keep reading!" you bark. "You said three sentences! Read 'em!" He shakes his head but obliges anyway. "Jesus… uh, 'is now wreaking all kinds of havoc, causing storms and shit because he's mad that Seungcheol defeated him a million years ago'—" "Incorrect. Not a million." "It's hyperbolic," you clarify for Seungcheol. "An exaggeration." "Ah." "—'and is back for revenge (if you have not realized by now, he's also a god), so Seungcheol is searching for him to defeat him once more and put a stop to all this madness, therefore he is our one and only hope at defeating these storms—not Jeon Wonwoo and the WMO.'" Joshua sits in silence after the conclusion of the sentence. Someone might mistake him for reading the rest of your report, but you recognize the far away look in his eyes as him desperately trying to keep from screaming and pulling his hair out. "So that is why Seungcheol is here," you say, smiling widely. "After stopping the tsunami, which I can again confirm is 100 percent real, he so graciously agreed to come back with us and help us mortals. All we need to do is find Set, stop him from ending the world or whatever it is he wants to do—" "Take over it, not end it," Seungcheol corrects. "Right," you nod. "We stop that, and the storms end!" "Ha…" Joshua forces out a huff of laughter. "Right…" He blinks several times, nodding as his left eye twitches. "Okay, um. Please get out of my office and let me take a nap." You raise an eyebrow at him. "Very glad you are alive, by the way. Please leave now." "But we—" "Do whatever you'd like," Joshua interjects, waving a hand at you. "Just say Jeonghan told you you could if anyone asks. Again, very glad you are not dead. Do not bother me for the next 24 hours." You snort. "Say less. Good night!" "It is midday." "Shhh," you shake your head at Seungcheol, taking his wrist in your hand and leading him out of the office. You release him to close the door softly behind you. "My boss is this close—" you pinch your fingers together. "—to having an absolute mental breakdown. Let's get far away from him." "I should inform you if you are serious about worshiping me, I will not accept any other 'bosses' in your life," Seungcheol says, causing your brain to malfunction. "I will be your only god." "Um, right," you say, trying to ignore the sudden warmth between your legs. "Right, right, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, hm? For now, I'd like to introduce you to my team and show you our weather center! Maybe we can get a headstart on where Set is headed next."

UNITED NATIONS — WORLD METEOROLOGICAL ORGANIZATION Workplace Incident Report (INTERNAL USE ONLY) REPORT ID: 960717 DATE FILED: 8 April 2026 INCIDENT DATE/TIME: 8 April 2026 FILED BY: Wonwoo Jeon INCIDENT TYPE: ⬜️ Verbal dispute ⬜️ Workplace misconduct ☑️ Physical altercation ☑️ Property damage ⬜️ Ongoing harassment ⬜️ Improper use of office resources PERSONNEL INVOLVED: Personnel 1: Name: Wonwoo Jeon Title: Director, Climate and Global Forecast Systems Status: ⬜️ Injured ⬜️ Uninjured ☑️ Requiring medical attention (detail below) Note: Although I bear no physical injuries, my team and I will forever be traumatized by this event. I demand counseling for us all.

Personnel 2: Name: Seungcheol Choi Title: Unclear, defer to Y/N L/N Status: ⬜️ Injured ☑️ Uninjured ⬜️ Requesting medical attention (detail below) Note: N/A Seungcheol is not employed by the UN and is therefore not beholden to our policies. I'm unsure why Director Jeon insists on including him in this report as he will not be reprimanded but I digress. - Y/N L/N PROPERTY DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: List all damaged property resulting directly from incident and estimated cost below. Item 1: Office chair (3) $1,100 each Item 2: Company laptop $1,500 Item 3: Personal phone $1,000 Item 4: Stapler $10 Item 5: Photo frame $15 INCIDENT SUMMARY: Please attach necessary witness statements to your report to assist HR in making processing efficient. At approximately 10:00, Y/N L/N entered the Global Forecast Operations Center with a stranger I would later learn is Choi Seungcheol. She informed me he will be a consultant for UNOCHA, approved by Chief Yoon, and would be helping my team understand the recent weather anomalies (in far less kind or professional words). Upon hearing my name, Choi Seungcheol said, "Jeon Wonwoo? Jeon Wonwoo of 'Y/N L/N, Storm Chaser, Protector of Citizens, and Mortal Enemy of Jeon Wonwoo and the WMO' Jeon Wonwoo?" which I still don't understand. Y/N nervously laughed and whispered something I couldn't hear to Seungcheol, who did not seem receptive to it. I am not sure what happened next but I was suddenly on the floor. ATTACHED WITNESS STATEMENTS:

📎 Seungkwan Boo: Did the UNOCHA start an Avengers program we weren't notified of? Have we been hiding superheroes this entire time? Does the WMO have some? Will we create super soldiers? If so, I would like to be considered for the WMO Super Soldier program. 📎 Jennifer Huh: I was looking for any emerging anomalies as instructed by Dir. Jeon when Officer L/N visited with that little guy she manages (Chad?) and another man I've never seen before (very handsome man). I don't know what was said but the new man lifted his hand and suddenly everything exploded. Or maybe not exploded. I'm not sure to be honest. I was kind of distracted. The man was very handsome. 📎 Kendall Ebeling: Okay I was technically taking my break and playing Valorant, but again, I was on my break so this cannot be considered a misuse of office resources as I was on a break. During my break (from both work and Valorant since I was waiting for a new game to start), I saw Officer L/N, Officer Lee, and a stranger come in. The stranger was mad at Director Jeon for doing something to Officer L/N. At this point, voices were rising so I exited my game while STILL ON MY BREAK to pay better attention. From what I gathered, Officer L/N called Director Jeon her sworn enemy at some point as a joke but this man took it VERY seriously. Anyway, I don't know how to describe what happened next (during my break) without sounding like I am losing my mind, but let's just say I am going to church during my NEXT break just in case God is real. 📎 Chan Lee: I saw nothing. 📎 Y/N L/N: If you are forcing me to submit a formal statement, I must insist on consulting a lawyer before putting anything into writing. Thank you. SUPERVISOR COMMENTS: No consequences recommended. Seems like your average work tussle. Approving counseling for Wonwoo and co. Approving expenses for replacing all damaged property aside from the stapler and photo frame. Cry me a river. Formally approving Choi Seungcheol as a consultant for the UNOCHA, reporting to Officer L/N. SIGNATURE: Jeonghan Yoon

"He's been here for almost two weeks now, and nothing has come up," Joshua points out as he makes himself his third cup of coffee this morning. "By all accounts, everything has gone back to normal. We don't need a consultant anymore—not that we ever did in the first place!" You glare at the ceiling. "Seungcheol says—" "The UN doesn't operate on 'Seungcheol says.' We operate on data. From the—" "The horde of dorks under Wonwoo's wing, I know," you say, rolling your eyes as you slide the creamer toward your boss. He mutters a thank you as he pours it into his cup. "But his data has been known to miss things." "One thing. It missed one thing." "And that one thing almost killed me!" you shriek, tired of having to remind people of your near death experience. "Seungcheol says he feels a presence! Set is still out there!" "How do you expect me to care about something I don't believe exists?" You shake your head. "Fine, whatever caused the typhoon and the tsunami is still out there!" "What, climate change?" Joshua snorts. "Yeah, I know." He takes his first sip from this newly made cup before heading out of the break room and toward his office. "Well… yes," you mutter, trying to keep up with his long strides. "But you know what I mean." "I actually don't. I haven't known anything you've meant since you returned from Korea, and frankly, I feel like everyone is kind of losing their minds here." You know it's because Jeonghan has pretty much completely accepted anything you say about Seungcheol as truth, even going as far as creating a budget meant solely to support his "consultation" needs—God Gold, he calls it, which Seungcheol accepted as an official offering. He now treats him like a loyal follower. He doesn't need to know Jeonghan probably thinks it's a bit, and Jeonghan doesn't need to know that most of the God Gold is going to snacks. For you. Even Wonwoo and the entire WMO are on board, mostly because they fear him the way only god-fearing people would. As for everyone else, you shove your phone and the video from Singapore in anybody's face who will spend more than two seconds with you, making it hard for anyone to refute your claims that the UN now has a representative god. Joshua is the only one keeping his reservations, even with all the evidence you've given him. And now, he wants to get rid of Seungcheol because things have been "normal" for the last two weeks. If you can call being a full-time godsitter "normal." "You can keep him around as long as you want," Joshua says as you both reach his office. A smile lights up your face and you open your mouth to thank him—until he finishes his thought. "In your personal life." Your smile immediately drops. "When you come to work, he's gone. It's time to return to the minuscule level of professionalism this office was holding onto by the very tips of its fingers before Korea happened." You scoff. You have never been professional within these walls a day in your life, but that is neither here nor there. "Fine. I'll make him go. But his next guess is South Asia. No signs pointing there—just a feeling. If something does happen, he's coming back as a consultant for as long as he's willing, and you stop pretending like something really fucking weird isn't happening."

Joshua opens his door and rolls his eyes. He obviously doesn't believe anything will happen because he says, "Deal." "And we keep the God Gold regardless of his involvement at the UN," you add. "What?" "Good talk," you huff, turning and retreating into your own office next door. Seungcheol is seated in your chair, his brows pulled all the way down as he scrutinizes your personal phone, laid flat on your desk. "Where'd you get that?" You don't know why you ask. You know exactly where he got it: the bottom drawer where you keep it while you work. He answers without looking at you. "Desk." You sigh as you hear the telltale sign of Seungcheol beating a level on Candy Crush. You drop yourself into the chair across from him and say, "You have an addiction." It's your fault, really. He heard you playing the game during your lunch break a few days ago, his interest piqued when he heard a ridiculously deep, male voice announce, "Tasty!" after a good combo. "Who is that?" he asked, staring at you hard from across the table in the break room, where he was eating another human hyperfixation he'd recently discovered in your lunchbox: Chocopie. "No one," you said truthfully. But several days with Seungcheol had taught him enough about the way you speak to know you sometimes said "no one" or "nothing" when you were 1. hiding something (your Chocopies) or 2. too lazy to have to explain something to him ("What is a 'dork' and why do you keep calling those people that?"). He mistook this for one of those moments. "Why are you hiding a man in your phone?" he asked, glaring at you. "Why is he calling you tasty? What does he find tasty?"

You gave him a puzzled look. "He's not calling me tasty! He's calling the combo tasty! You freaking weirdo." "So you are talking to someone." He unceremoniously grabbed the phone out of your hand, and after a brief struggle, a lecture about privacy, and a tutorial, a Candy Crush monster was born. He's been playing it every moment he hasn't been at the weather center, scanning data and scaring the nerds. "Gods do not suffer from trivial mortal afflictions like addiction," he mutters. "Okay, then stop." "I cannot." You snort but let him off the hook, reminding yourself he's been "asleep" long enough to have to catch up on everything you consider mundane. He should be allowed to enjoy something as mind-numbing as ad-riddled phone games. You've learned a few things about Seungcheol—not that many, but enough to dread having to fire him. He's a god named Horus whose father was murdered by his own brother, Set. After avenging his father, he went to sleep because "bringing peace and harmony to the world is deceptively tiring." He awoke with the storms and picked the "strongest, nearest unoccupied vessel to command," and… that's all. You suppose it's not enough to get as attached as you feel. You try not to fidget in your seat as you watch the god play on your phone. Why are you dreading telling Seungcheol that Joshua ordered you to fire him? He won't even know what that means; the concept of labor is utterly lost on him. For all you know, Seungcheol will think your boss is threatening harm upon him via flame and cause another workplace incident. It will be weird—having to work without him stuck to your side. Aside from wherever he disappeared to when it was time for you to go home, you have spent every moment of your day with Seungcheol. And while he hasn't gotten any less serious than when you first met, you're endlessly entertained by his antics. His discoveries about unremarkable human things make you appreciate them a little more. His commitment to treating Wonwoo like the man is truly your mortal enemy (and his subsequent amusement over how scared he and his staff are of him) pleases you. And his demands for more "offerings" from Jeonghan like beer and red meat on top of the God Gold never fails to make you laugh.

Seungcheol makes the work days feel a little shorter and the small stints of joy a little more frequent, even if it's clear he has no idea he's doing anything beyond what he's meant to—stopping these storms that you don't believe for a second are over. Maybe your reluctance to let go of any of that is the reason why you ask what you do. You open your mouth to deliver the news, but instead of something like "Hey, Seungcheol, the UN wants to step back on this project" or "Doesn't it kinda suck around here? Do you maybe want to quit?" your brain goes with, "Have you always been a god?" Seungcheol's face is proof that the question is as dumb as it sounds, his expression a perfect split between baffled and concerned—probably concern that your brain cells have all vacated the premises. "As opposed to… what…?" he asks, raising one, thick eyebrow at you. You shrug. You're not sure why you're asking that; you just said the first thing you thought of to avoid talking about his removal from your team. "I don't know anything about you. What if you were human once?" With how often he reminds you he is a god and would never want to be a measly mortal like you, you half expect him to curl his lip up in disgust or bark his singular, mocking laugh at you. He doesn't. He simply watches you steadily, the small downturn in his brows the only sign that he's not completely zoning out. "I was not ever human," he says finally. You think maybe he took so long to say it in an attempt to mask the regret he knew would seep into his voice. He didn't totally succeed. "I have always been a god." "Did you want to be?" you ask bluntly. "Human?"

He sighs heavily, something he learned to do from watching you deal with your boss, and he bends down to open your bottom drawer and tuck your phone back into it, resigned to being interrogated instead of left alone to his vices. When he sits back up, he stares at you with his hands folded on the table in front of him like this is his office. "Is there a reason you are back to asking me so many questions?" he asks. "I had a booster on Candy Crash." "Crush." It's alarming—how easily his expression can fall into a glare without even moving a single muscle in his face. "Right. Sorry. No reason. Just… curious." It isn't a total lie. His time here has been full of climate monitoring, data, tormenting Wonwoo, and mountains of paperwork for you to do from your eventful adventures across Asia. You haven't had time to get to know each other, though from the way he looks at you now, you're sure he was fine with going the rest of his immortal life without ever learning a single thing about you beyond both your and your mortal enemy's names. "I think you humans are… infuriating and annoying." You snort and the sound makes his lips twitch. "But you are also doing your best—most of the time. You suffer and you persevere and you smile and some of you destroy, but even more of you create. You find hope in the silliest things no one should find hope in." "Like?" you ask, a little amused to hear his observations of humanity over however many years he's existed.

"Like the calendar." "What?" "You always announce how many days left until a certain day on your calendar." You frown, unsure of what he could be talking about. He mimics you without even trying to change his voice, keeping it monotone as he sways back and forth, waving his hands in the air unenthusiastically. "'Payday this week. My will to live is returning as we speak.'" The laugh that comes out of you is so loud, it actually startles the god, which just makes you laugh harder. "Why are you laughing?" he asks, sounding irritated. You force yourself to calm down, shaking your head and grinning widely. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you... I'm actually not sure why I'm laughing," you admit, another giggle escaping your lips. You touch your fingers to your mouth, and when you're sure the laughter has subsided, you nod and try to temper your smile. "That was a very good impression of me." His lips slant, and you take his own version of a smile where you can get it. "Thank you." "And you're right." You nod. "I do find hope in the calendar." "See!" he says far too petulantly for a god. "You mortals find the most insignificant things to be happy about." One, last giggle fights its way out of you before you clear your throat and try to be serious again. You nod when you think your composure is under control. "Tell me more. What else have you observed about us?" "Most of what is considered beautiful about life were not given to you by us," he informs you. "They are human-made. We may have given you the tools for survival, but you made life. You made some very abhorrent things." You tilt your head in agreement. "But you also made hope, joy, love. You put meaning into everything because you cannot stand any of this meaning nothing. You care for others oftentimes better than yourself. You crave brotherhood." "Oh, not I. Absolutely not. I crave girlhood." "Ah, I was not aware the word had changed. Thank you. You crave girlhood." He corrects himself and you nod in approval. "You laugh and you fight and you uplift and… you are pure—purer than even any god I have known." He takes a small breath. "In any case… I strongly believe you are something worth protecting." You know he's addressing the entirety of humanity, but you don't think your heart, which does giddy somersaults in your ribs, gets the memo. "I have dedicated my life to doing that. All that I have ever done has been and will always be in the name of protecting humans." He swallows and you realize he's nervous. He shrugs a little, the movement ironically looking so human on him. "I suppose I have existed long enough to wonder what it would be like if I were something worth protecting to someone as well." He nods thoughtfully like he's internally checking to see if he's telling the truth. "If that makes me a god who has wished to be human before, then yes. I have." From the way he looks at you blankly like he's waiting for the next question you'll inevitably fire at him, you know he has no idea the gravity of his words on an emotional person like you. You've admittedly (and rightfully) been a little preoccupied with Seungcheol being a god. Even if you still question the absurdity of everything when you're alone at home, in the quiet of the night, your belief in him has been surprisingly unwavering. So of course, your mind hasn't done much other than try to process his existence and how it can help stop the storms. In the two weeks he's been here at work with you, you never stopped to consider that he… had feelings? Are deities not above such "mortal afflictions"?

Well, if he's been deflecting with comments about how inconsequential he finds humans just to have a list this long about all the things he finds beautiful about them, then no. You suppose gods aren't above the afflictions of yearning for something you can't have at all. Seungcheol, it turns out, is just as human as you are. You immediately feel the guilt of being so casually inconsiderate seep in, and your shoulders deflate in defeat. Have you ever even asked him how he was doing? How his day was? If he needed anything? Oh god, you think. What if Chocopies are all he has to eat and you've been hiding them from him? "Are you hungry?" you ask. "Hungry…" he repeats, giving you that same baffled look. You nod, immediately standing up and jerking your head toward the door. "Come on," you say, aware you sound a little frazzled, your movements a little frantic. You move to his side of your desk, bumping your rolling chair with him in it out of the way so you can retrieve your phone and purse. "I am going to treat you to a meal!" Seungcheol doesn't show any excitement but he does stand immediately, which you take as a good sign. "Will there be meat and beer?" He's literally been asking for meat and beer 24/7 since you've met him, and you're just taking him seriously now. You want to slap your palm to your forehead, but instead you smile tightly and nod. "There is going to be so much meat and beer, you're going to lose your Horus-damned mind." "Stop saying that," he grumbles as he follows you. "Jeonghan is a bad influence on you." You snort, leading the way toward the exit. "Or I'm a bad influence on him." The god falls silent like he's actually contemplating it. As you pass his office, Joshua walks out with an already empty coffee mug, startling when he almost runs into you. "Oh! Is she walking you out?" he asks Seungcheol. You try not to give anything away on your face. "Yes," the god answers, voice as icy as it always is around your boss. Joshua nods, at least having the shame to look regretful. "Sorry about this, man. We just need to—" "Yeah, yeah, whatever," you cut in before he can say anything else about firing Seungcheol. "I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off to treat him to barbecue." You don't give your boss a chance to protest past the small noise he makes, already barreling past with a god hot on your heels. "Are you sure you are not the boss?" Seungcheol asks, the tiniest piece of mischief layered in his voice. You smile at him. "Oh, I'm definitely the boss," you inform him as you unlock your car and gesture for him to get in. He hums thoughtfully but says nothing else.

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS Expense Report (INTERNAL USE ONLY) FILED BY: Y/N L/N SUPERVISOR: Joshua Hong SUBMISSION DATE: April 17 EXPENSE DATE: April 16 EXPENSES: AYCE KBBQ – $675 Bird feed – $60 Karaoke – $90 Chocopies – $25 COST CENTER: 1004 (God Gold) PARTICIPATING PERSONNEL: Seungcheol Choi

BUSINESS JUSTIFICATION: Engagement with our contracted consultant is vital for team building and morale. Additional charges incurred are a result of consultant's dietary needs and restrictions. REVIEWER (if different from supervisor): Jeonghan Yoon Reminder: All expense reports and reimbursement requests must comply with the UN's financial and gifts & entertainment policies and include proper receipt documentation.

To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: bruh what the hell is this expense report from last week and why is it going to me instead of hong Sent from iPhone

To: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: bruh As stated in the report, it was to cover a team outing. It was addressed to you because I want it to be approved. Do you think Hong would approve? To: You <[email protected]@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: RE: bruh chocopies fine. karaoke MAYBE. but i can't just approve almost $700 worth of kbbq what is wrong with you?? how do you even spend $700 at ayce kbbq for TWO PEOPLE??? and bird feed for WHAT Sent from iPhone

To: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: bruh As stated in the report, Seungcheol has very specific dietary needs and restrictions, resulting in an incredibly high bill at our morale-building dinner. He ate so much meat that at some point, the manager begged us to leave. He was still hungry, and who am I to deny a god a meal? I told the manager we'd pay them for each round of meat and we were allowed to stay.

Anyway, I've literally never seen anything like it. I was simultaneously in awe and a little bit grossed out. I think cows would go extinct if we let him run free. He also drank enough pitchers of beer that they cut him off because "there's no way he doesn't have alcohol poisoning." Spoiler alert: he did not even achieve a buzz. So. That is how you spend $700 on AYCE KBBQ.

The karaoke bill should've been a lot cheaper, but I spent more time in there explaining the machinations of K-Pop to him. Unfortunately, I did not realize we'd been there for hours until we paid for our time in the room. As for the bird feed, Seungcheol has some friends I didn't know about, and I wanted them to eat too. He insisted that was unnecessary since they're "strong, competent hunters," but I bought them feed anyway. The falcons weren't about it, as expected, but the little birds loved it. I've noticed more of them following me around now. It seems to please Seungcheol, so if you don't approve that expense, I guess I don't mind paying for it. Worth it. But I cannot pay for anything else. Happy to answer any more Qs you have. Otherwise… please please please approve this. If you make me explain this to Joshua, he will have an aneurysm then quit his job and if he quits, I'll quit and if I quit, Chan will absolutely quit and it'll be all your fault and you'll have even more work than you already do.

To: You <[email protected]@unocha> From: UNOCHA Expense Reports Center <expenses@unocha> Subject: Your expense report 951004 has been approved J. Yoon has approved your expense report submitted April 17. View your report here.

To: You <[email protected]@unocha> From: J. Yoon <jeonghan.yoon@unocha> Subject: RE: bruh so… you went on a date…? Sent from iPhone

You look up from where you were reading Jeonghan's latest email on your phone, brows furrowed as you consider his question. A date? No, you were just getting to know Seungcheol. As a friend. Because you've been an asshole who's been looking at him as nothing but a storm-chasing god meant to help you and your team. And you succeeded; you learned a lot about Seungcheol that may not have been as deep-cutting as his innate desire to be human but just as important in your opinion. For example, he wants to be the one to cook and takes great offense when you so much as look at the tongs. Unsurprisingly, he's also the type of person who serves the other first when eating, constantly piling your plate with food long after you had already tapped out (at round four out of what you suspect was dozens), citing your need to be healthy and strong. He's slept with both men and women, a fact you found out when the male server wouldn't stop flirting with him and you teased him for it, not-at-all expecting his response to be: "I need the men I lay with to be much more… formidable than he is." He went on to explain that his partners are not chosen by a perceived gender—the use of which he admits still perplexes him—but by how strong he finds them. Of the offerings he demands, meat and beer are his favorite, in that order. He told you about a time ages ago when he never went a day without several offerings, receiving them from all around the world with fervor from his enthusiastic worshipers. He grew quieter when he shared that he woke up to a very different world—maybe one that has forgotten the might of gods. You definitely blushed when he told you, "So it satisfies me to no end to receive this offering from you," and you didn't bother correcting him to inform him it was not meant to be an offering and was just a regular human hangout.

Though you learned back in Singapore that he commanded everything in the sky, he really drove the point home when you left the KBBQ restaurant hours later to a cloudy night sky and you mentioned wishing you could see the moon. He simply pointed at the sky and there it was, not a single cloud marring it. And sure, that was probably the most romantic thing that has ever happened and will ever happen to you, but it still wasn't a date. The thought is absurd. What kind of date involves eating enough pounds of meat to feed a small country? Or having to explain what the fuck Inkigayo is? "Oh, sorry, am I bothering you?" Your eyes slide from the wall, back to your boss. You raise your eyebrows. "What?" He half laughs and half scoffs. "Why did I even hire you?" Your face falls, deciding you don't care what it was he was saying. "If you think anyone else would put up with your constant complaining and moaning and groaning and whining and needless copy-editing, you are sorely mistaken, Joshua Hong." He glares at you, ignoring the rant and repeating what you assume he was saying before Jeonghan's email distracted you. "Why is he still here? I told you to let him go a week ago." A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "I can't do it. He's not even getting paid—not really, anyway! He has no concept of a salary or benefits! Why does it matter if he's here?"

"It matters because everyone is distracted," he points out. "The entire WMO just freezes when you two are at the weather center, and Wonwoo can barely breathe, let alone function well enough to do his job when they're in the same room. I can never find Chan at his desk anymore because he does his work wherever the two of you are, and on the topic of you, you're so wrapped up in this god theory—" "It's not a theory!" you exclaim. "It is happening right in front of your eyes and you're being purposefully obtuse!" "Regardless," he says, his voice gaining that edge you recognize as his fast approach to being genuinely angry with you. You deflate into your seat a little. "You're so wrapped up in whatever this is, you're losing sight of your responsibilities." You don't bother refuting the point, knowing that pushing Joshua's buttons any more will just result in several days of Professional Boss Joshua—your least favorite personality of his. The one that doesn't speak to you unless it's about work, doesn't entertain jokes, and doesn't care to be a friend outside of being a colleague. And at the end of the day, everyone at work is someone you consider a friend because you don't really have those outside of these walls. That's also why you probably don't want to fire your newest one. "Is this a formal complaint about my performance?" you ask quietly. He sighs, shaking his head. "No, of course not. I just need you focused again. We're behind on paperwork and you have team members who are due for deployments soon. The longer you stay hyperfixated on storms that aren't even happening, the more you fall behind." You nod slowly. It's a fair piece of feedback. You know Seungcheol has been a priority for you since you were able to convince him to come back with you, but you also wholeheartedly believe him when he says Set's presence is strong—that he'll be striking again soon. You just don't know how to buy him more time without completely sacrificing your job.

"Fire him, Y/N," Joshua orders with finality. You know there's no way of skirting around this one. "If you need me to, I will. And I won't wait to do it." "No it's okay," you mumble, dejected as you stand and make to leave his office. "I'll do it." "Good." You walk to the exit, and just as you reach out to turn the knob, the door is thrown open with an anxious and frantic force only Jeon Wonwoo is capable of. "What the fuck!" you scream as the door connects with your face, sending you stumbling several steps back. "Oh shit! I'm so sorry! Oh fuck!" "Wonwoo, what the hell!" Joshua shouts. You hear the stomps of his feet as he runs around his desk to where you are. "Are you o—holy shit." "What?!" you shriek, your eyes squeezed shut as you cradle your nose. "Wonwoo, what the fuck?!" Joshua repeats, graduating to cussing that you, once again, cannot enjoy in the moment. "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so, so sorry!" "Oh my god! Is it broken?!" you screech, ignoring your aggressor's apologies. "Is my nose broken?! Did you just break my nose?! Why don't you ever fucking knock?!" When you don't get an immediate response, your voice reaches a fever pitch as you scream, "Why isn't anyone answering me?! Am I bleeding?!" "It was an accident, I swear! Don't kill me!" "Oh, I'll fucking kill you if you don't answer me right now!" you say, whimpering at the thought of needing surgery for your nose. You've never even broken anything. It's silent as you sense who you think is probably Wonwoo scramble away from you.

You feel gentle fingers close around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face. You allow who you assume is Joshua to do so, trusting that Wonwoo isn't dumb enough to touch you right now. One hand moves from your wrist to your nose, a single finger running down the bridge of it. You wince when the pain multiplies. You jerk your head away but the hand still around your wrist holds you in place. "Breathe in." You inhale involuntarily anyway when you realize it's Seungcheol's voice. As soon as you do, you feel a strange tingling sensation in your nose before it snaps back into the place you suspected the door forced it out of. You squeak from the surprise but feel no pain, even as the tingling spreads from the center of your face to your cheeks. "What the hell…" Joshua breathes to your left. "Does that feel better?" Seungcheol asks, letting his hand fall from your nose. He squeezes your wrist once and you open your eyes. He stands before you, much closer than you expected, eyes trained on you so intently—the gold one sparkling much brighter than usual—you visibly squirm. He asks again. "Are you alright?" You reach up to your nose and cheeks to touch them, and when you feel no pain, you nod. "I'm fine… I think." "How did you…" Joshua trails off, his eyes on your nose and his finger half-lifted toward you in confusion. "Her nose…" You're just as surprised as Joshua. Aside from the whole "I can stop massive storms and tsunamis" thing he had going on, you never thought to wonder if Seungcheol could do other, equally fantastical things. Like healing a broken nose.

"Good," Seungcheol says, ignoring your boss and nodding at you once. His hand slips from your wrist, and your fingers twitch with the need to feel him again. "Excuse me while I take care of your mortal enemy." "What?" Seungcheol turns toward Wonwoo, who immediately lets out a laughably high-pitched shriek and cowers behind a smaller, very puzzled Joshua. "I said it was an accident! I didn't mean it!" It only dawns on you now that his pleas for mercy before were not for you, but for the god, who must have heard the commotion from your own office next door. You almost huff in annoyance but when Seungcheol reaches his right hand out and a brilliant ball of golden light that looks like the sun itself spirals down his arm and manifests into a huge spear taller than himself in his grip, your irritation is forgotten. "Seungcheol, don't!" you gasp, putting yourself between him and your colleagues. "Please move." "No, you can't just go around impaling nerds with your little sun spear because they're annoying," you tell him, throwing Wonwoo a dirty look over your shoulder. He mouths another apology at you before you turn your attention back to the god. "His offense is not being annoying," he grunts, fingers tightening around the golden spear. Your eyes travel up to the tip of it, and you swallow when you see how sharp it is. It looks like it will draw blood if you look at it for too long. "His offense is hurting what is mine."

Your eyes widen and your face immediately flushes. "Huh?" you squeak. "What's his…?" you hear Wonwoo repeat in a panicked whisper. "His what?" Joshua doesn't answer him, instead asking his own question. "Are we going to just skim over the fact that he healed her face? Is that not something that we are going to discuss…? Her nose was broken! She was already beginning to bruise!" He gets his answer when everyone ignores him. "What do you mean?" you ask your consultant. "It is my duty to ensure no harm comes to my consort," Seungcheol says casually like it's something everyone in this room should have known. "What?!" Joshua finally snaps out of his daze. "Your consort?! Since when?! Is this why you've been dragging your feet firing him? Is that even allowed? Did you tell HR?" "Be quiet before I change my mind and decide to make being annoying a punishable offense," Seungcheol barks at him. Your boss falls silent immediately. You wish you could laugh. Instead, you blink at the god several times, mouth opening and closing but failing to form syllables for what feels like hours. "Your… consort…" you repeat. "Like… a queen consort… like… a wife…" "Yes." He says the word like this information isn't making your stomach turn in knots. "Now please step aside." "No, no, let's just go back to the consort thing super duper quick," you say, shaking your head several times. "Um, what makes you, uh, call me… that?" He looks at you like you've lost your mind, a look you've grown quite used to at this point. "Your offering." "My… offering…" you repeat, narrowing your eyes as you try to follow. "The dinner?" He nods. "Okay… and… what about my offering?"

"You hit her head hard enough that she has lost her memories," Seungcheol hisses as he fixes his glare over your head, right at Wonwoo. "I will end you." "Oh my god," Wonwoo whines. "Should we call HR?" Joshua whispers. "We should call the police!" he shriek-whispers back. "I didn't lose my memories!" you yell, hands waving frantically as you try to redirect Seungcheol's attention to you. "I would just like to understand what's happening here! I'm a little confused!" Seungcheol frowns down at you. "About what?" "About being your… consort," you whisper the last word, suddenly feeling outrageously shy having this conversation in front of other people. With how much travel your job demands of you, your dating life has been dormant for years now. And before that, you had never even gotten past the "what's your favorite color" stage, let alone the marriage stage. "Why are you whispering?" he asks loudly. You glare at him. "Can you please lower your voice?" you whisper again through gritted teeth, stepping closer to him so he can hear. "Explain this to me like I'm a child." He frowns even harder, eyes going to the ceiling as he shakes his head like he's explaining that the sky is blue. He at least acquiesces and whispers back, "You gave me the biggest offering I have ever received. You arrange for others to give me offerings as well."

"What? Like who?" "Jeonghan," he answers. "I have decided to make Chocopies part of my accepted offerings, and he supplies me many, at your request. The little one has also shared his lunch with me." You gawk at him. "Chan?" He shrugs. Chan was treating the god like a friend before even you were. "And all of that makes me your consort…?" "No. All of that makes you a high priestess." "Oh." "I have simply decided to take you as my consort." "What?! 'Take me'?" you scoff, looking him up and down. He follows your gaze and raises an eyebrow at you. "Don't I get a say?!" "A say in what?" "In whether or not I want to be your wife!" "Why would you offer me so much meat and beer if you were not hoping to become a god's wife?"

"Oh my god," you breathe, chest rising and falling quickly as you begin to connect the dots of your misunderstanding. "Seungcheol." You take a deep breath before asking, "Exactly how long have you been asleep?" He shrugs. "Perhaps a thousand years? I am not sure." "A thousand?!" Joshua squeaks again. If you knew his belief would come with so many interruptions, you wouldn't have pestered him so much for it. "Okay, makes sense," you nod, rolling your lips between your teeth and trying not to panic. "So we have a lot to catch you up on when it comes to matrimony, I see. Since when do gods even take mortal wives?" You mutter the question more to yourself, but he answers anyway. "Since I decided I wanted to." You balk at him, hating yourself for the small feeling of pride that blooms in your chest at the insinuation you're his first chosen partner. You shake your head to clear it. A god thinks you're his consort, dude. Get it together. "Now please move so I can end the mortal who hurt my wife." The words make several parts of you ache, but you focus on the matter at hand: preventing Wonwoo's untimely, bloody death. If you actually have managed to accidentally become a god's wife, that has to come with some perks—like ordering him around and expecting him to obey. Unless "happy wife, happy life" is not something god's observe. After all, Seungcheol doesn't strike you as someone who likes to follow. Regardless, you have to try. "No! It was an accident, Seungcheol. Those things happen!" You hesitantly lay a hand on the spear, chills running down your spine when your skin meets the warm gold. It doesn't budge until you give Seungcheol an exasperated look. He glares at you before relenting, allowing you to to push the spear down by his side.

"Now, I will deal with Wonwoo how I see fit," you inform him. "And you will put… that away." You pause, looking at his spear expectantly. He stares at you hard and you fight to keep your composure, straightening your posture and tilting your head to meet his unwavering gaze. After a moment, something in his expression softens and he nods—barely noticeable to anyone but you. The spear dissipates into a million tiny fragments of light, and the room collectively lets out a breath. "I have chosen well," he says, voice low as he watches you. "A strong partner." The words nestle between your legs. "Uh, congrats on your union…?" Joshua says uncertainly. "Shut up," you murmur, turning to glare at him. Seungcheol looks up at Wonwoo and you catch him flinching. "As soon as she says I am allowed to, I will rip you limb from limb." "I will not be allowing you to do that ever," you clarify, looking at the god. "Come on. We should talk." "No time," Seungcheol says simply. "We must go." You frown. "Where?" "India," he answers. "There's—" "Some kind of phenomenon happening," Wonwoo finishes, finally stepping out from behind Joshua, obviously in awe that the god already knows. "It's what I was running over here to tell you!" "Fuck," Joshua groans, shoulders sagging. You grin, finally enjoying this one curse because you know that between your broken nose and the confirmation that Seungcheol really did feel a presence in South Asia, Joshua can't resist the truth any longer. He looks at you and nods. "Fine. You can keep him." You clap several times and shriek with the excitement of getting your way. "Come on, my very employed consultant. To India!"

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS DEPLOYMENT NOTIFICATION: IMMEDIATE MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-IN LOCATION: Republic of India LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N (or… Choi?), Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer DATE ISSUED: 24 April 2026 DURATION: TBD DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Atmospheric anomaly; reduced solar visibility event? SUMMARY: The WMO has noted an unusual haze affecting northern India with significantly declined visibility over the last 48 hours. Current readings do not fully match pollution, wildfire, volcanic, or seismic activity or seasonal patterns. Forecast models have become increasingly unhelpful, and predictive confidence remains low. Personnel are being deployed based on observed patterns by external consultant, Choi Seungcheol, who has frustratingly been correct several times in a row now. OBJECTIVES:

Assess transportation risks and provide recommendations for support

Provide updated observations to the WMO Forecast Operations Center

Submit SITREP within 12 hours of arrival and every 6 hours until reassignment or the sky has decided to behave normally again

TRAVEL ADVISORY:

Personnel should expect limited sunlight regardless of time of day

Respiratory protection is strongly advised until we receive air composition test results

Please tell your team members to refrain from asking if this is "another god thing" over official channels

In the case of a life-threatening event, we strongly recommend using what little survival skills you seem to possess and prioritizing your life. To be abundantly clear, NO ONE in this office expects or wants you to risk your life to submit a SITREP. In fact, if either of your senior managers receive distressing messages about you dying, you will be suspended WITHOUT PAY should you survive.

AUTHORIZED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section

Foolishly enough, it doesn't occur to you to be scared of the situation at hand until you arrive in India and bear witness to what this "anomaly" has done to its skies. You've almost been dragged away in a typhoon Wizard of Oz-style and you were uncomfortably close to experiencing a historic tsunami, but you didn't let the fear bubble up past your ability to push forward. You think your ability to do that is waning. As you stare up at the darkness that nearly blacks out the sky, what Seungcheol has been trying to drill into your head begins to really, truly sink in: the world is in danger. Maybe you haven't felt as scared up until this point because something in you knew that he had it handled—that he would protect you and everyone else, and everything would be fine. After all, everything has been fine so far. But you feel scared now, and it's probably due to the fact that the god next to you doesn't seem to understand what's happening any more than you do. "Seungcheol," you say his name quietly, unsure if he'll even hear you over the chaos of the street below your hotel balcony. "What is this?" He continues staring at the sky, turning his thoughts over and over in his mind the same way you found him back in Korea. Just when you think he's too preoccupied to entertain one of your questions, he looks down at you, worry unmistakeably etched into the space between his brows.

"I am… unsure." You shake your head. "This doesn't feel like the others, does it?" you ask him, thinking aloud. "It's not so… chaotic. Or violent." In fact, you're impressed by how life has continued on without a hitch for the locals. The sky is, by most people's definition, black at 11 a.m., and everyone carries on like nothing is happening. You reckon they assume it's the result of a wildfire or a terribly polluted day, especially since they haven't received word from officials about what's happening. The air composition test that Wonwoo ordered before your deployment hasn't returned any results yet, but you don't need it to say definitively that this isn't pollution. You're not sure the word "haze" even effectively describes the issue you've been sent to observe. The sky is too clear to be called hazy. Right now, it just looks like someone threw a blanket over the sun. You can just barely see the outline of it—like the light is fighting tooth and nail to pierce through the blanket and failing.

"You sound scared." "I mean, I am!" your voice comes out in a squeak. "Why?" he asks, as seemingly confused about your fear as he is about the sky. You gesture at the vast darkness above you. "Why wouldn't I be?" "You did not exhibit much fear before." You balk at him. "I think we have very different memories of Korea and Singapore if you think I wasn't afraid." He studies you carefully before his shoulder twitches upward in a small shrug. "You were frantic, yes. But you were not afraid. You ran after me into the storm in Korea. You came back to the shoreline after evacuating the locals in Singapore. Both times you could have very well died." He looks away from you and toward the sky. "But would you go into this darkness without knowing what was waiting for you?" The question leaves you holding your breath. He has a point—this fear feels as different as the atmosphere right now. Your work is grounded in things that have been long-studied and understood before you were even born. You know that warm ocean waters and wind make for the perfect typhoon. You know that when a tectonic plate is forced underneath another in the middle of the ocean, the centuries of stress it causes will have to go somewhere someday, and that when it inevitably does, it can and will cause a tsunami.

The scariest things about these two incidents wasn't that they happened; it was that no one saw them coming and no one was able to prepare. But at least you knew how they happened. You knew how to react and how to respond and all the risks associated with running into the danger. The scariest thing about your mission now is that you have no idea what could have caused this. You don't know anything. This is no longer a matter that science can help you make sense of; this feels like a matter belonging entirely to the gods—to Seungcheol. "I would go in if it meant it would help," you answer him honestly. Even if Joshua would disagree, you still wholly believe you have a responsibility to help no matter the cost. He calls it something you need to unpack in therapy. You call it your job. "I would be scared the entire time, but I would." You don't need to ask him the same question because you know the answer, but he tells you anyway. "I would too." He pauses before adding, "I would be nowhere near as scared as you seem to be, but I would go in with you." You laugh, rolling your eyes as you do, and you don't miss the way the corner of his lips quirk up into the world's smallest smile. "Okay, tough guy," you sigh when you catch your breath. "Good to know neither of us would be alone in… that."

Seungcheol hums as he stares at the midday night alongside you. "Can you bring it back?" you ask. "The sun?" Seungcheol sighs. "I am not sure. Although I command the skies, the sun is not completely under my domain. Set—or whoever this is—knows that." You frown. "What do you mean 'whoever this is'?" He shakes his head, clearly annoyed with himself for not having an answer. "This is not characteristic of Set at all. Set thrives on disorder and chaos. Storms." He nods at the street below. "This would not satisfy Set." You look down from the balcony, observing the road packed with cars, mopeds, and people, all on their way somewhere, all with something to do. It is chaotic and disorderly—but only to you. This is every day for the locals. Seungcheol is right; they're not panicking at all. Compared to the screaming crowds in Korea and Singapore, hundreds of people tripping over each other to reach safety, this is the picture of calm.

"Set sounds like a real piece of work," you grumble. "Gaining your power from sheer panic is a whole new level of low." He grunts in agreement but says nothing more. "Did you ever... forgive him…? For what he did to your father?" He shakes his head. "I cannot grant forgiveness to someone who has not asked for it." You wince. "That's terrible, I'm sorry." He hums in response but again, says nothing else. "I don't know if I agree that you can't forgive someone who hasn't apologized, though." "What do you mean?" "Maybe forgiving him would be more about you being able to accept your circumstances and move on, rather than giving him peace." "I have moved on."

"You went to sleep for what you think is a thousand years immediately after defeating him," you point out. "Kind of sounds like an extreme attempt at avoiding your feelings if you ask me." You feel his stare boring holes into your profile, but you don't turn to meet his gaze. You simply shrug and add, "But you didn't ask me, so…" "I did not," he agrees. After a beat, he adds, "But I value your opinion all the same. If we can confirm that this is not Set resorting to his old ways and causing more trouble… I suppose I will consider forgiving him. For myself." "Good," you say, smiling to yourself. You glance at him briefly to see his eyes are still on you. You purse your lips in thought before deciding that asking your next question is what you would ask a friend. And if you're trying to be more considerate of the god's feelings, it's your duty to ask. So you do: "Do you want to tell me about him? Your dad?" Seungcheol's frame becomes rigid for a brief moment before he forces himself to relax. He reaches forward and wraps his fingers around the railing, leaning against it. You're struck by how casual and human he looks. "There is nothing to speak of," he says quietly. "I never met him. I was created by my mother solely to avenge him and take my rightful place as king."

You frown. "Created?" "From a piece of the sky itself—a bolt of lightning." "And you just agreed to avenge someone you never even knew?" you ask. "Isn't that asking for a bit much from a child?" "I was no ordinary child. I am a god, and it was my duty. I only exist to protect order and justice—to protect the world. If I cannot do even that, I am of no use." Your frown deepens. He makes being guardian of the world sound like an easy feat, and you can't help the feeling he's only repeating words he's heard from someone else. "You never knew protection yourself," you murmur your thoughts out loud before you can stop to wonder if it's wise. "As a child and even now. No one has looked after you since your creation… no wonder you're so curious about being human." Seungcheol shrugs half-heartedly. "I did not need it." "Maybe not. But you deserved it." He looks down at where you're leaning on the railing and you stand straight to meet his stare. He holds it for a moment, the gold in his eye swirling like a storm of its own, before his gaze sweeps over the entirety of your face slowly. It lands on your mouth. Your own eyes naturally fall to his lips too, so pink and so plump, you're not sure if the feeling in the pit of your stomach is desire or jealousy. "What makes you say that?" he asks, voice barely a whisper but still powerful enough to make your knees tremble. Your eyes flick back up to meet his again. You lick your suddenly very dry lips, and the movement makes his eyes travel back down briefly.

"I don't know," you say, voice wavering as he steps closer. Your mind becomes increasingly muddled, so you pluck the last coherent thought you have from it—his own words. "I just think you're something worth protecting too." He stops mid-step, and his posture relaxes before you, even that stony expression he constantly wears melting into something undeniably softer. He blinks a few times before he hums and nods. "That is… very kind," he says, clearly unsure of what he should say. You're at a loss, yourself, so instead of finding a smooth way to transition the conversation, you let the silence sit, turning your body away from him and toward the railing once more. You tilt your head up at the sky, trying to slow your heart rate and ignore the way he openly stares at you. Finally, after some time, he turns away too, eyes back on the big mass of blackness. It's a familiar picture: the two of you standing side-by-side, watching the sky and waiting for whatever comes next. You yawn, leaning forward and resting your forearms on the rail of the balcony.

"You should rest. It was a long journey for you." You peer over your shoulder at him. "I'm not tired," you protest. You definitely are; your fear of the sky will keep you up anyway, though. "No use in lying, mortal." You roll your eyes but don't bother arguing. Instead, you ask, "If this isn't Set, do you have any ideas who it could be?" Seungcheol crosses his arms over his broad chest, his biceps bulging against the linen of his top. It distracts you enough that you miss the first few words of his answer. "So we will have to check with Ra," is what he's saying when you tune back in. "I am not sure where he is these days, but he might have a better idea." "Who's Ra?" "He is the creator of the universe. He is the sun god." You narrow your eyes at where the sun should be. "Wait, you have a sun god and you didn't think to go to him immediately upon landing here?" Seungcheol gives you a flat look. "As I said, I do not know where he is." "Clearly," you say, hand gesturing at where the sun isn't.

He snorts. "He is not the actual sun." Your mouth makes a small o. "But he does command it. If it continues to stay hidden for long, I do not doubt he will be here himself soon." He mutters the next sentence, making it clear it's a complaint. "And he will be wondering why I have not dispelled the darkness yet." You smile. "Wow. Even gods are beholden to their bosses, huh?" He squints at you but says nothing, prompting your smile to grow wider. "Oh, he's actually your boss," you confirm, laughing. "He is not my boss. He is… he is…" he shrugs helplessly. "It's okay, he's your boss," you inform him, shaking your head and laughing. "Don't worry. Everyone has one. And speaking of them, mine will be expecting a SITREP from me soon." His frown becomes icy at the statement. "So if there's nothing we can do immediately, I'm going to get that done to send to Joshua." You turn to walk back into the hotel room that both Jeonghan and Joshua thought would be hilarious to make you share with Seungcheol. The god scoffs and you turn over your shoulder to find him giving you a sharp enough look that you stop in your tracks and raise an eyebrow. "What?" He walks in with you, stopping when he's toe-to-toe with you and forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him. "You are my consort." It catches you by surprise, mostly because you haven't found the courage to talk about it, but you do not need to be reminded that you're his consort.

In fact, it's all you've been able to think of since the four of you were gathered in Joshua's office. All throughout your briefing meeting with the UNOCHA and WMO team members accompanying you on the trip, you thought about the way you went from being dreadfully single to a wife in the span of a minute. While packing your go bag, you wondered if you knew it would result in marriage, if you would have still brought Seungcheol to KBBQ. As you boarded the jet, Seungcheol's hand hovering over the small of your back to ensure you didn't trip, you relentlessly thought about the fact that the god had to have had a moment where he stopped and thought, Yes. I would like to make this specific mortal my wife. And through all of that, you also had to process the fact that you didn't even hate the idea. All of what you knew about Seungcheol you learned about at dinner; it isn't inaccurate to say you hardly know him at all. He also decided this without your input (and no, you don't count meat and beer as proper input). You never went on a date—though maybe Jeonghan is right; maybe KBBQ was a date, unbeknownst to you. Either way, everything tells you that you should hate this. You really don't, and it baffles you to no end. You don't need a reminder of any of it. "I told you if you were serious about worshiping me, I would not accept other men in your life."

You scoff. "Okay, first of all, I highly respect you and am in awe of you, but I don't worship anyone, least of all, a man." Seungcheol mirrors your offense on his own face. "Second of all, you did not say you would not accept men." "Yes, I did." "No, you said you would not accept bosses." He opens his mouth to argue some more but pauses, frowning when he realizes you're right. "Exactly," you say. "And like I said before, I am the boss, whether or not Joshua actually knows that." "Hm." You smirk when he has nothing to say to that. It falls right off your face when he adds, "Well, you must worship me." "Oh, please, you're grasping at straws." "What?" "Nothing." He glares at you, always annoyed when you'd rather say "nothing" than explain something to him. "Fine, I'll entertain this. Why do I need to worship you?" "You are my consort." "Once again," you sigh, taking a seat on the king-sized bed and crossing your leg over your knee, "I must point out that repeating something does not make someone understand your point any better, sweet Cheollie." You meant the pet name to be sarcastic, if not a little mocking, but the way the god's skin turns a bright pink delights you. "A high priestess worships her deity. Why else would you offer me so much meat and beer?"

You nod. "Okay, yes. We should talk about this." You pat the space on the bed next to you. Seungcheol looks at it blankly. "Sit, Seungcheol." He huffs at your bossiness but obeys all the same. "We are already talking." "Yes, but… there has been a misunderstanding." "What do you mean?" You sigh again. "Seungcheol, I took you to Korean barbecue because I wanted to get to know you. And befriend you." "Be… friend me." "Yes, befriend you," you repeat, nodding. He watches you so carefully, it endears you how hard he's trying to follow along. "You're my friend. I want to get to know you. And to get to know each other, humans tend to go out and eat together. So I bought you lots of meat and beer because I wanted you to feel appreciated and have a good time."

Seungcheol nods slowly. "I felt very appreciated." "Right, and I'm glad, but… it wasn't an offering." "Yes, it was." "No, it wasn't," you say, wincing a little. "It was a friendly gesture, and it's not your fault you interpreted it the way you did because you woke up so recently—how would you even know the difference between breaking bread and an official offering? In fact, it's probably my fault since I never bothered to learn more about you and your world before that day." Maybe you wouldn't have brought him to the restaurant. Maybe you still would have. Regardless, you regret that neither of you were equipped with the proper information going into your "morale-building" night. "So… what does a friendly gesture mean to you mortals?" You bite your lip, a little confounded by the question. In general, you know what you should say. But personally, with Seungcheol specifically, you think your answer is a little different. A friendly gesture for the god feels a little different than one for Joshua or Chan would. "Um… it means… I want to be your friend?" you say pathetically.

He looks unimpressed. "And that is all? You only want to be my friend? You do not want to be a high priestess? Or a consort? My consort?" "I didn't say that," you deny, shaking your head a little too fast. "But that is also moving very fast for humans." Seungcheol hums, frowning a little as he follows along. "And when does one take a wife for humans?" "Well, we don't take wives so please stop saying that," you say, chuckling lightly. "It just depends. Some wait a few months, others several years." He scoffs so loudly, you flinch. "Years?" he repeats. You think it's the most passionate he's been about something since you've met him. "Humans hardly waited a fortnight the last time I was awake." You nod. "Right, but their lifespans were also so much shorter then, y'know? Now, we take our time to make sure the match is right and that we like each other and that… I don't know, that we can agree on how to split the chores." How can you describe a relationship to a god as someone who hasn't had one in years? "I like you. I do not need years to know it."

You raise your eyebrows, trying not to fidget under his steady gaze. "Uh, well… okay. What do you like about me? Maybe it's something you'd just like in a friend rather than a wife?" His readiness to answer the question catches you off guard. "I like that you have many questions. It is clear you are very interested in the lives of others around you. You try hard to understand them." You make a noise of disbelief. "You constantly complain that I have too many questions." "Yes, because you seem to like teasing and being teased." You frown. "Wh…" If you take even a second to stop and think of Seungcheol's time with you at the UN, you can clearly see why he would come to this conclusion. There isn't a day that goes by that you don't make fun of Joshua and Chan or Jeonghan doesn't stop by to rib you a little. You realize the god has picked up a lot more than you've given him credit for. "Oh," you say dumbly. "You just sound so serious when you tease… I thought I was annoying you." He shakes his head before pausing to think about it. "Well, maybe at first." You grin, thinking about the way you accosted him in Singapore. "I have grown fond of it. I am also fond of how honest you are. And how determined you are to help your people." He purses his lips together and stares at you hard. "Maybe that, best of all—you are good."

You tear your gaze away from his, breathing evenly through your nose. "Those are all things friends can like about each other, Seungcheol," you tell him. "It doesn't necessarily mean we should get married." "Well, we are married." You look back to glare at him. "That's another thing, humans decide together that they are married. In fact, they have a period of engagement before they get married. And before that, they date. None of which—let me remind you—we have done!" He looks at you with a level of incredulousness that would make you laugh if you didn't have a god that thought he was married to you. "What is dating?" He says the word with extreme distaste. "I suppose they would've called it courtship the last time you were awake," you answer, shrugging. "You go and spend time together and make your intentions clear to each other." "Ah." The muscle in his jaw twitches when he clenches for a moment. "Courtship. I understand." You nod, letting the silence sit as he very obviously mulls the idea over. After a few moments, your curiosity gets the best of you and you ask, "Have you ever courted anyone? Or gotten married?" His eyes flick up to you from where he had been zoning out, the gold a duller shade without the light of the sun to catch in it. He slowly shakes his head. "I have not. Regardless, I am confident I would be more than acceptable at it." You bite down a laugh because you know he's being 100% serious. "I have no doubts." "Good. I value your faith in me." He stands then, nodding definitively like he's come to a decision. Instead of sharing his thoughts with you, though, he promptly leaves the room without another word. "Okay?" you murmur to yourself as you stand to get your laptop and start your SITREP. "Good talk?"

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS MISSION ID: UNOCHA/APAC/0808-IN LOCATION: Republic of India LEAD OFFICER: Y/N L/N, Senior Disaster Assessment & Coordination Officer SITREP NO.: 7 DATE ISSUED: 27 April 2026 TIME PERIOD COVERED IN SITREP: 06:00-18:00 SITUATION TO DATE: The haze is still present, the sun is still lost, and we still don't know why. Lead Officer L/N refuses to submit further reports regarding the haze until it does something new, claiming that writing the same report repeatedly is "starting to feel like a hostage situation." Responsibility for SITREP preparation has temporarily been delegated to the undersigned. Unfortunately. ACTIONS TO DATE:

Checked haze

Confirmed haze still present

Checked haze again after lunch

Confirmed haze remained committed to the bit

Attended briefing with WMO

Learned nothing

Updated spreadsheets

Learned more nothing

ACTIONS TO BE COMPLETED:

Wait for something to happen

Continue monitoring atmospheric conditions

Continue coordination efforts

Continue pretending there is enough new information to justify six-hour reporting intervals

Continue trying to determine whether Consultant Choi is flirting or conducting some kind of ancient ritual

ISSUES:

No significant environmental changes have occurred

At approximately 0600 hours, Consultant Choi was observed accepting breakfast from room service. At approximately 0605 hours, he was observed leaving the room, claiming that the first breakfast was insufficient. At 0630 hours, he was seen in the cafeteria, eating several meals worth of food.

At approximately 0730 hours, Consultant Choi presented Lead Officer L/N with a small carved wooden bird. When asked where it came from, he stated, "I made it." No further explanation was provided. Lead Officer L/N has carried it for the remainder of the day.

Consultant Choi has developed a habit of bringing Lead Officer L/N things he believes she might like. Items observed during this reporting period include: tea, a flower, an unusually smooth rock, a second flower because the first one wilted. The purpose of these gifts remains unclear.

During a team lunch, Consultant Choi stood up when Lead Officer L/N left the table and remained standing until she returned. Three personnel assumed there was an emergency. There was not.

At approximately 1340 hours, Researcher Boo asked Consultant Choi whether he and Lead Officer L/N were dating. Consultant Choi scoffed and informed him, "I am courting her." Follow-up questioning produced no additional clarity.

Consultant Choi continues to refer to Lead Officer L/N using titles no one else understands, the most concerning being: "future mother of falcons." This resulted in a 30-second silence during which nobody knew how to proceed.

Team members remain uncertain whether Consultant Choi understands modern courtship customs. Evidence increasingly suggests he does not. The team has begun placing informal bets regarding whether the two of them are: ⬜️ Friends ⬜️ Dating ⬜️ Cursed ☑️ Unknown

Consultant Choi appears capable of locating Lead Officer L/N anywhere within a five-kilometer radius. Testing was not authorized. Results have nonetheless been consistent.

At approximately 1712 hours, Lead Officer L/N smiled at Consultant Choi. Consultant Choi immediately stopped paying attention to the ongoing briefing. This lasted long enough for three people to notice. Neither apologized for the interruption.

ADDITIONAL NOTES: My personal wellness update:

Overall team morale: Moderate-to-low. The only thing keeping these people afloat is the betting pool.

Lead Officer L/N: Appears happy when not looking at the sky, at which she seems to be on the verge of a panic attack when she does.

Consultant Choi: Appears increasingly troubled by the idea that this is not Set. Will not clarify. Only Officer L/N's presence puts him at ease. All of us steer clear otherwise.

Officer Lee: I want to GO HOME! PLEASE! I MISS THE SUN!

PREPARED BY: Chan Lee, Research Officer REVIEWED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section [REVIEWER COMMENT] Lee, the purpose of a SITREP is to provide OPERATIONAL updates. Stop using official documents to keep track of your supervisor's love life. Please revise before submission. Also, who started the betting pool? Please have them call me immediately. - J. Hong [REVIEWER COMMENT] Leave it, I want to see where this goes. Did you send Hong the betting info? I want it too. Placing big bucks that they come back dating! - J. Yoon

"Seungcheol?" you call, smiling as you exit the copy of Chan's SITREP Joshua just pinged you with several expletives. Chan is not your favorite direct report for nothing; he sows just as much chaos as you do, and you love it. Maybe you have more in common with Set than you gave him credit for. You slide your laptop off your lap and slip out of bed, exiting the bedroom of your shared suite as the knocking on the door continues. "Did you order room service again?" you ask, not that you're opposed. You're just not looking forward to another back-and-forth with Jeonghan trying to explain why Seungcheol's black hole of an appetite is the UN's responsibility. "No," he calls from where he discovered what bubble baths were yesterday. He's on his third one in under 24 hours. "Unless you're offering!" You roll your eyes but smile at the suggestion. Since your conversation on your first day in India, the god has been showering you in gifts and making surprisingly funny jokes about you taking him to barbecue and giving him "another" offering to make the marriage official. You've done no such thing, but you do continue to accept his gifts, a row of them perched in front of the television in the living room: a hand-carved wooden bird—much like the tiny ones that follow you around now—several different rocks, two Chocopies, a bracelet, and two flowers that have since wilted and disappeared from the shelf to be pressed between the pages of your journal. "I'm not!" you sing-song as you reach the door. "Shame," you hear him mutter.

You peek into the eyehole to find a man who looks to be around your age that you've never seen before. He stands casually, one forearm resting on the frame with his forehead resting on that same forearm like he's tired of knocking. He's not a UN team member and he isn't dressed in the hotel's uniform either, and as far as you know, he's not a guest you've seen around. You frown. "Hi. How can I help you?" "Hey," he says, voice muffled through the door. "I'm here to see a friend." You lean away from the door to look over your shoulder. From the way you can hear Seungcheol softly humming along to your playlist of songs he has decided he likes, you know he isn't expecting a "friend." You press your eye back to the peephole. "Who?" He clears his throat uncomfortably, lifting his forehead off his forearm and rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. "See, I haven't seen him in a while, so… I don't actually know what name he goes by these days." Your brows rise almost high enough to touch your hairline. It wouldn't make sense if you weren't with a god who took the name of whatever vessel he chose to be in. But you are, and this person seems to know that. "Why don't you give me the name you do know him by?"

"Hey, who are you talking to?" Seungcheol calls out to you from the restroom. You ignore him. "Or…" the stranger starts, his lazy smile growing tight. "Why don't you open the door because every moment you keep it closed is just me showing off my level of restraint?" "Um, hey!" you call, not wanting to reveal your pseudo roommate's name. "Can you please come here for a second?" "Smart girl." The man at the door smirks, eyes going to the peephole and winking. Seungcheol must sense the discomfort in your voice because you hear immediate sloshing in the tub, a curse as he seems to slip, and thunderous footsteps as he quickly makes his way to you, a hotel towel hanging low on his hips. He's still soaking wet, save for his hair, which is gathered up into a small, messy ponytail atop his head like a sprout. Your eyes bulge at him, mind going a million miles an hour as you process that his fist is most likely the only thing keeping his towel from completely falling to the floor. You've seen practically all of this; Seungcheol's linens didn't leave much to the imagination. When he wasn't looking, you definitely were—all the hard lines, divots, ink, spaces you thought could be soft enough to cuddle up to. What you're seeing now isn't really new. Seeing it so up close and without a flimsy piece of fabric in the way still makes your brain short wire anyway. You're suddenly incapable of forming words, your skin aflame as you step aside and nod at the door. He hesitates, looking at you questioningly before he peeks through the hole. As if the stranger senses him watching, he speaks.

"Horus," he calls tauntingly. Your eyes widen, and you immediately disappear into the room and come back out with the small, folded umbrella you always pack. You know if it's a god—and if he knows Seungcheol by name, it most likely is—your umbrella won't fare well. Still, it comforts you to have some semblance of a weapon in your hand. It does comfort you even more, though, when Seungcheol's sun-soaked spear manifests in the hand not currently holding his towel up. "Open up," the stranger says in a tired sigh. "I've traveled quite a ways to be here. The least you can do is invite me in." Seungcheol's jaw clenches hard enough that you hear his teeth grind together. His fingers clasp the spear tighter, and you somehow know immediately that this has to be Set. You suddenly feel more afraid than you have in the last few weeks. Instinctively, you step closer to the god, hand going to his forearm and gripping him in a weak attempt to feel grounded. He looks back down at you, and upon meeting your gaze, his expression softens. He shakes his head slowly and lends you a small smile—something he's been affording more of for you lately.

"I will not let anything happen to you," he whispers so quietly, he might as well be mouthing the words. "Go to the bedroom." You shake your head vehemently. "No." He immediately sighs. "You can't make me." "I'm growing tired of this, nephew." You bite your lip and bounce a little, making a humiliating and anxious squeak as you do. "Is that Set?" "Ah, you've talked about me then," the stranger laughs. "I can assure you, mortal, that whatever was said about me was… well, probably incredibly accurate, actually. But! I'm a changed man. Promise." The amused lilt in his voice is anything but promising. "Do not speak to her," Seungcheol all but growls. He lets go of his towel briefly to take your hand in his, and you squeak again when the fabric loosens around his waist even more. You see the beginnings of the hair that leads to places you've admittedly feverishly dreamt about in your sleep, waking you up often enough that Seungcheol has asked if you were having nightmares. You had no idea how to explain to a god what wet dreams were, let alone explain that he was the center of yours. You avert your eyes quickly, though Seungcheol doesn't give you much of a chance to ogle him anyway.

The god leads you away from the door, to the corner of the room. He grabs your umbrella easily, making you gasp in both offense and surprise. He tosses it away from you, replacing it with the spear in his other hand. He lays it carefully in both your hands, gently closing your fingertips around the weapon. You swear it glows a little brighter, the metal warm and comforting against your skin. When he's sure you have a handle on the spear, he nods and turns away from you, wasting not even a moment as he finally opens the door and plants a hand on the frame to block the way. The stranger stands there, about the same height as Seungcheol, looking as normal as anyone else you've come across. He doesn't wear the linens Seungcheol does or sport the intricate tattoos he does or even speak the same way he does. He's in medium wash jeans, a white tee, and sneakers, and his posture likens him more to a teenager than a god in your opinion. But then his eyes scan Seungcheol's state of nudity then flicks to you and meets your gaze, and you feel the ancient divinity he carries in his vessel. His body may pass as human, but his eyes give him away. You see centuries of wisdom and violence and life buried just underneath the surface, like he doesn't care to hide them just for the sake of your comfort. You only realize now Seungcheol might have been doing exactly that this entire time. "Wow," he whistles, smirking as he lets himself into the room, swatting away the arm that Seungcheol is using to block him. "You two are… comfortable. Did I interrupt something?" "Do not look at her," Seungcheol says, his voice a low and rumbling warning. He steps between you and his uncle. "You do not look at her, talk to her, or breathe near her. Whatever business you have is with me." You can't see Set anymore, but you imagine he's still smirking when you hear his snort of amusement. "Sure thing, nephew. No prob." He kicks the door closed behind him, making his way to the couch and plopping down easily. You keep the spear mostly parallel with your body, though you situate the point in his direction. "What should I call you in this new vessel of yours? Great choice, by the way. Real… beefy. And greatly endowed if that shape in your towel is anything to go by." He grins. "Is that a rubber ducky in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" Seungcheol's face cycles through several confused expressions, confirming for you that Set has been awake far longer than he has. In fact, if Set is so attuned to human slang, he may not have ever gone to sleep at all. And if he hadn't gone to sleep like Seungcheol had assumed, that means the arrival of the storms weren't a signal of him waking up. The haze isn't Set's doing at all. "What are you saying? I have no pockets. I am nude." Set's mouth makes a small o before a boisterous laugh escapes it, his mouth forming a wide heart shape. "Oh dear god, you've only just woken up, haven't you?" he asks, throwing an arm across the back of the couch and bringing his ankle up to rest on his knee. "How long ago did you wake up? A decade?" Seungcheol purses his lips. "Shorter? Five years?" When he gets no response, he raises an eyebrow at him. "Shorter…?" "It is none of your business," Seungcheol says in a clipped voice. Set frowns. "Have you not risen at all since you crawled into bed like a child in need of a nap after humiliating me in front of the council and the entire world?" he asks, scoffing. The words should be biting but he says them so casually, you'd think it's a story he only heard about and wasn't the center of—the cause of. Seungcheol's silence is enough confirmation for him. "Holy shit, Horus!" he gawks at him. "You've been sleeping for four thousand years?!"

You gasp at that. "Four thousand?! You said one!" Set's eyes go to you, but Seungcheol steps between the two of you once more. "I said I believed it was one thousand," he grumbles. "I was not sure." "Well, it was four," Set corrects him. "Lazy ass." "Why are you here?" he asks, aggravated. "Oh, me? I'm doing well! Been traveling the world and really finding myself for most of the last four millennia, thanks for asking," he says. "How are you?" The sarcasm is lost on Seungcheol, who says, "I do not care and I did not ask. Why are you here? I assume you have been awake this entire time, so you cannot be the cause behind these events?" He comes to the same conclusion you did. "Well, I haven't been awake the entire time," he drawls, crossing his arms and throwing his head back to rest against the couch. "I did take a little cat nap after our… skirmish. And a few more throughout the years. Nowhere near four thousand, though. I've only recently just woken up from my latest one, actually." He sighs, smiling wistfully. "Imagine my surprise when I see the news and find someone wreaking more havoc than me." He answers Seungcheol in a more straightforward manner: "No. I am not behind whatever that is." He gestures vaguely toward the window.

"If not you…" you mutter, stepping around Seungcheol and suddenly more curious than afraid. "Then, who?" "Am I allowed to answer the mortal or should I act like I didn't hear anything, Horus?" he asks him pettily. Seungcheol clenches his jaw again, and you can see why these two fought as hard as they did. Beyond all the murder, Set seems to know exactly which buttons to push to get a rise out of him. "Speak when spoken to," he orders through gritted teeth. "Otherwise, you have nothing to do with her." Your cheeks warm, but Set shrugs, accepting the terms easily. He brings his head up off the couch and nods at you. "My question exactly, mortal. I'm sorry, what is your name?" Seungcheol opens his mouth to protest but you give the god your first name before he can. "Cool. You can call me Vernon." He nods at Seungcheol. "Same goes for you, if you ever decide you want to share your vessel's name with me, little HorHor." "Do not call me that." He completely ignores him and addresses you again. "I heard rumors of a man who stopped a tsunami. Can you believe that?" he asks dramatically. "A tsunami! Then, I heard that the sun just magically disappeared from the skies in India. And while little HorHor here was busy presumably staring at the sky as I know he is wont to do—" "I hate you."

"—I took it upon myself to poke my nose around here. Looks like the sun is weakening in a lot of places. Did your fancy computers pick that up?" You frown. "No… they didn't." Wonwoo is going to hear it from you. "What do you mean 'weakening'?" "I mean," Vernon starts, straightening up and planting both feet on the ground before leaning his elbows on his knees and leveling you with a serious look, "from here on, the sunlight is weakening. Just past India, the sun rises and sets but the light wouldn't give your retinas so much as a tan, even if you stared at it straight on with your weak, little eyeballs." You scoff, weirdly offended by the comment. "Then why is the sun gone here?" Seungcheol asks, frowning. Vernon shrugs. "When I ran out of leads, I came here knowing I'd find you staring at the stupid sky. Guess I was half wrong because I found you cozied up with a human, fresh out of a bubble bath." Your cheeks are on fire as you spit out all kinds of protests, denying you were ever in a bubble bath with Seungcheol, who seems content with letting Vernon think whatever he wants to think. "That is not important," he says, waving a hand casually even as his lips fight to keep a smirk off his face. "Y/N is part of the UN and is helping locals prepare for whatever disaster is imminent."

"Quick, what does UN stand for?" Vernon shoots at Seungcheol, who buffers like a computer. He snorts. "United Nations," you whisper, nodding when he thanks you. "United—" "Yeah, yeah. Whatever, cheater," Vernon waves a hand and rolls his eyes. "Cheating really is in your nature, huh?" Seungcheol's expression becomes dark—lethal, actually. In one moment, the spear is in your hand and the next, it's materializing in his own grip, the tip pointed at the base of Vernon's neck. His eyes travel down to it but he makes no sign that he's scared.

"Are you suggesting I won our battle because I cheated?" Vernon smiles. "Hm. Maybe a few decades ago, I would have. But I've done a lot of soul-searching, HorHor." Seungcheol's neck turns red, a vein popping out as he swallows back whatever insults he has for Vernon. You think it's bold to goad the man who has a spear pointed at him like this. "I've long moved past our complicated history. You'll be happy to hear I'm over my fear of hippos and lettuce, as well as my resentment of you." You look between the two. "What?" Vernon's eyes slide to you and he smirks. "Not familiar with Egyptian mythology, are you?" Your brows rise. "Egyptian?" He laughs. "Oh, humans are so funny. You're telling me you not only have the power of Google but the UN and you didn't bother looking anything up about this guy?" he asks, looking at his nephew. He frowns and instead of letting you answer, he nods. "Hey, what the fuck is your name anyway?"

Seungcheol sighs heavily, letting his spear dissolve into specks of light once more. "Choi Seungcheol." "Oooh," Vernon nods, repeating the name several times like he's testing it out. "I like that. Sounds like someone who's well-endowed." You clear your throat and avert your eyes from Seungcheol's general vicinity. Vernon raises his eyebrows at the towel. "Feel free to go get dressed by the way. I'll behave around the lady." Seungcheol scoffs. "I am not going anywhere as long as you are here, lest I gain another person I will be forced to avenge." You take the smallest step back once more. "So drama," Vernon blows a raspberry and slouches. "Well, I'll be here for a while. I don't know if you've noticed but we're the only two who can figure out what the fuck is happening here." "I was planning on finding Ra after Y/N returned home." That's news to you, and you know Seungcheol deliberately kept it from you when he won't meet your eyes. "Been there, done that," Vernon says. "Can't find the guy." "What do you mean you cannot find him?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean? Exactly that: I can't find him. I've scoured the skies, I've visited the council, I've looked for that gaudy boat of his. Hell, I've even gone to his altars and prayed. Can you believe that? I fucking prayed. I cannot find him." You don't think you've ever seen Seungcheol as worried as he is now since you've met him. He opens and closes his mouth several times before he decidedly clamps it shut, his eyes going to the window and back out at the sky. As mean-spirited as it was, Vernon isn't wrong about Seungcheol's habit of staring at the sky. It's like the god found all his answers in it—or maybe it was comfort. Whatever it was, ever since it darkened, he hasn't been able to get what he needs from it, and you can tell from the way he rips his gaze away and scowls at the wall. "If Ra is gone…" he murmurs. Vernon nods regretfully, a little too comfortable as he slouches against the sofa and sighs like this is just a minor inconvenience. "Then the universe is in peril." He nods more as he seems to zone out. After a brief moment, he snaps out of it and shrugs. "It can't be that bad, though, right? The sun is still making its journey… it's just having a bit of a weird time and needs some help." He grins at Seungcheol. "Which is why I came here. My brilliant nephew who can do no wrong and knows everything ever must have a plan to put an end to all the bad stuff in the universe, no?" You glower at him. "I don't like your tone, Vernon." His eyebrows rise slowly at your interjection. "Oof, brave human, hm?" Seungcheol takes the comment as a threat, immediately stepping forward. "Oh relax, I'm not going to do anything," Vernon scoffs.

"Yeah, and I doubt you could with Seungcheol here anyway," you scoff right back, earning you a look of pride from the god. You ignore it for the sake of not losing your train of thought. "If you have nothing to contribute other than thinly veiled insults and petty reminders that you and your fragile ego got beat within an inch of your life four thousand years ago, I don't think your presence is really needed here. I think Seungcheol and I have it handled." You look to him now, badly shaken by how fond he looks as he stares at you. "Right?" He smirks and nods once before turning back to Vernon. "The lady's word is law." "Law?" he repeats. "What is she, your consort?" he snorts. Seungcheol opens his mouth—no doubt to confirm his belief that you are—but his uncle, thankfully, keeps running his mouth. "Whatever, if I'm going to crash here, I guess I will follow the law." "If you're going to what?" you ask, blinking rapidly, right as Seungcheol says, "What is going to crash?" Vernon shrugs, clearly more than happy to ignore the both of you. He straightens his posture and nods. "I may have overstated my progress in therapy and may harbor some resentment over the lettuce." Seungcheol winces, but neither man allows you any time to ask for clarification. "I… apologize, Horus." Both you and Seungcheol startle at the sudden apology. You've only known Set for a handful of minutes, and still, you can glean how monumental it is for him to say sorry.

He sighs like this is the hardest thing he's ever had to do. "I apologize both for my pettiness and my 'thinly veiled insults' and for… Osiris." To his credit, he sounds genuine. "I've had thousands of years to think about everything. All I've concluded is that…" He shrugs, too casual for how devastating his next words are. "I miss my brother more than I crave power." Your mouth falls open slightly. You don't think you can wrap your mind around four thousand years of loneliness. At least Seungcheol was asleep during that time. To walk the world immortal, with nothing but time to think about all the mistakes you've ever made… it sounds like torture. You think it's enough of a punishment in itself. But forgiveness is not yours to give. You look to Seungcheol, surprised to find his gaze already on you. You can't decipher what the expression on his face is—a complex mixture of haunted and tormented and relieved. He nods once and turns back to Vernon. "I forgive you," he says resolutely. "If not for you, then for myself." He glances at you once more and when you smile at him—a silent reminder of how proud you are of him—for the first time, he returns it. Not a small quirk of the lips or a smirk or a snort. No. It's a wide and bright smile that punctures the cutest, most endearing dimples into his cheeks. It melts every last bit of you until you have to fall into the armchair across from Vernon to keep from collapsing. "Holy shit. Are you… in love?"

To: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: Request: Research Egyptian mythology Anything you can find on Horus, Set, and Osiris—especially if it involves lettuce or hippos. And I guess anything else you might find pertinent to someone who may or may not have a crush on a god. Thanks. To: You <[email protected]@unocha> From: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> Subject: RE: Request: Research Egyptian mythology ATTACHMENTS: egyptian mythology for dummies.pdf Hey boss, here's the research you requested, with an emphasis on certain individuals who may or may not be greatly impacting this team's workload. Let me know if you need anything else! Like someone to book our flight tickets home, perhaps? Happy to do whatever!!! 📎 egyptian mythology for dummies.pdf Egyptian Mythology for Dummies* * a.k.a. people with crushes on consultants who also happen to be gods?

Horus Horus's domains include the sky, kingship (the pharaohs), protection, falcons, and being right about everything. He is the son of Osiris and Isis (who were brother and sister…). He is frequently depicted as a man with a falcon head, and is associated with the sun, moon, order, and justice. Common mythological activities include fighting Set, arguing with Set, competing with Set, trying to kill Set, and winning brawls with Set through increasingly questionable and unconventional means. He's generally considered one of the good guys and is historically noted as devoted, loyal, stubborn, and headstrong. It seems to me that these traits remain very much intact.

Set Set is the god of storms, deserts, violence, and chaos/disorder (Horus's natural antithesis). He was the brother of Osiris (whom he murdered…) and of course, the uncle of Horus. He also married his sister—not Isis. His other sister. I attempted a family tree but it was weird and I decided against including it here. Anyway, I'd say thanks to his poor interpersonal skills, this guy is responsible for 90% of all documented family problems. I mean. He murdered his brother and then gouged his nephew's eyeball out (later returned to Horus thanks to the god Thoth). Not really a team player. Black sheep of the family actually, if you ask me.

Osiris God of death, rebirth, and agriculture (one of these is not like the others). He was famously murdered and dismembered by his brother, Set. His wife/sister, Isis, searched the world for all of his parts and brought him to Anubis and Nephthys, who helped put him back together. And voila, first mummy ever is born. Or not born. Resurrected. He became ruler of the Underworld. Through means that are not agreed upon or are not workplace appropriate, Isis created Horus to avenge Osiris. Hence everything else stated above.

The Lettuce and Hippo Things In their quest to win the throne that Osiris's death left unclaimed, Horus and Set partook in many competitions. Some of them were normal. Most of them were not. The lettuce thing is one of the more famous episodes of the Horus-Set conflict. The short version is that Horus successfully tricked Set using lettuce. The long version is not suitable for workplace correspondence, and I recommend you Google it on a personal device. As for the hippos, one account of the conflict describes both gods transforming into hippos and engaging in an underwater contest to determine who should rule Egypt. Several versions exist. All agree this was somehow considered a reasonable solution???

Miscellaneous Information I have no idea what mythological information would be considered pertinent to someone with a crush on a god, so I just included random things. If you need more, let me know and I will add as needed (though a quick meeting to understand what you're looking for would be helpful).

Ancient Egyptians impressively were able to explain nearly every aspect of the world through mythology. The flooding of the Nile was thought to be Isis weeping for her murdered husband. The stars were believed to travel across the goddess Nut's back, enter her mouth at sunset, and travel through her body at night (moving across the sky). What do you think stars taste like? Candy maybe?

Tons of myths talk about the journey of the sun, which was considered very important. Apparently, failure of the sun to travel across the sky would result in catastrophic consequences, so several gods were involved in protecting it along the way.

The seasons are heavily tied to the myth of Osiris's death. Akhet (July to October) is the flood of Isis's tears and the resurrection of Osiris, both giving fertility to the land. Peret (November to March) is when the floodwaters recede and the land is ready for planting. Shemu (April to July) is harvesting season, when the scorching heat of the sun god Ra is strongest, ensuring ripe crops before the cycle restarted.

Ancient Egyptian temples employed sacred geese! Consultant Choi spent 15 minutes explaining why this was entire reasonable and I agree with him. I think the UN should have geese too.

To: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Request: Research Egyptian mythology What would the gods need to protect the sun from? To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> Subject: RE: Request: Research Egyptian mythology Mainly Apep (a.k.a. Apophis), the god of darkness and destruction. He's a giant snake who lives in the waters of the Underworld and keeps trying to eat the sun overnight when Ra is passing by with it on his little boat (I imagine the sun tastes like hot wings instead of candy but let me know if you disagree). During eclipses, Egyptians believed it meant the snake was succeeding in attacking the sun. Should I call an emergency meeting… To: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Request: Research Egyptian mythology Yes. Only Wonwoo and the Js. Meet me at the nerd cave in 10. To: C. Lee <chan.lee@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Request: Research Egyptian mythology Oh and btw agree on the stars. They'd prob explode in your mouth like pop rocks. Idk about the sun and hot wings though… if we're sticking to candy, maybe sour chews in chamoy and tajín?

It's just a little before midnight when you enter the hotel's multi-purpose room, where Wonwoo and his team set up their center of operations, with both Seungcheol and a very sleepy Vernon in tow. If you're being honest with yourself, you're glad for an excuse to get out of your hotel room. After Vernon's wildly invasive question, he and Seungcheol broke into an argument that resulted in several summoned (but ultimately unused) weapons and an endless string of insults, curses, and mockery. Fortunately, the commotion gave you a chance to sneak back into the bedroom to read all about the myths that you failed to realize were based on Seungcheol's life. And maybe agonize over why Vernon would ever even ask if the two of you were in love. He didn't even know that you two were kind-of-but-not-really-married, and already, he was somehow arriving at crazy conclusions. Of course neither of you are in love. If you were, you wouldn't have bothered to try and slow down the whole marriage ordeal. You would have accepted the odd and unconventional proposal, maybe demanded a barbecue feast of your own, and lived happily ever after with the sexy god of the sky. But no. Instead, you're forcing him to woo you with handmade gifts and random trinkets that remind him of you so that you can lock yourself in the bedroom and kick your feet and giggle. Because you are not in love.

But after you open your journal to take notes on the YouTube video you pull up about Egyptian mythology and you find your pressed flowers from Seungcheol, you think maybe you're trying to be. Maybe you like how you feel around Seungcheol. Maybe you like getting to know him. Maybe he understands you better than a lot of people do despite not understanding a lot of things at all. Maybe you would want to answer Vernon's question with a yes. You didn't get much space to ponder those things, though. Chan's email revelation couldn't have come at a better time: near midnight, when Vernon had finally fallen asleep to the very soothing lullaby of Seungcheol's yelling, and the latter retreated into the room with you, determined to avoid meeting your eyes as he sat himself at the window and glared at the unchanging darkness. With the god suddenly in the room, it felt impossible to think, breathe, or even just watch your dumb YouTube video. Chan's research was your saving grace. "Hey," you call to your direct report, who already has both Jeonghan and Joshua on a video call, their faces filling the big screen you and Seungcheol have been mindlessly staring at whenever you need a break from the sky. "Thanks for taking care of this." He looks over his shoulder at you and smiles, nodding. "Of course. I assume it means we can go home soon, right? I'm so vitamin D deficient, it's getting scary. Do you see how pale I am? I'm so fatigued, and I feel like my bones are turning to dust. I can only take so many supplements. I need—"

"Lee," Joshua cuts in, sighing heavily. "Please tell me why we're hopping on a call at this hour." "Yes, please tell me why you took it upon yourself to shut my game down before I could save it," Wonwoo murmurs petulantly, slouched in his seat in the corner. Seungcheol glances at him and he immediately (and pointedly) swivels his seat so that his back is facing the god. "What'd you do to him?" you hear Vernon whisper to his nephew. "Nothing, unfortunately," Seungcheol whispers back. "Yet." "Who the hell is that?" Jeonghan asks, leaning so close to his screen, all any of you can see are his two eyes and his pristine forehead. "Standing next to Choi?" "Ah, that's…" you turn back and tilt your head at him, unsure of how to explain. "That's Vernon."

"Okay?" Joshua speaks now. "And who is Vernon and why is he here?" "I don't like that one," Vernon grumbles, yawning. Seungcheol snorts. "Tell me about it." Leave it to Joshua to unite the warring gods with his uptight work persona. "Vernon is… Set." "Set…" Jeonghan repeats, frowning. Both Chan and Wonwoo flinch away from the two at the mere mention of the name. You don't blame them; after all, you have been touting the god as the big, bad enemy for the last few weeks. You wince. "Yep. Set. He, uh, arrived a few hours ago, and long story short, he's not causing the issues we're having and he's just as confused as we are and he has apologized for being a major, all-around asshole."

"Whoa," Vernon mutters. "I didn't say all that." "How about you give us the long story long version?" Joshua asks, already scrubbing his face in the way he does when you're actively shaving years off his life. "She explained it exactly as it happened, so I am not sure how she can be any clearer," Seungcheol interrupts gruffly, prompting Jeonghan to stifle a surprised snort. "Now, Y/N has expressed needing to discuss something important, and I think we should allow her the chance to tell us instead of forcing her to repeat information that is already sufficiently clear." Joshua looks affronted but his boss simply laughs aloud, clapping as he does. "Okay, okay. Welcome to the team, Vernon slash Set." "Vernon is fi—" "The team?" Joshua repeats, incredulous. "Is one god consultant not more than enough?" "Also, are we supposed to just forget about all the horrific stuff you made me look up on my work computer because you say he's a changed man?" Chan asks. "Oh relax," the god in question says, rolling his eyes. "The last thing I want to do is labor. I am not a part of your silly team. I am a crew of one." He turns to your subordinate. "And I promise you Google doesn't know the half of it. So maybe pipe down before I become an actual problem."

"Got it," Chan immediately chirps, turning to busy himself with a computer that's long been turned off. "See?" Jeonghan grins. "Vernon is only here temporarily. No need to get your panties in a twist, Shushu." Before Joshua can throw a tantrum over the nickname, Jeonghan hands the floor over to you. "Take it away, Y/N. Why are we on this video call?" "Chan found something really interesting," you say, walking to where Wonwoo is sitting. You nod at his computer. "Can you pull up the satellite images of the anomalies' paths? All three please, down to every single earthquake that led to Singapore." Wonwoo nods, leaning forward to follow directions. He minimizes the video call and brings back the weather monitor, clicking around until what you've asked for is on the screen. Once you confirm both Jeonghan and Joshua can see the images, you turn back to the WMO director. "We've learned from Vernon here that just outside of India, the sun is weakening. Can you confirm?" Wonwoo frowns at the suggestion that he's missed yet another thing, jaw clenching when he gets the appropriate confirmation that he has. A few circles pop up on the monitor. "Places where the UV index is unusually to alarmingly low," he explains. You walk up to the monitor and point at the typhoon in Korea, finger tracing from where you first saw Seungcheol, down to the first, tiny earthquake not far from the coast. From there, your finger moves back and forth to each earthquake. "These aren't random occurrences," you murmur as your finger grazes over Singapore and toward India. "Whatever is causing this is moving through the world."

"Why would it be moving back and forth like that?" Jeonghan asks, nothing but eyes and forehead again as he tracks the erratic movement of the anomalies. "It's almost like it's…" You move past India and to the surrounding countries with increasingly weakened sunlight. "Slithering," you finish his sentence. There's a sharp inhale behind you and you don't need to turn to know it's Seungcheol. "He succeeded," he breathes. "He swallowed the sun." "No," his uncle protests, suddenly very awake. His voice rises with a panicked edge you haven't heard before and honestly didn't think he was capable of. "He couldn't have swallowed the sun. It's still out there… just not here. Ra still has it with him. There's no way Apep ate the goddamn sun and we didn't hear about it." "How would we have heard about it?" Seungcheol points out. You turn to find his arms crossed over his chest as he talks at the other god with irritation you know was left over from their argument. "Ra is nowhere to be found. He is the one who would have told us!" "Sorry, uh," Jeonghan cuts in, frowning deeply. "What's going on?" "Apep!" Chan shouts a little too gleefully for the circumstances.

"He's a giant snake whose entire thing is trying to eat the sun," you add. "A snake…?" Joshua echoes, looking tired and distraught. "You're telling us… the storms are being caused… by a snake?" "Go ahead," you tell Chan when he tilts his head at you in question. He grins and nods, always loving a chance to shine. "Apep, sometimes known as Apophis—" "Apep," Vernon corrects sharply, his nervous energy manifesting in a tapping foot and nail-biting. "Apophis is the name colonizers gave him." Chan doesn't miss a beat. "Apep, never ever known as any other name—" Even in his nervousness, Vernon grins at the man. "—is a giant snake chilling in a river in the Underworld. Every night, Ra passes by with the sun on his boat for whatever reason, and every night, Apep tries to eat it." He looks to both gods for confirmation. "Good" is all Seungcheol says as his uncle nods in agreement, and that's more than enough for your direct report, who beams at the man famously known for only communicating in grunts and glares with anyone who isn't you. "Why does he want to eat the sun…?" Wonwoo asks, frowning at his screen as he pulls up more data about the UV indices in the area. "Beats me, maybe it tastes good," Chan says, shrugging as he takes a seat next to the director, clearly done with playing meeting leader.

"If Apep ever succeeds and Ra fails to rise in the new dawn," Seungcheol supplies, "the world as we know it… will come to an end." There's a heavy silence as everyone lets that information sink in. It's broken when Jeonghan inhales sharply. "Whoa, that was so cool, I just got the chills. Cinematic as hell." Joshua glares at his computer. "Can we be serious for even a second?" "I am being serious. This is the moment before the movie reaches the climax, Shushu. It's very serious." Vernon ignores the two, shaking his head and bringing one hand up to his chin. He stares hard at the floor like he might find the solution written on it. "Apep has never succeeded, but he's come kinda close a few times." "Define 'kinda close,'" Jeonghan requests. "Mmm, like, maybe 2,000-ish years ago, he got really close," the god estimates, tilting his head back and forth. Seungcheol's eyebrows rise in surprise and you suddenly remember the man was asleep for double that time. "You, mortals, call it a total solar eclipse, but it's actually a sign that Apep has intercepted Ra." "Longest total solar eclipse!" Chan pipes up from the computer he's stationed at, Googling things in real time. "June 15, 743 B.C. It lasted over seven minutes." Vernon nods. "Apep attacked Ra and succeeded in knocking him off his boat. We were able to hold him off and get away, though." "'We'?" Joshua repeats. "You were there?" Vernon fidgets as Seungcheol turns to him with a flat stare. "It is his duty to aid in Ra's protection. Which begs the question, why are you not with Ra?" He fixes him with a fierce glare. "I know you've been asleep for 4,000 years, but I haven't accompanied Ra on that mini yacht of his in quite some time." "Four thousand?" several voices echo.

"Right, you were too busy 'traveling the world and finding yourself,'" Seungcheol huffs, recalling his uncle's own words. "Actually, I was busy trying to find my family because the loneliness of walking around for four millennia on my own, doing nothing but thinking about every mistake I ever made was becoming entirely unbearable. Ra encouraged my journey to make amends." You wince at the unexpected and intimate admission. "But you wouldn't know about that, dear nephew. You were busy napping." "Forgive me for finding myself tired in mind, body, and soul after you murdered my father, fought me for the better part of a century, and gouged my eye out," Seungcheol scoffs. "Jesus Christ," Joshua whispers just as Jeonghan whistles and mutters, "The family drama goes crazy." "Oh, please, Thoth fixed your eye just fine!" he argues, gesturing wildly at Seungcheol's golden iris. "If anything, you look a million times cooler like that!" "It's true, he does," Jeonghan comments, nodding. "And besides, I already said sorry!" Vernon bellows, his voice accompanied by a sudden downpour of rain outside that you know isn't a coincidence. You look over at the windows to find water already beginning to cascade down the glass. "Oh, well, as long as you said sorry!" Seungcheol barks a laugh at his face. "I guess all is well then!"

"When did he learn to use sarcasm?" Wonwoo whispers, eyes never leaving the two. "He spends all his time with her," Chan jerks his head toward you. "Of course he was going to pick up on sarcasm sooner or later." "Um," you mutter as you ignore them and turn back to the gods, "maybe we should all just calm down, and—"

There's a deafening crack of thunder somewhere above the hotel, so powerful, you feel it reverberate in your own chest. You flinch, instinctively stepping back even as Seungcheol inserts himself between you and the god of storms. You feel a tug on your sleeve and find Wonwoo pulling you back to stand with him and Chan. "You said you forgave me! Why say you forgive me if you're just going to hold it over my head?!" he shrieks at his nephew. You think you'd find this funny if the booms of thunder weren't getting increasingly louder, causing the windows to rattle with each rumble. "And you said you had changed!" There's a loud crash behind you, causing you and the other two humans cowering in the corner to jump and turn toward the glass doors that lead to the private courtyard. It's too dark outside and the water distorts the shapes you can already barely make out the windows. "If that were true, why are you neglecting your duties with Ra?!" "What was that?" Joshua asks before being frantically hushed by Jeonghan, whose brows furrow in concentration trying to listen to the gods yell at each other. "Are you dense? I just told you why!"

"I will not be fooled by you," Seungcheol seethes through gritted teeth. "Do not pretend to care about any of us, least of all me!" There's another crash, and this time, you turn early enough to catch something escaping away from the doors and into the darkness. You squint hard, eyes straining to see past the torrent of rain with no success. It isn't until there's a flash of lightning that you finally see where the sound is coming from. The night is drenched in stark whites and electric blues, and for a brief moment, Vernon's anger illuminates not only the dozens of birds perched on the perimeter of the courtyard—on roofs, railings, benches, ledges, any available surface really—but the hundreds circling the sky, which has turned into a swirling, sinister, black cloud. The birds are all situated facing your group, seemingly watching and waiting for an order. "Holy shit," Chan whispers next to you. "Seungcheol…" you call half-heartedly, too stunned by the sheer amount of birds outside to look away. "You are impossible," Vernon spits. "Leave it to you to hold a grudge for 4,000 years!" "You murdered my—" "Oh shut up!" The words deliver a particularly devastating explosion of thunder that shakes the entire building, and you realize with just enough time to tackle both Wonwoo and Chan to the ground that this is the sign the birds were waiting for. The three of you frenziedly scramble under the desk as the room explodes into fragments of glass. The birds crash right through the doors and windows with absolutely no hesitation as they flock to their commanding god, circling the two and encasing them in their own arena of sorts.

You can faintly hear Joshua and Jeonghan's frantic screaming, indiscernible against the cacophony of howling wind, pounding rain, and earsplitting thunder. "Oh my god!" Chan shouts. "What the hell do we do?!" "What?!" Wonwoo shouts back at him over your head. "I said," your subordinate starts, sucking in a deep breath before yelling back to the man on your other side, "WHAT THE HELL DO WE DO?!" You glare at him, elbowing him to give you space. "Oh! I don't know!" is the man's answer. "Maybe we should—" You don't hear what you're sure is a super brilliant idea because there's a loud crash and your bosses' voices are cut off. The lights flicker until they completely shut down, the room lit only by the lightning bolts that strike at the sky. You clamp your hands over your ears, entirely too overwhelmed to hear any of your own thoughts, let alone figure out a plan of action to get the gods to stop wreaking havoc on the hotel. You squeeze your eyes shut as the world around you shakes and roars, and if this is just two gods bickering, you're struck with the raw fear of what it would look like if Apep succeeds in devouring the sun. You feel a tug on your shirt and open your eyes to find Chan pointing toward your feet. You look down and find a cluster of tiny birds—the same ones that have been following you around since you started feeding them. They tilt their heads at you happily, periodically hopping in place as if there isn't any imminent danger. "What are you doing?!" you scream at them, earning you a look from both Wonwoo and Chan. The birds tilt their heads the other way. "Get out of here! You'll get hurt! This is for the big birds!" They hop and flutter their wings briefly. "I don't have any food!" You shake your head, turning your attention away from them and carefully poking your head out from under the desk to peek at the gods. They each have a weapon in their grasp now—Seungcheol his sun-soaked spear and Vernon a sceptre with a long-snouted animal made of gold at the end of it. You watch helplessly as they lob strike after strike at each other, every blow producing a sonic boom and a burst of blinding light that makes it feel impossible to follow their movements. The two only ever pause to scream at each other, their words completely lost to you. At a few points, Seungcheol's birds attempt to help get the upper hand, swiping at Vernon with their sharp talons, just to be called off by their own god himself.

Whatever, cheater. Are you suggesting I won our battle because I cheated? You have no doubt Vernon's earlier jibes are what prevent Seungcheol from allowing his birds to intervene. The two remain evenly matched, and you don't know how long you, Wonwoo, Chan, and the tiny birds have been watching them for when Vernon successfully feints to the right, his nephew responding accordingly. He switches his stance at the last moment and wastes no time swiping at Seungcheol's legs from the left, taking him down in the blink of an eye. He quickly spins his sceptre, the sharpened end pointed right at Seungcheol's throat. And you do what you do best: you run right at the danger without a second thought. Neither of your colleagues have a chance to stop you as you your legs force you forward before you can even process what you're doing. Your eyes are trained on the gods. Vernon's mouth is moving, speaking lowly to his nephew through gritted teeth as his eyes flash with 4,000 years of pent-up emotions you can't even begin to try to understand. Seungcheol watches him carefully, still as a statue as his eyes flick between his uncle and the spearhead. He only notices your movement from his peripherals when you're mere steps away, turning his head to look at you, eyes widening with panic when he registers what's happening. His mouth starts to shape the word no, but you don't listen; you don't even let him finish saying it. Vernon turns over his shoulder to follow his gaze, his own eyebrows rising as you close the distance to them. His grip on his weapon falters right as you throw your body between them. Your breath is ragged as you cover the god's body with yours, arms caging him in like you can actually protect him. Your fear convinces you that you can. That even if you die for it, you will. That you'll do whatever it takes to protect him the way he needs someone to. For the first time since you met him, Seungcheol looks terrified—like you're the threat. He scans your face with alarm, the gold in his eye glowing so brightly, you almost can't look directly at it. He breathes fear into your name. "What are you—DON'T!" He hugs you to himself tightly and you sense the other god tower over the two of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in the crook of Seungcheol's neck and hoping that if Vernon has a conscience—which you suspect he does—that he won't kill an uninvolved mortal just to get to his nephew.

"Yes," you whisper into Seungcheol's ear, thinking of all the gifts propped up in the living room of your hotel room. All the meals the god fed you. All the conversations you've had and the feelings you've been gifted since Korea. "After this week—after all of this, my answer would have been yes." He shouts again, voice cracking as his hold on you gets impossibly tight, but you can hardly hear over your own pounding heartbeat and blood rushing in your ears. The chaos lasts for only a moment more before it all just… stops. The silence that follows is almost more deafening than the storm was. You muster up the courage to lift your head off Seungcheol's chest just enough to find the god already frantically running his hands along every bit of your back, making sure you aren't injured. When he finds you unharmed, he heaves the loudest, most dramatic groan and throws his head back, letting his body go limp under you as he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You are going to be my undoing, mortal," he pants. You frown as one of your tiny birds lands on Seungcheol's forehead and chirps at you cheerfully. The god pays her no attention, and when you feel movement along your shoulders, you realize all of your tiny birds came with you, every single one protectively (and joyfully) resting on your head and back and on various parts of their own god. "I would've never hurt her."

You sit up, looking over your shoulder at Vernon, whose weapon is nowhere to be found. You feel the taps of microscopic feet as the birds hop on you to adjust to your movements. The god of storms looks down at you, his face devoid of any of the anger and bitterness it carried just moments ago. Now, he just looks tired. He glances between you and Seungcheol. "Or you," he adds. His eyes flick to the birds. "Or… them… I guess." The bird hops off of his forehead as Seungcheol opens his eyes and stares hard at Vernon for several seconds. His face eventually softens into the same exhausted expression, and it's like watching him physically let go of his fight—his stubbornness. The resentment between the two seems to evaporate as fast as it reared its ugly head, leaving him visibly drained. "I know." He takes a deep breath and lets his head fall once more, his hand squeezing your waist closer to his body. You're filled with an inexplicable swell of comfort at how genuine the two words sound. You know it isn't easy to believe him after everything he's done to Seungcheol. The man exhales underneath you. "I know."

THE HINDUSTAN PAPER 29 April 2026 Localized Storm Baffles Meteorologists, Hundreds of Birds Gather Outside Central Delhi Hotel NEW DELHI — Meteorologists are investigating a highly unusual weather event that developed early Wednesday morning over the Rajpath District, where a severe thunderstorm remained confined to an area measuring less than one square kilometer for nearly 20 minutes. According to the India Meteorological Department (IMD), surrounding neighborhoods experienced calm conditions with clear visibility, while guests at the Ashoka Grand Hotel reported torrential rainfall, hurricane-force wind gusts and near-continuous thunder. "It was as if someone had drawn a circle around the building," said one hotel employee. "We couldn't even see across the street." "We could hear the thunder from where we were," said a resident living just a little more than a kilometer away from the hotel that had been woken up by the storm. "But when I looked out, there wasn't any rain. It looked fine." Witnesses also reported an unusual concentration of birds gathering around the hotel during the storm ranging from pigeons and crows to flowerpeckers and mynas, as well as several birds of prey, most notably, falcons. Wildlife officials stated that no obvious explanation has been identified for the behavior. The storm dissipated as abruptly as it formed. The World Meteorological Organization (WMO) has acknowledged awareness of the incident but has not commented on whether it is connected to the series of unexplained atmospheric anomalies reported across Asia in recent weeks. At this time, authorities have confirmed no injuries and reported minor structural damage to the hotel. Meteorologists continue to review satellite imagery.

You're approaching 13 hours since the argument that rocked the hotel grounds and countless since you've last slept by the time you're entering your shared hotel room with Seungcheol. Upon being disconnected from the meeting, both Jeonghan and Joshua immediately hopped on the UN's jet and made their way to India with the Public Affairs team to mitigate the situation with locals. And for some reason—probably as punishment—Jeonghan required each and every one of you to be awake and present throughout it all. During the debrief with Public Affairs, during their statement to the press, during the meetings with the hotel to discuss the "unexpected storm" and the damage incurred to their equipment and to the property. And finally, when he and Joshua couldn't take their exhaustion themselves, Jeonghan released you all to your hotel rooms, demanding you be back in the new, much smaller room the hotel provided you since the gods destroyed your previous makeshift headquarters in just five hours to figure out a game plan. Vernon, very clearly powered by whatever guilt he harbors over his abandoned station protecting Ra on his boat, opted to stay in the room, poring over Wonwoo's data and his computers and set on finding something for you all to wake up and come back to.

You shuffle into the suite, barely functioning as you mindlessly kick your shoes off and make your way into the bedroom, not really registering that Seungcheol is following close behind you. You only notice as you stand in front of the bed, staring at it as you debate spending more energy you don't have to shower or if you should just get into bed in your outside clothes. You sway a little from the exhaustion, and without hesitation, his two hands come to your waist to steady you. The warmth of his hands seep right past your clothes, and before you can convince yourself not to, you chase that feeling of comfort and safety and lean back into his hold until your back is flush against his chest and your head is cradled by his shoulder. You sigh pleasantly, eyes fluttering closed. "Rest," Seungcheol says, the rumble of his voice reverberating from his chest and into your back. "We can talk when you wake." You open your eyes at that, turning to face him. He lets his hands fall from your waist, but you catch them, placing them back on you almost petulantly. One corner of his mouth quirks up in amusement but his fingers curl around you tighter. "What do we need to talk about?" you ask, feigning ignorance. The god doesn't glare at you like he does whenever you make a joke during a serious moment. This time, he watches you steadily, eyes skimming over your entire face and body. He starts running his hands across your back, brows furrowing the tiniest bit as he does. You immediately understand what he's doing, and you grab his forearms to stop him. "Cheol, I'm not hurt."

His hands freeze, his expression surrendering some of the anxiety he seems to have been shielding from you for the last 13 hours. From the moment the storm ended and the hotel employees burst into the room to check on you to the moment Jeonghan excused everyone, Seungcheol has been hovering over you in a way anyone would perceive as much clingier than usual. He didn't take more than one step away from you at all times, even going as far to rest a hand on your shoulder or your knee despite the looks both Jeonghan and Joshua gave the two of you. At one point, Chan took the seat next to you and was immediately chased out of it with a single, silent death glare. When things slowed down, he tried to talk to you, just to get interrupted by one of the others—Joshua, desperate to understand what happened after they were disconnected. Wonwoo, demanding answers about the weakening sunlight. Chan, asking where the heck your tiny birds went. Even Vernon, surprisingly and quietly commending your bravery intervening the way you did. You knew he was still reeling from the stress of the argument, but having his hands all over you now, searching for something that isn't there—looking into his eyes now and seeing the desperation and helplessness in them—you suddenly understand the kind of emotional turmoil he's been in the entire day.

"Hey…" you speak softly, bringing your hands up to his biceps and rubbing up and down gently. "What's wrong?" "Why did you do that?" he asks, voice barely breaking above a whisper. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that? You could have… you could have—" He clears his throat. You shake your head and smile, hoping it will convince him that you never thought you were ever in any danger, even if it's not true. No one needs to know the way the terror belatedly settled into your bones just as you threw yourself over his body, least of all Seungcheol himself. It doesn't take any words for you to see he's not-at-all convinced, though. "I just… needed to," you say, unsure what other reason you had to do what you did. It was as natural as blinking, as breathing, as existing. You didn't have to think twice; it was just what needed to be done. "I felt something odd when I saw you running to me," he tells you, shaking his head as his eyes go somewhere far away, gaze coming down to your shoulder. He frowns as he tries to make sense of whatever's in his head. "I forgot where I was and what I was doing. It felt as though the heart of my vessel had suddenly failed. Like these lungs were no longer working. I felt…"

"Scared?" you try filling the word in. His eyes come back up to you and his frown deepens. "I thought the feeling was foreign to the gods—something given only to humans so they would revere us," he admits. You laugh a little. "You've never been scared?" "No. I have never been scared." Your smile fades as the realization that Seungcheol was scared for you dawns on you. He stood in the middle of a typhoon and stared at the sky like he was stargazing. He faced a tsunami head-on without so much as blinking. He fought Vernon fiercely with a confidence that certainly seemed befitting of someone who's never felt fear. And the first time the god feels fear in the thousands of years he's been sentient is when he thinks your life is threatened. "Oh," you say dumbly, unsure what else there is to say. "I'm… it's okay. Vernon said so himself—he never would've hurt me. I was never in any danger." He shakes his head, seeming a little frustrated as he does. "You did not know that when you put yourself between two, very dangerous gods," he argues. "You ran into the danger even when you still thought there was a chance you could die." His voice cracks on the last word and he pauses, swallowing as he looks over your head with glassy eyes. "You could have died."

You purse your lips and look down at his chest as you mull the words over. You don't really have anything to say to that because you do remember very briefly thinking you would die to protect Seungcheol. And standing here, in the safety of the god's arms with no imminent danger looming over you, you know that it wasn't just the adrenaline speaking. Standing here, with a clearer albeit tired head, you think you would still die to protect him. "It turns out I don't need years to know I like you either," you tell him, feeling a little silly as you do. It's only been days, and already, you're changing the tune of your song. You let your hands travel from his biceps to his chest, and the heart of his vessel beats erratically under your palm. "And you're someone worth protecting to me. Even if it means it comes at the cost—" "Stop," he interrupts you, an angry edge to his voice. "Do not say that." "It's the truth." You look up at him to find him staring at the same spot over your head—probably the wall behind you—eyes filled with unshed tears now. You frown, snaking your hand up his chest, his neck, and to his cheek. You shake your head as you swipe your thumb across his skin. He's warm and soft and you immediately feel lighter just having your bare skin against his. He looks back down at you, unmoving even when the first of his tears fall. "It's okay to feel scared, Seungcheol," you tell him. "You don't think I was scared, too?" You catch his tears as they approach the hand resting against him. "Why do you think I came to you in the first place? I watched someone entirely capable of murder take you down and point his weapon at you." His fingers curl against you until they're just tightly balled fists resting on your waist.

"I'm fine. I'm here. So are you. Everyone is okay." You give him a few moments to let the words sink in before you continue. "I'm your consort, am I not?" you ask, voice trembling. His gaze sharpens, the gold shining more luminously. "This is what we'll do for each other. You protect me. I protect you. Right?" He takes a deep breath, his entire demeanor changing from someone overwhelmed and paralyzed with fear to someone tasked with a responsibility he takes incredibly seriously. He nods. "Of course," he says, voice steady and strong again. "I will protect you with my life." "And I you, with mine." His face falls back into a glare. "I would rather—" You shake your head as you smile pleasantly at him. "I do not care." He clamps his mouth shut, and you grin widely at the revelation that he is a believer of happy wife, happy life. You let the hand on his cheek travel to the back of his neck, fingers twirling into the long hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp slowly. He groans at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut and giving you the opportunity to admire him unabashedly. This is a god and you've taken him as a husband. You smile to yourself at the thought. "Seungcheol." He opens his eyes. "Yes?" "Will you kiss me?" The god flattens his hands against your lower back, pressing you to him until you're joined chest to toe. He wraps one arm around you as he brings the other hand up to cradle your face, hand so large, his fingers plunge into your hair and rest at the base of your skull. Seungcheol tilts your head up to his, and his gaze shifting between your eyes and lips quickly. "I have wanted this since you first welcomed me into your life," he tells you. He doesn't give you a chance to process that information or respond because he dips his head down to meet his lips to yours.

It's about as mind-blowing as you imagine kissing a god would be. It's vast and eternal and sacred, and it feels like you're being carried right through the thousands of years he's lived. He kisses you, and you feel the power of his reign. You see empires rise and fall. You watch the sands of time slip through glass. And through it all, is Seungcheol. And now you. You're lost in it immediately, and you close your eyes, trying desperately to keep your body upright and against him as the heat of his affection melts everything on the way down from your mouth—until you feel it right between your legs. His hold on both your waist and your jaw tightens hesitantly, like he thinks anything more might crush you. But when you open your mouth and run your tongue against his, begging for entry, he groans and hugs you to himself so tightly, you don't know where you end and he begins. He welcomes you in, his tongue twisting with yours with the expertise only someone who's done this since the beginning of time can. He walks you the short distance to the bed, grip on you loosening when the back of your legs hit the mattress. His hands come down to your hips, thumbs massaging the soft flesh there as his kiss slows to something less voracious and less desperate. Like he's just realized you're right—you are okay and you are here, and nothing bad is going to happen. He isn't going to lose you. He has time with you.

His thumbs dig into your hips as he leans away and pushes you back onto the bed. You gasp at the abrupt motion. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching nervously as Seungcheol stands at the edge of the bed and hooks his hand into the pit of your knee, lifting so that your leg is hiked up on his waist. You bring your other leg to wrap around him without his help and he smirks at your unprompted obedience. He runs his hands up and around so that his palms are flat against your shins before he drags them forward and down the front of your thighs, stopping at the apex. Unbeknownst to him, you clench around nothing when his hands rest too close but too far from where you want him to be. "Seungcheol." Your cheeks warm when you hear how whiny your own voice comes out. The god's fingers twitch at the same sound that embarrasses you. "If you give yourself to me tonight," he starts, voice husky as his eyes sweep you up and down. Your breath hitches at the vulgar images his words immediately inspire from your imagination. "That will be it. You will be mine, and I will be yours."

You give him a shallow nod. It might have taken a near-death experience, but you know that's exactly what you want now. Exactly what you need. "There is no changing your mind. There is no one else you will lay with. No one else you will worship. No one else you will love." You inhale sharply at the word, squirming under his touch like that will help his hands slip lower toward your core. He squeezes your thighs to subdue you. "It will only be you. And me. Until the sands still." You're too lost in the all-consuming need for exactly what he's promising you to wonder what it truly entails. "Do you understand?" You nod more frantically now. "Yes. Yes, I understand, Cheol. Okay." "And?" You reach forward and he acquiesces to your silent request immediately, planting a knee on the bed almost right up against your groin and bending down to hover over you so that you're eye-to-eye. You wrap yourself around him, pulling his head down to envelop his lips again. He kisses you back with just as much eagerness, and you almost forget that he asked you a question until he breaks apart, pinning you down against the mattress when you try to chase him. He gives you a pointed look, raising his eyebrows at you.

You roll your lips between your teeth briefly before smiling. "And I want all of that," you finally answer him. "Only you, only me. That's exactly what I want." He processes the words for a moment, then the smile follows shortly. His entire face lights up like the missing sun, and he looks down at you with a level of fealty that paralyzes you. No one has ever looked at you like this—like devotion to you is second nature. You feel undoubtedly safe and loved. "I want to give you everything tonight, Seungcheol," you tell him, nodding with finality now. You can't help the small "If you want to, of course" you tag onto the end of your sentence. He scoffs at it. "I have never experienced desire like this in my existence," he informs you. "I have been yours for a long time now. All that is left is for you to be mine." You nod. "I'm yours." He leans down until you're nose-to-nose, the god tilting his head slowly to graze his skin along yours. You buck your hips up and meet nothing, his own hips still hovering over yours. He smirks. "I tend to lose myself in bed," he says, his breath tickling your skin. "Stop me if you need me to." "I won't," you say stubbornly. "Take me."

Instead of laying his weight across your body like you expect and desperately need him to, he pushes himself away and off the bed once more. He doesn't give you time to complain, busying himself with the waistband of your sweats and undoing the knot you had no business double tying when you first put this on. Once it's free, he pulls your sweats off, your panties following immediately. He stares at your cunt for several seconds, his breathing becoming shallow the longer he does. "Seungcheol, come here," you whisper, reaching for him. He obeys, mouth on yours and giving you what you want before you can ask for it. His plump lips and his warm tongue feel so much more intense with the weight of your promises behind them now. His power serves you, the empires that rise are yours, and the sands of time move only at your will. Somehow, you know he truly meant it when he said he's been yours for some time now. You wish you hadn't deprived yourself of this for as long as you did because you're already drunk off the euphoria of him. When he leans back, his hands are under your shirt, skimming your skin as he pushes it up and over your chest. He abandons the shirt for your bra, frowning down at it. Realizing he probably hasn't seen a bra since waking up, you open your mouth to explain what it is, but you underestimate his patience. Without wasting another moment, he rips the fabric between the cups easily, tearing the undergarment off you before doing the same with your shirt.

"Seungcheol!" you screech, watching your clothes disappear over his shoulder. "You can't just destroy my clothes!" "I will get you more," he mutters, flattening his tongue over your nipple, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the air conditioning of the room. You gasp, hips twitching against his and prompting him to bring a hand to your hips and press you back down. The god laps at your nipple so fervently, you feel your arousal dripping down your folds and into the sheets under you. He pulls all sorts of sounds out of you, only stopping to bite and suck at the flesh of your breast. When your hips won't stop uncontrollably bucking up, he moves the hand pinning you down from your hip to your pussy, running his middle finger down along your slit. "So wet," he grunts, suddenly too preoccupied with his finger to continue leaving marks on your chest. When it's thoroughly soaked with your arousal, he slips his middle and ring fingers into you in one go, pressing his thumb against your clit once he's knuckle-deep inside you. "Oh, fuck," you mewl, hands turning into fists around the linen covering his shoulders. He watches you shamelessly, eyes boring into yours as he starts to pump in and out and his thumb massages your clit simultaneously. "Oh, Cheol."

"Mmm," he hums, obviously pleased at the reaction he's getting. It only inspires you to be even more vocal as his fingers start working harder as a reward. "You can take it, right," he states more than he asks. "Yes," you rush to say, suddenly afraid any lapse in response will make him stop. "Yes, yes. I—I can take it." "I know you can. You…" he murmurs before planting a kiss on your lips, "are perfect." You sigh his name, his praise feeling downright holy paired with his fingers inside you. "That feels so good," you exhale between moans, trying to keep your body from arching as he works you open. Your eyes close on their own accord, and the bed dips as Seungcheol moves to get off it, leaving your hands empty. His fingers don't lose their rhythm, though, making it hard for you to open your eyes to see what he's doing. When you feel his breath fan across the skin of your mound, you make a broken sound and grip the sheets under you like they'll save you. Seungcheol's thumb lifts off of your clit, replacing it with his mouth. He leaves gentle kisses on and around the bundle of nerves until your thighs are trembling pathetically. When you're reduced to bumbling underneath him, he finally opens his mouth, stiffens his tongue, and kneads into the skin immediately surrounding your clit without touching it.

You keen at the sensation of his spit sliding down his tongue, pooling around your clit, and dripping down your folds to join your own fluids. His fingers slow inside you to match the way his tongue languidly and teasingly traces circles into your cunt. "You eat it so good, Cheollie," you whimper even as he intentionally dodges your clit with each pass of his tongue. Thankfully, the praise undoes his resolve and he flattens his tongue, covering you as he starts to greedily eat you out. "Seungcheol!" He doesn't let up even as you start to thrust up into his face, making you little more than a mess of spit and discharge. When he slips a third finger into you, your orgasm takes hold on you without warning, forcing a string of moans and curses out of you. Every muscle in your body contracts in response to the sensation, forcing you up into a crunch. You prop yourself back up on your elbow, the other hand coming to the back of Seungcheol's head as you practically hump his face, too engrossed in your orgasm to feel ashamed of it. Thankfully, the god seems to appreciate it, his tongue and fingers stuttering and becoming erratic as he groans and grinds into the edge of the bed. He slows when your grip on his hair loosens and your muscles relax as you get over the crest of your orgasm, sending you collapsing back into the mattress. He licks one last stripe over you, drinking you clean as he takes his fingers out of you.

He stands, making quick work of the knots on his linens until his top unwraps and falls off his body and to the floor. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in his naked torso. It's not your first time seeing it in the last 24 hours, but it is your first time seeing it under these circumstances, and it has your pussy aching to be filled. He stares at you steadily, the corner of his mouth tilting into a smug smirk when your eyes drop to his hands at the waistband of his pants. He undoes the knot on his belt, and lets them join the rest of his clothes on his floor, and Seungcheol is naked before you. "You are so, so beautiful, Seungcheol," you whisper, feeling small all of a sudden. It's hard not to as you stare at his cock, just as well-endowed as suspected. He doesn't say anything and his expression betrays no sign that he even heard you. He simply climbs back on top of you, slipping an arm under you and easily carrying you further up onto the bed until your head is on a pillow. He kisses you once, twice, three times, before he works his way to your neck, muttering into your skin as he does. "You are the most beautiful soul to ever walk this world," he says confidently like he knows it for a fact. You shiver as his lips graze your pulse. "In all my thousands of years of godhood, I never would have dreamed of finding a consort as beautiful, as intelligent, as selfless, as perfect as you." You hook one leg over his hip, digging the heel of your foot into his ass to get his cock closer to your entrance. When he doesn't budge, you groan, glaring down at his dick like it's at fault. "Look at me, love." The affectionate pet name forces your gaze up quickly, and when you meet his eyes, you know he put his entire heart behind that single word. He stares at you like you're the deity in the room and he's the most pious man at your altar. He brushes your hair away from your face, taking his time studying your face. "Seungcheol, you can't change your mind either," you tell him. He's not even inside you yet, and you know it's over. He can't look at you like this and expect you to ever be without him again. "You'll be mine, too."

He smiles like the thought of anything else is silly. "I already am." He kisses you gently before he adds, "I will not change my mind." You nod. "Good. Now, please get inside me." His cheeks turn a pretty pink as he finally lowers himself, lining himself up with your hole. You inhale sharply when you feel his tip poking between your folds. He doesn't slide in, though. "Look at me when I take you." You groan at the possessiveness in his words, watching him with half-lidded eyes as he finally, finally, finally starts to push into you. He takes a painstakingly slow time, both of you panting through the tight fit as he disappears into you inch by inch. "You're so big, Cheol," you whisper, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut so you can honor his command to look at him. "I know. But it is all yours," he reminds you, peppering kisses across your cheek and neck. "So you can handle it, can't you, love?" You almost choke on the moan the words inspire from you. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes." After a few more moments, Seungcheol bottoms out, buried in you to the hilt. You curse, finally giving into the need to close your eyes as you adjust to the feeling. The god doesn't move, settling for attaching his mouth to your nipple once more, one hand coming down to your clit and lazily massaging as he lets you take your time relaxing into the sensation of being full.

"So foolish of you to think I am not already yours," he mutters, lifting his mouth off your chest. You open your eyes and find him watching you again, his lips forming a smile when you squirm under his quickening pace on your clit. "I chose you the moment you came back to the beach in Singapore. I chose you before you ever made your offering. I chose you every dawn and every dusk since then—every moment in between..." He sighs happily, keeping his eyes on you. "So foolish to think otherwise." "Cheol…" you gasp as you feel a second orgasm on the horizon. His fingers are more than enough to get you there, but his words usher you along even faster. "Please." "Shhh," he shushes you gently as you start to whimper the closer you get. Seungcheol notices the wetness in your eyes before even you do. "Oh, do not cry, my love. I am a generous god." You release a desperate sob when he leans down and runs his tongue up the length of your cheek, licking up the few stray tears that escaped the corner of your eyes. You clench around him and he moans loudly, making sure you know you feel just as good to him as he does to you. "Your tears taste like reverence," he whispers against your skin, kissing the path the tears took down your face. "How can I belong to anyone else when you worship me so well?" "I do," you gasp, nodding desperately. You're so close. "I'll worship you better than anyone else can, Seungcheol. All yours." He hums, pleased with the words. "I will show you exactly what it means to be mine. I will make love to you so thoroughly, you will only know my name. Only speak my name." "Seungcheol." He smiles. "Going to fill you up until you are more me than you are you." Your mouth falls open in a silent shout as your pleasure starts to rear its head at the thought of Seungcheol dripping out of you for days. "There you go. That's it. Come undone for me, my heart. Let go."

Your muscles unwind at the command, allowing the orgasm to ravage your body without resistance. Timing it perfectly with your climax, Seungcheol finally pulls his cock halfway out of you before pounding right back in, coaxing a scream out of you. When his second thrust in has you writhing in pure ecstasy, he deems it safe to set a near brutal pace, hips snapping to meet your ass so hard, your skin starts to throb. You reach up overhead as his cock bullies you further and further up the bed until you're hitting the headboard. You press a palm against it, pushing yourself away from it and inadvertently sucking Seungcheol deeper into you. You keep your hand there as your body is dragged up and down the bed mercilessly. "Oh, Seungcheol," you groan, "Please." "What is it, love," he pants. "What do you need?" "Fill me up," you gasp. "Fill—fill me—" He reaches up, grasping your face in his hand and squeezing until your mouth is wide open. He leans down, mouth swishing as he looks up at you like he's asking if you're sure. "Please." The word is barely out when he squeezes your face hard and spits into your mouth, the first bits of Seungcheol becoming part of you. Your cunt clenches around him as you swallow, feeling a fraction better at the thought of having a piece of him now. "M—more," you breathe, barely able to speak with how roughly he pounds into you. He has you pinned underneath him, and still, he proves himself to be at your beck and call, immediately complying and spitting into you again when you open your mouth wide. "Fuck!"

"Take it," he pants, finger wiping at some of his spit on your chin and shoving it into your mouth. You suck his finger, tongue swirling around it. You moan at the taste—a mix of the salt from his sweat and your own cum. He moans right back at you, his hips snapping forward with more piety as you release his finger. "Perfect. So perfect." The constant reminder of how the god sees you finally makes something inside you snap, and before he can register what's happening, you're turning the both of you until you're on top of him—deft enough that you do it without him slipping out of you. He inhales, hands coming to your waist to support you as you immediately bounce on his cock. "Oh gods," he breathes. "Yes, just like that." "Do you like it, Cheollie?" you ask, words coming out in broken gasps as you impale yourself on his cock repeatedly. He nods hastily. "Do you like my pussy? The way you fit inside me so perfectly?" "Yes, my heart. I love it." "It's yours," you remind him as your arousal makes nasty squelching sounds that just make you even wetter. Seungcheol's hand comes down to your clit, the other heading the opposite direction to cup your breast—both working their assigned body part simultaneously with a feverish energy. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling, hand coming up to grip the edge of the headboard as you ride the god. You know you only have one orgasm left in you before you teeter into overstimulation, so you grab the hand rubbing your cunt and you bring it up to your other breast, squeezing both your hands over his until he has your chest in a territorial grip.

"Mine," he practically growls. You nod, unable to say anything as you try not to come. "Seungcheol… can't… I can't—I'm—" "One more, my love," he breathes. "Can you do one more?" "Y-yes," you answer. He carefully pulls out of you, whispering comforting words into your ear when you start complaining. Seungcheol turns you around and gently pushes you to your knees, his hand settling between your shoulder blades and pushing you until your cheek is against the mattress. He bends over you, chest pressed to your back. He kisses your shoulder before whispering, "Do not forget: stop me if you must." "I won't," you tell him, wishing you could see his face when you hear his amused snort. The god pushes himself back off you and nudges his knee on the inside of each thigh, directing you to spread wider for him. He palms each ass cheek, spreading them apart for several seconds. You're honestly too fucked out to feel self-conscious about him studying such a vulnerable part of you. "So beautiful," he sighs to himself. He grips your hips, not bothering to warn you as he thrusts back into you hard, his pace immediately aggressive from the start. You don't know if it's the exhaustion from an eventful day or the fog of lust you're blanketed in, but you can't even find it in yourself to release the sounds your body desperately wants to. Your moans are cut off, stuck in your throat as you try desperately to last long enough to have Seungcheol finish inside you.

His fingers dig into you, pulling your hips back to meet his as he thrusts forward, the sound of your skin slapping together and Seungcheol's soft pants filling the room. You hear him spit again, and it isn't until you feel your pussy impossibly wetter that you realize he spit on his own cock, fucking more of himself into you. You groan, the noise half muffled by the mattress. It only takes a few more thrusts before Seungcheol pulls you up against his chest, hand splayed across your throat and forcing your head against his shoulder. Without interrupting his rhythm, he guides your head to turn to the side so he can catch your lips, tongue entering your mouth as soon as you open it. You cry and sob into the kiss, the new position allowing him the perfect angle to hit the ridged spot inside you, cock luring your third and final orgasm closer and closer to the surface. You break the kiss with a gasp of his name. "I am with you," he pants in your ear before leaving open-mouth kisses down your neck. He wraps one arm around your chest, a hand finding your nipple and pinching. The other hand, of course, finds your clit once more, no intention of leaving it this time. "Come, my heart. One more. I am with you. Give me one more." The assurance that Seungcheol is coming along with you finally allows you to give in to the pleasure, your cunt clamping down on him hard when you do. He captures your mouth again, swallowing your screams and replacing them with his own moans as his dick pulses inside you, pumping you full of his cum just like he promised he would. It feels endless, the hot flow of it eventually having nowhere else to go, and leaking out of you in a filthy, lewd mixture of god-given gratification. "Say it," Seungcheol murmurs when you both have survived the peak of it, voice vibrating against your back. He slows to a stop. "Yours." You feel his lips smile against your shoulder. "And I am yours."

You sigh happily at the reminder, eyes fluttering closed as Seungcheol brings both arms to wrap around your waist in a sweet embrace. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, tightening his hold on you as he whispers all kinds of promises into your skin. To protect you, worship you, respect you, support you, care for you. And best of all, as you start to feel the exhaustion take over your consciousness, the god of the sky kisses you once more and promises to love you until the sands still—until the end of time.

UNITED NATIONS – OFFICE FOR COORDINATION OF HUMANITARIAN AFFAIRS DEPLOYMENT NOTIFICATION: IMMEDIATE MISSION ID: UNOCHA/EMEA/0808-EGY LOCATION: The Duat, Egypt LEAD OFFICER: Seungcheol Choi, Uniter of the Two Lands, Lord of the Sky, Protector of the Pharaoh, and Avenger of his father before him, Osiris, god of the underworld, the afterlife, and rebirth — and consultant to the UN Office of Humanitarian Affairs DATE ISSUED: 3 May 2026 DURATION: TBD DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Active threat to the sun SUMMARY: Following lengthy discussions with external consultants Seungcheol Choi and Vernon (last name unknown as he refuses to give it), it has been determined that the current environmental anomalies are not the result of natural meteorological or geological processes. They are the consequence of a snake attempting to eat the sun. Despite many protests from Consultants Seungcheol and Vernon, Lead Officer Y/N L/N and Officer Chan Lee will be deployed. Waivers have been signed, as requested by HR and Legal. OBJECTIVES:

Locate and save Ra

Assist Consultants Seungcheol and Vernon as needed

Ensure the humans remain alive

Due to the extreme circumstances, SITREPs will not be required

TRAVEL ADVISORY:

Intelligence regarding Duat is limited to ancient texts, Google, Officer Lee's Duat for Dummies guide and Consultants Seungcheol and Vernon. As such, personnel should be prepared for anything.

This is the UN's first deployment to the underworld. We do not have relevant guidance. Please, for the love of god Horus everything good, exercise sound judgment and return. ALIVE.

AUTHORIZED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section

Seungcheol is determined to remind you he's crossed with you every step of the way to the Duat. You don't know why he's so annoyed that you weaseled your way into this mission; you explicitly told him that night in India that he wouldn't be without you again. You're not sure why he thought the underworld would be an exception. Still, he won't meet your gaze or speak in more than one or two words at a time or, worse, simple grunts. Even now, as you stand on the literal banks of the Nile, he refuses to lift his eyes to yours. "Are you sure whoever is driving this boat knows to come get us?" Chan asks, sighing impatiently as he looks up and down the river. The light of the nearly full moon glints against the water, casting thousands of little diamonds on the surface, floating downriver. It would feel peaceful if you weren't here for the reason you are: to save Ra and make sure your husband doesn't die doing it. Your heart skips a beat. Your husband. In a matter of weeks, Seungcheol managed to go from a lunatic stranger you were risking your life for to someone incredibly important to you… that you are still risking your life for. No matter how angry he is, you wouldn't change your decision to be here.

"Yes," Vernon hisses, rolling his eyes. "You, humans, are so impatient. Do you think a boat ride between the mortal world and the Duat will take mere minutes?" Chan stares at him blankly and he scoffs. "It won't." "Okay, but how do you know it's coming?" "I just do!" he says when Seungcheol stays committed to remaining silent. "I am a literal god. Why do you doubt—" You make a noise of surprise as the bow of a cedar boat comes into view, slowly and quietly cutting through the waters of the Nile like a ghost in the night. It glides along slowly, almost achingly so, and it only stops when almost the entirety of the boat has passed. "Passage to the Duat?" a man at the stern asks. He holds a long oar upright in his fists, the other end of it anchored in the bank. He's tall, beautiful, graceful, and entirely too apathetic looking for someone whose job is to ferry souls into the underworld. Surely, the gig is more interesting than his bored, almost irritated expression suggests.

"Mahaf, is that you?" Seungcheol asks, no problem speaking now. Chan straightens as soon as he hears the name. The ferryman's eyes slide to the god and they narrow. "Minghao while we are in these waters, Seungcheol." Neither god seems surprised that he knows his name. "What brings you to the Duat?" he asks, gaze roaming over the four of you. "Is this the start of your questioning?" Vernon grumbles. The man's plump lips curve into a soft smirk. "No, just curious," Minghao answers. You frown and lean toward your subordinate. "Questioning?" you whisper. "You didn't read my Duat for Dummies guide, did you?" Chan pouts. You roll your eyes but mutter a quick apology all the same. "Mahaf is the celestial ferryman. He's known to make souls requiring passage into the Duat answer questions to prove their worthiness." "Oh. Great. A quiz. Exactly what you want to be subjected to right after you've died."

Chan elbows and shushes you, and because you know he's much more well-researched on all of this than you are—and that he would never dream of shushing you unless it was dire you shut up—you whisper another apology and stop speaking. "Two gods of your power… surely there are easier ways to travel into the Duat than on my humble boat, no?" "We have humans with us," Seungcheol says, clearly irked by that fact. "We want a guarantee that their souls will be given safe passage into and out of the Duat." Minghao nods, leaning into his oar and resting his chin atop it. "And only I can grant it." Your eyes widen. "Sorry, there's a chance our souls don't come out of the Duat?!" you squeak. "Oh my god, this was all in the Duat for Dummies guide, dude." Seungcheol throws you an exasperated look, and you immediately understand why he didn't want you here. "No," he answers. "There is no chance your soul will get stuck in the Duat because if Minghao does not grant you safe passage, you are not breathing near his boat, let alone stepping foot on it."

Vernon whistles and your cheeks are set aflame at the scolding. "Okay, watch the tone, sweet Cheollie," you warn him, feeling a modicum of satisfaction when he fidgets under your glare. "I get we're all a little high strung and anxious at the moment, but I'm here to help." "Ah," Minghao smiles widely now, extending a hand and gesturing to you. "So the great King has finally taken a Queen Consort." Vernon chokes on nothing as the ferryman casually outs you and your god. Seungcheol clears his throat and gives him a shallow nod, sending his uncle into a coughing fit. "Get a grip," Chan murmurs, pounding on the god's back until he swats him away. "I've started their wedding registry for them. I'll send you the link later." Vernon shoots him a withering look before turning to his nephew. "You're married?!" "Yes" is all Seungcheol affords him before turning to Minghao. "Can we start?" "As you wish. Who first?" "Us," Seungcheol answers immediately, pointing to himself and Vernon. You roll your eyes but allow him whatever comforts he needs.

Minghao waves them both forward before nodding at Vernon. "Set, Set, Set," he chants, turning ideas over in his head for how he wants to quiz the god. "Are we talking riddles or…?" you whisper to Chan. He shakes his head. "I don't know. All I know is that he wants the truth. So be honest." "Tell me, Set," Minghao starts, shutting you up immediately. You stand straight once more, all your attention on the ferryman. "What has been your greatest wound?" "Whoa, starting off strong," you murmur, Chan nodding in agreement. "Probably when he cut off my leg," he says simply, pointing at Seungcheol. You and Chan balk at Seungcheol, who simply shrugs. "He gouged out my eye." "So you cut off his leg?!" Chan whisper-shrieks. "His vessel has a leg," the god points out. "He is fine." Minghao shakes his head. "You know that is not what I am asking." Vernon sighs. "What are you asking?" "Your greatest wound, dude," Chan interjects, earning him another glower from the god. He nods and steps back. "You got this. I'll leave you to it."

"You are free to enter the Duat on your own," Minghao reminds him. "But if you want to get on my boat, you will do it as an honest man. What will it be?" You start to shift your weight from foot to foot the longer Vernon stands there, staring at the ground. It wouldn't be surprising if he chose to enter the Duat on his own and meet the rest of you once you've safely gotten in. It is surprising that he eventually answers. "I have tried to do good for thousands of years now, but I have only ever been remembered for my very worst mistakes," he finally says, voice quiet as he admits it. You feel a sudden dread at having to receive a question from Minghao. You already feel like you shouldn't have heard Vernon's answer, and if all of them are like this, this is going to be a painful entry fee. Minghao hums. "What do you seek in the Duat?"

"Oh my god, we get more than one question?" you ask, bringing a hand to your mouth and chewing on your nail anxiously. "Redemption," he says. Before Minghao can tell him it's the wrong answer, he adds, "And forgiveness." "Hm, alright" is all Minghao has for him. He nods at Seungcheol now. "Horus. Who are you if the world no longer needs a king?" Even from behind, you can see the way Seungcheol's shoulders tense, and you think about the conversations you've had about the people forgetting the gods—the way his light dimmed at the thought of no one at his altar. If Minghao's aim is to tear their insecurities wide open, he's doing a phenomenal job of it. "I am…" he starts. "I am nothing." You bite back a disappointed sigh. It was the answer you expected but hoped he had moved past.

Minghao narrows his eyes at him, a small smile playing on his lips. "I believe you believe that is true," he says slowly before his gaze lifts to meet yours. You suddenly feel incredibly small. He says your full name and it feels like he pulls you forward with it, your feet taking a few steps forward. "It's not her turn," Seungcheol cuts in, stepping in front of you. He goes ignored. "And you. Do you believe that is the correct answer? Should I allow Horus onto my boat with that answer?" You know you should just say yes—get the group on the boat faster and get to Ra faster. But you take Chan's word to heart and trust that honesty is actually the best policy here. You shake your head. "No. I don't believe that." Minghao smiles, nodding. "Horus." He gestures with his hand. "Would you like to try again?" Seungcheol takes a deep breath, finding the time to spare you a sharp look for throwing him under the bus. He shrugs. "I am still a god?" The ferryman shakes his head. "I am a man?" Another shake. "Oh, it's a trick question!" Chan pipes up. "The world will always need a king!" "Wait, we can phone a friend?" you ask when Minghao confirms with another head shake.

"He'd be a bird!" Vernon guesses. "A hawk?" you ask. "No, that's Ra," Chan corrects. "A falcon!" No. "I'd be human…?" No. "Why would you be human?" "I don't know, why would I be anything?" "Dead?" Chan guesses. "Would he be—" "No, you idiot," you hiss, slapping him upside the head. "Mention my husband dying one more time and I'll—" "He'd be his own king!" Vernon throws another one out there, pointing at Minghao as he does. Interestingly, the ferryman tilts his head in thought at that one before shaking his head no. "Damn." "No, wait," you breathe, "I think that one was close!" "There is no 'close,'" Minghao denies. "Only the truth." "Okay, Yoda," you say, waving a hand and making Chan's eyes bug out at you. The ferryman only smirks. "If the world no longer needed Seungcheol… does that take anything away from him?" "Uh yeah," Vernon deadpans, "his crown."

"Okay, literally yeah, the crown," you repeat, unaware if there's an actual crown. "But the world largely doesn't know that Seungcheol is a god, right?" He winces and you throw him an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's just a fact. Not many pagans these days. So if the world doesn't know that Seungcheol is king, then if they don't need a king, he would simply… continue existing." "He would still be himself," Chan follows along, nodding. "You would still be worthy." "Yes!" you agree, mostly because whether or not that's the actual answer, it's the takeaway you want him to have. "You'd be worthy!" You all look to Minghao, who just shrugs. "It is his question. He must believe his answer." You all look to Seungcheol now. "Well?" Vernon prods.

Your god's gaze flicks between everyone surrounding him until they ultimately stay fixed on you. You can still see the remnants of his irritation with you, but there's softness behind it—like he's asking if you really believe that. "I believe it," you say just in case he is. "I have since the beginning." "What wife says, goes," Vernon mutters, turning away with a tiny smirk. "If the world no longer needed a king," Seungcheol says to Minghao without looking away from you, "I would still be worthy." Minghao nods. "How devoted are you to your godly duties, Horus?" Seungcheol looks at him now. "As devoted as I can be." "Is that so," the ferryman smiles. "What do you hope to find in the Duat?" "My sun god." "Why?"

Everyone's eyes ping-pong between the two, suddenly engaged in a fast back-and-forth you hope you won't be the subject of when it's your turn. "He needs my help." "And you would help your sun god if he asked for it." "Yes." "What else?" "What else, what?" "What else would you do for your sun god?" Seungcheol frowns. As the only god he really answers to, you know he finds the question silly. "Anything." "And if your sun god commanded you leave her soul in the Duat," Minghao points at you, "would you?" You swallow hard with everyone else's eyes on you now. You wouldn't blame Seungcheol for saying yes. After all, he's been beholden to the laws of the gods for thousands of years, and he's known you for a few weeks. Really, he should say yes. He would be— "No. I would not."

Vernon's eyebrows meet his hairline and his jaw unhinges as he stares at his nephew, who refuses to look at anyone aside from his interrogator. "You would forsake your sun god?" "I would be faithful to my betrothed, which is what Ra would want." Vernon makes a face that suggests that is not-at-all what Ra would want, but Seungcheol ignores it. Minghao grins now. "Hm. You may both board." "Wow, he's down bad," Chan whispers to you as the two walk onto the gangway that extends from cedar to silt, talking to each other in low voices you can't make out. "Shut up," you grumble. "Look alive." Chan startles when Minghao points at him. "You. Lee Chan." "Yes, sir," the man responds, making you roll your eyes and step aside for him. Minghao's mouth twitches in amusement. "Why are you here?" Chan doesn't even have the shame to try and lie first. "I think this would be a fun story to tell my kids one day, and I suffer from severe FOMO." He pauses, tilting his head up at the sky to think before adding: "And I like her as my boss, so I guess it's important I help her stay alive." You raise an eyebrow at him but all he does is shrug. "You just want a good performance review." "Well, yes."

Minghao also looks surprised by his honesty, his momentum stuttering a little as he thinks the answer over. "Um, what do you hope to find in the Duat?" "Ra," he says, nodding and shrugging like it would just a nice plus rather than an absolute must-have that will save the world. The ferryman frowns at him like he's unsure what to make of the man. "What is your deepest insecurity?" "That people will stop hearing and seeing me, and I'll stop mattering to people." "Holy shit," Vernon half-laughs as Seungcheol stares from the boat, dumbfounded. "Chan…" you pout, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Oh please," he rolls his eyes, shrugging you off. "I know you won't stop hearing or seeing me. You and your emails never leave me alone."

Before you can even scoff, Minghao waves him onto the boat. "Okay, okay, just board." Chan grins widely, bowing his head a little in thanks before practically skipping up the gangway and joining the two gods. From the looks on their faces, he's definitely gloating about passing this quiz with flying colors. You hear your name again, and you find Minghao's eyes trained right on you. You take a deep breath and nod. Honesty. You can do honesty. That's easy. You're always incredibly honest; it's a trait many people have actually hated about you—specifically, Wonwoo. "You are not dead," Minghao observes. "You ask for passage into and out of the Duat as a living being." You nod. "Why?" "I want to help." That's an easy one. "Why?" You pause. "Because I care…" you say hesitantly, unsure what kind of answer the question demands. "Why?" You huff now, feeling like you're talking to a toddler. "Because we should all care?"

"Is that why you do what you do?" Minghao asks. "Your occupation?" You nod. "Yes. People always come together in the face of disaster. I want to be helpful to someone on their worst day." Minghao makes a noise of understanding like he's found the actual question he wants to ask you. "Is there anything you would not give to help someone on their worst day?" You tense at the question. It's a sticking point with Seungcheol and even your coworkers—you run into danger without thinking twice about it. You'll fling yourself into a typhoon, you'll head in the direction of the tsunami, and you'll get between two warring gods. All signs point to the answer no. You've already put your life at risk several times. You feel Seungcheol's gaze bore into you from where he stands on the boat, and you can practically hear him begging you to tell Minghao you would not give your life to help. You can't appease your god. "No," you say, fidgeting under his burning eyes as you try not to meet them. Minghao nods slowly. "Your devotion to protecting others is admirable." You wait for another question but it doesn't come. "Though it is a shame how negligent you are of yourself."

You glare at the ferryman. "I'm not negligent of myself!" "Oh, that was not a question," Minghao informs you before gesturing to the gangway. "You may board the boat. I hereby grant your humans safe passage into and out of the Duat." You make your way onto the cedar, insisting you're not negligent of yourself the entire way there. "God forbid a girl save a life or two!" "Trust me, I am sure Horus would forbid it if he had the power to," Minghao mutters, taking the oar and beginning to row you all away from the bank. "Quite the pair you two are—one selfish enough to forsake a god for you, the other selfless enough to waste her life and die for a stranger who would never do the same." "I think he wants to fight," you tell Chan. "No, no, he definitely doesn't," he counters. "That's all you."

To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: Quick question

Do you think I have a martyr complex? To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question Oh god, is your life already in danger? Also, what carrier do you have that allows you to email me from the underworld? Joshua Hong Director of Operations UN Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question

NO, I am on a boat on the Nile and the person (god? Unclear) who owns it thinks I'm self-negligent!!!

To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question Fork found in kitchen To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question I can't stand you. To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question

If this is really bothering you, I will try to be serious. Yes, you kind of have a martyr complex, and I know you think that's a requirement for the job, but your "whatever it takes" attitude can be really put you in danger sometimes. Your selflessness is a huge part of the reason why I hired you and why you're such an asset to the UN, but you can't help people if you die or are gravely injured. What good are you DEAD? Think of all the people you've helped over your career. What would have happened to them if you hadn't been there? There are so many more people to help. The next time you want to throw yourself in the way of danger, I would invite you to think about that. You have a team for a reason. There. Is that OK?

To: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> From: You <yn.ln@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question Yeah. That's ok. thx. To: You <yn.ln@unocha> From: J. Hong <joshua.hong@unocha> Subject: RE: Quick question Stay safe.

You're not sure where the Nile flowed from Earth to the Duat. Even when Minghao docks the boat once more and tells you you've arrived, you're not sure you believe you're anywhere other than a few miles downriver from where you started. Everything looked the same at first. Then, Seungcheol and Vernon started leading you and Chan through fields that became gold, under skies that gave way to galaxies, and alongside a river made of memories. The souls you saw weren't the zombie-like versions of themselves you expected; they looked like you and Chan. They played with children, tilled the fields, fished in the river, ate together. They came from all different times, and still, they lived together so harmoniously. "You are too comfortable," Seungcheol says as you pass the latest group of souls. You frown, more surprised he's talking to you than anything else. "What?"

"With the Duat," he clarifies, walking slower to allow Chan and Vernon to lead. "You are too comfortable. You smile at the souls and you look like you want to bathe in the river." You shrug. "Would it be bad—" "Yes," he says abruptly, stopping and circling his fingers around your wrist. "Yes. It would be bad to do that. To get comfortable here. It is meant to be comforting because this is for the dead." He stares at you hard. "You are not dead. Do you understand?" You wriggle your wrist out of his grip and nod as you continue walking. "I understand, Seungcheol. You don't have to talk to me like I'm a child." "I am not talking to you like a child." "You are," you insist. "You're also acting like one. If you're upset with me, you should just communicate that instead of ignoring me or being cold." "I do not want you here."

"Yeah, no kidding," you grumble. "You should be safe at home." "I should be wherever you are," you say, stopping once more to face him. You glance at the other two to make sure they're out of earshot, and when you confirm they are, you look at the god before you. He watches you cautiously. "You told me if we… did what we did, that it would mean I'm yours. That you're mine." "Yes," he agrees immediately, taking a step forward and crowding your space. "And you are. I am." "Well, to me, that means we do the hard things together," you tell him. "We lean on each other. When you need help, I help you. I don't stand on the sidelines and watch you and wait for you to come back."

"And you—will you let me help you?" he asks, voice low. You glare up at him, knowing where his question is going. "For once in your life, will you let someone else take the burden? Will you let someone else help?" "I—" you clamp your mouth shut before your denial can make its way out. You shake your head, thinking of the emails Joshua sent minutes before your phone became useless. You have a team for a reason. Isn't that a big part of why you love what you do? Because you get to do it with people you love, too? "Yes," you finally say, nodding when Seungcheol raises a doubtful eyebrow at you. "I recognize that is something I can work on, and I will work on it. I will ask for and accept help when I need it." "Good," he breathes, resting a palm against your cheek and sweeping his thumb back and forth. "I am sorry for behaving like a child." You smile at the resentment in his voice from being compared to one. "I am just… scared. I am not used to being that way, and you scare me. You being so near to death scares me."

"I'm scared too, but not as much when I'm with you," you tell him. "I know I'm safe when I'm with you." He smiles at that, leaning down to catch your lips in a chaste but sweet kiss. "I didn't come to worry you or be a distraction. I came to make sure you have everything you need to come back in one piece." He nods, sighing and letting his hands fall to yours. "I know. My fear is my problem to deal with. You have proven time and time and again that your presence makes the difference. I am lucky to have as fierce a woman as you at my side." You blush, slapping his shoulder as you push him away. "Okay, big guy, relax before I beg you to take me in the middle of a field in the underworld."

Your god smirks—sleazy and smug—and you hate that it works on you. You groan, stomping away from him and toward Vernon and Chan, who stopped at the river's edge, waiting for the two of you to catch up. "Excellent incentive to survive," he comments, trailing after you. Once you catch up to the other two, you walk on for what simultaneously feels like seconds and days. You're glad it isn't just you when Chan comments on it and he's promptly informed that time is not linear or even truly real in this world. Both of you are too mortal to want to understand that and ask no further questions. You have no idea how long it's been since you were a passenger on Minghao's boat when you hear what sounds like a large waterfall. Not long after that, Chan spots smoke in the distance. As you walk toward it, the sky becomes darker and darker, until it's pitch black—until it feels so suffocatingly close, you're convinced you've entered a cave. "Stay close," Seungcheol murmurs to the group, though you know the message is meant for you when you feel his hand squeeze your wrist briefly. "I am sticking to you like glue whether you like it or not," Chan informs him, practically cowering into Vernon's side, unperturbed by how many times the god elbows him away.

"Let the record show, I do not," he hisses, yanking his arm away when Chan escalates to grabbing it. Just as you think your eyes are adjusting to the dark, the void is suddenly backlit by clusters of fires, the source of the smoke Chan pointed out earlier. They're scattered about erratically, burning all sorts of hues. Seungcheol stops your group, raising a finger to his mouth as he looks around. You do the same. On first glance, it looks like someone threw embers around like confetti, but you notice the clusters crowding downriver. You tap Vernon on the shoulder and point quietly. He understands immediately, jerking his head to his nephew to accompany him. They walk off, and Chan sidles up next to you. "Now what?" he whispers. "Now, we try to survive," you whisper back. "Come on." You follow the two around the bend of the river, which either bleeds black now or reflects the infinite void of the black above you—you're not sure which. The river ends in violent rapids that empty out into a waterfall, just as you suspected. Ahead of you, both gods summon their weapons, making you two freeze in place. You crane your neck to see what they're defending against and see nothing but a huge mansion. It isn't until you muster up the courage to keep moving and reach the gods that you realize it's not a mansion. It's a boat. Golden, brilliant, and so magnificently large, you feel a little scared of it. And it's washed ashore. "Ra's boat," Seungcheol whispers to both of you. "He must have been attacked here."

"Right before the falls," Vernon observes. "He was right at the end of the journey." You hear the guilt in his voice, and your fingers twitch to rub his back in comfort. You refrain, though, unsure if the gesture would just make Seungcheol's uncle smite you. "Eyes on Apep?" Seungcheol asks, head on a swivel as he surveys his surroundings. "No, but—" The rumbling starts so subtly, you mistake it for the thunderous force of the river, but it becomes strong enough to bring you and Chan to your knees, both of you more than happy to stay crouched in the tall grass while the gods stay upright. The rumbling stops, and just as you're about to ask what the fuck that was, the river explodes, black water shooting up like a geyser before raining down on all of you. You clamp your hands over your ears as you hear the most sickening, earth-shattering roar.

"Get out of here!" Seungcheol shouts at the two of you. "Find Ra! We'll hold him off!" Chan wastes no time, dragging you away just as you realize what you're staring at. You mistook it for the blackened sky at first, but when the light of a fire catches a reflection for a brief second, you realize you're staring at a scale—at hundreds of scales. Colossal is the only word you can think of to describe Apep. It suddenly makes sense to you that his body moving through the world created an earthquake so large, it triggered a tsunami. If you thought what you felt in India was fear, you're not sure what it is you feel now. You're not sure how two gods in these tiny vessels are supposed to stand a chance against a goliath like Apep. "Come on!" Chan grunts at you through gritted teeth, fingers so tight around your bicep as he drags you, you're sure you'll be bruised if you survive to see tomorrow.

"Chan," you rasp, barely able to find your voice as you force yourself to look away from the snake that just burst out of the river. You both shriek, getting thrown to the ground as Apep's body lands, causing rolling quakes under you. The sound is followed by the nauseating noises of weapons sinking into flesh, screams, roars, more earthquake-inducing strikes to the ground. The gods have started the fight. "You good?" Chan asks, scrambling to his knees already while you remain on your stomach. You can hear him but you can't. You can see him but you can't. You can understand what he's saying but you can't. "Yes, you're good. Come on, up, up." "Chan," you feel your mouth shape the syllable again. "Chan, no."

"What?" You grip his forearms, dragging him back down to his knees when he gets to his feet. He looks at you like you're crazy. "What are you doing?" he asks frantically. "We have to find Ra! Get up!" "No, Chan," you gasp for air, your chest tightening and making it feel impossible to. You press a hand to your ribs, mouth opening and closing like a dumb fish as you try and fail to breathe. "Oh my god, you are not having a panic attack right now!" he whines, looking between you and the river quickly. He drags you lower until you're both on your stomachs, hiding in the tall grass away from the massive, murderous serpent. "Okay, okay. Look at me." You follow directions, Chan a blurry mess as you realize your eyes have filled with tears. "How… how are they going to—how—" "Hey, that is not our business," Chan says, shaking his head as he squeezes your hands so hard, you want to rip them out of his grip. He doesn't let you, forcing the pain to ground you. "Our business is finding Ra, okay? We don't look at the snake, we don't think about the snake, we don't even know the word, 'snake,' okay?"

Your tears start to roll down your face as your chest tightens with each instance of the word, snake. You shake your head, thinking of Seungcheol getting obliterated with one swipe of the tail. It's like two ants trying to kill you. Laughable. Impossible. "Vernon has fought this thing every night for thousands of years," Chan reminds you. "Successfully. And Seungcheol is an even better fighter than he is. They're going to be fine. The best thing we can do right now is find Ra." You breathe out through your mouth, squeezing Chan's hands back now. "The faster we find Ra, the faster we get out of here and away from that thing," he reminds you. "But if we keep laying here, twiddling our thumbs, they will have to fight even longer, and we—oh okay, we're moving!"

Chan doesn't miss a beat as he gets up and runs after you, sprinting toward the massive boat. You reach the base of it, overwhelmed by the mountain in front of you, cursing under your breath as you think about how long it's going to take to search for the sun god in this thing. "What the fuck?" you whisper, looking around for a ladder to hoist you up onto the deck. "No, there," Chan points at splatters of blood in the sand of the bank, leading behind and away from the boat. "He got out." "How do you know?" you ask. "He could just be—" "Apep would've ripped the boat apart if Ra was still in there," Chan says. You don't fight him on it, knowing his experience writing the dummy guides will probably keep you alive right now. "He must have gotten out. Come on!"

He leads you around the boat, where the splatters quickly disappear, leaving you no trail to follow. "Fuck," he breathes. "Okay, look that way." He points. "I'll look—" "What the hell?" you breathe, frowning as you follow his finger toward the riverbank, where you find a tiny bird. He raises his eyebrows at you and looks over his shoulder. "What?" he asks. You look at the bird, who tilts its head at you as it hops a few times in place. "It's a bird." "Okay?!" he shrieks impatiently. "Who cares?! We—" "It's my bird!" you clarify, frowning as you walk closer to it. You walk alongside the boat, the bird hopping around just past it, closer to the water. "Your b—"

You both scream in horror as a black scaled tail slams into the wet sand where the bird had just been, the force of it sending you both careening backward onto your asses. "No!" Chan screams so loudly, his voice cracks. "That did not just fucking happen! We did not just watch a fucking baby bird get pulverized! NO!" You wail nonsensically, slapping Chan's arms like he's supposed to be able to do something. The tail slithers away, and you flinch, ready to see the flattened body of your bird. It leaves nothing in its wake, and you both pause, confused. "Where…?" "Is it too tiny?" he asks. "Maybe it's still on the tail…?" Your heads snap to the right when you hear soft chirps, both of you collapsing into the sand with a groan of relief when you find the bird hopping on a flat rock protruding from the water.

"Oh, you son of a bitch," you breathe, hand pressed against your chest, your heart fluttering wildly underneath it. Ironically enough, the stress of thinking you witnessed the slaughter of a bird regulates your nervous system. "What?!" you shout at it as it chirps and hops. "What are you doing here?! What do you want?!" "Follow it," Chan says, crawling toward it. When he reaches the end of the boat's shadow, he pauses, craning his neck around to see where Apep and the gods are. You join him, poking your head out of the shadow to see past him. Seungcheol and Vernon move so fast, you can't keep track of them for more than a second at a time. The snake, thankfully, is too large to move as quickly and deftly, his body sliced open in several places the gods successfully struck him. "Okay, come on," Chan whispers, crawling into the open toward the water.

"Why are we following the bird?" you ask, crawling clumsily and quickly to follow as close to Chan as possible. "You followed the bird at the hotel," Chan says. "They know what you have to do!" You tilt your head but don't argue. You have no idea what else to do, and the birds have never steered you wrong. You reach the edge of the river, the bird just out of reach as it hops on the stone. You realize there are a series of stones the two of you can use as a path across to the rushing waterfall. You groan. "Do not tell me you want us to go to the waterfall," you hiss at the bird. It tilts its head at you before it flies off the rock and several rocks down—in the exact direction you just told it you didn't want to go.

The two of you groan. "Why are we here?" Chan sighs. "Apparently, you have insane FOMO," you mutter, pulling yourself into a low crouch. You glance at Apep and find him entirely preoccupied with the two gods. You hop onto the first stone, finding walking across the first few very easy while the waters are still calm where you are. It's when you reach the fork in the river that separates the rapids that gets your heart racing. The bird waits patiently, watching you as you move. "Hey, buddy," you whisper, looking over your shoulder. Apep swipes at Seungcheol with his tail, and the god narrowly dodges it before sinking his spear into the snake. You force yourself to look away before you see something you don't want to. "Where are we going? Hm? Care to share?"

"So does marrying Seungcheol make you Dr. Dolittle now, or…?" Chan deadpans. "What's going on here?" You glare at him. "So following the bird isn't crazy but talking to it is?" "It's clearly leading us somewhere. It is not talking to you." You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the bird. You find it with its back to you, still hopping and fluttering its wings as it looks past the waterfall. You frown, scooting to the very edge of the rock, as close to the water as you can get without entirely tumbling in.

"Oh fuck," you sigh. "Chan." "What?" You point to where exactly the bird was leading you. Past the rapids, where the waterfall curves away from you, you can see a ledge just under the cascading water, where the body of a man is sprawled, unconscious. Where Ra must have gotten swept in the current at some point, was swallowed by the falls, and had just enough strength to catch himself on a rock before careening to the very bottom—so far down, you can't even see where the water lands. "Of course," Chan says, looking away from the ledge and up at the never-ending black above you. "Of course he's in the goddamn waterfall because where the fuck else would he be? Surely, not in an easily accessible place like the very safe field behind us."

You sit back on your heels, settling into a low squat as you try to think of the best way to get to Ra that won't require rappelling down a waterfall. The bird flies onto your knee now that it's done guiding you. You stare down at it. "I don't suppose you have a huge strong bird friend that can just carry Ra up here?" you murmur. It tilts its head at you. "Yeah, figured." "Okay, a plan," Chan sighs. When he doesn't continue, you raise your eyebrows at him. "What? You're the boss! What's the plan?"

"Philippines, 2018," you start. He nods. "The floods." You nod. "Remember that lady who wouldn't evacuate until someone got her fat cat out of the tree?" Chan sighs. "Yes." "You climbed that massive tree, got that obese cat out of there even while it was actively attacking you, and climbed back down safely." "You think Ra has claws?" he asks, zoning out in thought. "Mmm, no," you say, unsure. "But if he does, I doubt he'd use them on his savior." "Oooh, savior," he repeats, eyes lighting up. "Okay. I got this. I have great upper body strength. Who else is gonna save Ra? You?" He laughs and you try not to glare at him. It's true, you have very little upper body strength. "You climb down," you say, flinching a little when the ground quakes again. "You go get Ra. I'll find something to pull you both up with. I don't pull you up because how would I do that, but I help spot you as you climb back up."

"No," he protests. "Get one of the gods to pull me up. It'll take them a second. Just—" "No, that will risk Apep noticing we found Ra. He'll eat Ra!" "Y/N, I appreciate your faith in me, but I cannot carry a grown ass man up the side of a cliff, while I'm being pelted by hundreds of gallons of black fucking water." Your retort dies in your mouth, and you deflate. He's right. Even just sending him down without a spot is insane. You find yourself nodding before you can figure out how you're going to lure one of the gods away. "Okay. Yeah. Stay here. I'll find you something to help climb down with on the boat."

Chan agrees, crouching low as you head back to the bank. Your bird takes it upon itself to hop onto your head, its tiny claws clinging to the roots of your hair to keep from falling off. The fight has moved to the fields, where Apep freely dives head first into the ground, exploding out of it like a demonic weasel and sending one or both gods flying repeatedly. You try not to pay attention to it as you find the ladder to the boat—a gold-strewn rope leading to the deck. "Please tell me there's rope up there," you mutter mostly to yourself as you hoist yourself up the first rung. You feel the bird flutter off you and up onto the deck. "Oh okay, bye! Thank you for your service!" You shriek a little as the force of Apep landing jolts you against the boat, the rope ladder serving no stability for you. You grunt as the quakes stop and you're able to pull yourself up another rung. It takes you a few moments to hear the chirps in all the chaos, but when you do, you look up to find the bird, more gold-strewn rope in its tiny beak. You stare up at it, dumbfounded. There's no possible way it understood you, did it? And no way it's able to pull what can be several pounds of rope for you. And is now moving like it's trying to—

You screech, throwing your weight to the other side of the ladder and swinging away as the heavy, coiled rope falls from where the bird shoved it off the edge of the deck. It just barely misses you, the wind of it hurtling past slapping you in the face. It lands with a loud thump, the sand below you flying about. You look down at it before looking back up at the bird, flinching violently when you find it directly in front of your face, on the same ladder rung your hand is on. "Jesus Christ," you sigh, forehead coming to rest on your hand. The bird takes it as an invitation to hop back on your head. "Thank you, tiny bird. Thank you." "That was fast," Chan says when you return to him, the golden rope coiled around your body. You buckle under the weight of it, practically colliding into your subordinate when you come to a stop. "I am Dr. Dolittle," you pant, scrambling to remove the rope from your body and transferring it to his.

"Okay, we can expand on that more later," Chan says, nodding. He takes a deep breath before he gives you his best smile. "I'll see you later then." "Hey," you seize the collar of his shirt and yank him toward you, ignoring the way his eyes bulge in surprise and fear. "You better stay alive or you will not be getting that fucking raise." "Yes, ma'am," he murmurs. You release him slowly before bringing him into a hug. "Thank you for being the best partner in all of this," you say. "Ditto," he returns, rubbing a circle into your back before gently pushing you away. "Now go get me some help and get a god." "Yup," you nod, clapping once as you move onto the next objective. "Good luck."

You leave Chan to his task and focus on yours. When you make it back to the bank, you find Apep in the river again, his black skin hard to make out in the equally black water. You take the bird in your grasp, setting it down in the sand and crouching down. "Thank you so much for your help," you say to it. "But now you should stay here because I am off to do a very dangerous thing, and we cannot have you getting hurt." The bird tilts its head at you. You smile as you run a finger down its feathers. "Okay, go find some safe cover!" you whisper, nudging it gently with a knuckle. It hops but doesn't go anywhere, and it's clear you're going to have to leave first. "Bye-bye!"

You stand once more and sigh, wiping your clammy hands on your pants. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you run to the nearest god—Vernon, perched in a tree and concentrating hard on the water as he tries to pick Apep out. He notices you running at him and double takes, waving a hand erratically and shaking his head in an attempt to get you to stop. You glance toward the river, no sign of Apep surfacing yet. "What are you doing?!" he hisses at you as you start climbing up the tree to join him. The god is mostly as you left him, and you're glad to find that the worst you see on him is a few scrapes and bruises. He rolls his eyes and grabs you by the collar when you slip trying to pull yourself up. He yanks, easily getting you up on the branch with him. Chan is right; they'll get him up off the cliff in no time. "Found Ra," you wheeze. You've never done this much cardio in your life. "Just past the waterfall. On a ledge."

Vernon squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Of course." "Yeah, yeah, of course," you pant, waving a hand to dismiss this part of the conversation you've already had to go through. "Chan is getting him. He has rope." "Rope," he repeats, unimpressed. "Mhm," you nod quickly, pressing a hand to your chest like that will convince your heart to stop pounding so hard. "He just needs someone much stronger than me to help pull him up once he has Ra." Vernon groans, eyes coming back to the water. You look down. You're not that high up, but he has a good enough view of the river that he should be able to see Apep. If he does, you have no idea because you definitely do not. "Um, where is he?" you whisper.

"Fuck if I know," he grumbles, eyes coming up to a tree much taller across the river. You don't see what he's looking at, but when you see the glint of gold within the leaves, you're sure Seungcheol is perched there, opposite his uncle, with his golden spear. "Coward dove into the water just as it was getting good." "Good?" you ask, just barely catching your breath. "Yeah, see that?" he asks, using the long-snouted animal at the end of his sceptre to point at splotches of black in the field. You nod, noting that it looks like a huge oil spill. "That's his blood." "Oh," you breathe, your stomach twisting. You look away immediately. "Fantastic. Good. Uh, great job." "Thanks," Vernon snorts. "Okay, I'll help Chan. Just stay here and—"

You're left to assume what the rest of his sentence was because the water beneath you suddenly splits as a vortex of brightly colored fire blasts through it and right into the sky. You flinch and Vernon's fist closes around the back of your top to keep you from startling right out of the tree. You turn to him and glare. "What?" "Stop handling me like a toddler," you grunt, ripping your top free of his grasp. You adjust your collar before looking back at the river. Apep emerges, slithering toward the tree Seungcheol is in. "Okay, here's my window," Vernon says, making to leave the tree. He pauses and turns over his shoulder to give you a stern look. "Do not leave this tree or so help me god, I will turn your friend into snake food." You scoff, mouth opening to tell him where he can shove his threats, but the god is gone in the next second, and when you peek around the leaves, you don't see him anywhere in the vicinity.

Your breath catches as you're forced to watch Seungcheol evacuate his tree just as Apep sets it aflame, its leaves engulfed in a blaze of blue so hot, you can feel it even across from the river. Your fingers tighten around the branch Vernon left you on as the snake chases your god further into the field, bobbing and weaving to dodge his strikes. The only solace you have is the trail of thick, black blood it leaves behind everywhere it slithers. "He loses the fight every night," you mutter in an attempt to self-soothe. You find Chan is much better at it than you are. "Literally every, single night. Winning is an anomaly for him. Winning is the normal for Seungcheol. It's fine." You repeat the words to yourself for what feels like years as you watch the two dance back and forth, Seungcheol clearly wondering where Vernon is and looking around every chance he can. Apep loses when it's Ra and Set. You try to shake the thought away but it's too late. As soon as you think it, you can't stop.

Seungcheol needs Vernon. Apep can't be taken down by one god. Even someone as powerful as Ra needs help warding him off. Did you just fuck your husband over? You turn to look toward the falls, dismayed when you can't see any sign of the three men emerging yet. Chan said it would be fast. Where the hell is Vernon? You gasp as the tree threatens to send you flying out of it. You look up to find Seungcheol has managed to pin the snake on his back, his tail thrashing against the ground wildly. He thrusts his spear into his eye, and the Duat is pierced with an ear-splitting scream you think Joshua and Jeonghan have to be able to hear from the mortal world. Apep's body stops thrashing, his tail falling one, last time. Seungcheol's chest heaves as he yanks his spear back out, groaning as he jumps off the reptile's body and walks toward the river.

You scramble down the tree ungracefully, falling the last few feet down, landing on your knees but paying no mind as you stumble forward to Seungcheol. Your god narrows his eyes at you from across the river, the expression quickly turning into a glare when he realizes you aren't a hallucination. "What are you doing?!" he bellows, managing to sound like he's right in front of you. "I needed help!" you shout back, nowhere near loud enough to project your voice across the body of water. He doesn't hear you but doesn't ask you to repeat yourself, simply walking to the bank. He moves like he's about to take a step, but his foot pauses mid-air as he looks down at the water. "Seungcheol?" you call. "What is it?" He frowns. He mutters something to himself you can't make out. He bends down, cups a hand and gathers water into it, and brings it up. He lets it seep through his fingers. Black.

He catches your eye at the same time the ground rumbles. He whips back around toward Apep, both of you horrified to find just the tip of his tail as he disappears underground again. Seungcheol shouts your name, louder than you've ever heard him. "RUN!" You don't think twice, sprinting the opposite direction as fast as you can. The sound of the earth beneath your feet separating starts to crescendo—so loud, you have no idea where the snake is coming at you from—before you feel the actual rolling. When you do, it's impossible to keep yourself upright, stumbling repeatedly like you never learned how to walk as the world beneath you rocks back and forth. When the breath is knocked out of you, you're sure Apep has swallowed you whole from the ground up. You squeeze your eyes shut, not enough air to even scream. But then, you feel fingers around your waist, and someone is twisting you mid-air, situating you so you're on top as the two of you crash into the ground, sliding several yards with Seungcheol under you, taking the brunt of it.

You finally slow to a stop, your god groaning under you. "Ow." "Are you okay?!" you scream in his face, making him wince. "Are you okay?" he asks, blinking several times as he weakly lifts each arm to make sure you have no injuries. "Oh, good." He sighs. He looks like he's about to rest when the ground jolts again, and suddenly, you're upright on your feet again. "Where the hell is Vernon?" "Helping Cha—" Chan's name turns into a full-on scream as a mass of black erupts from the dirt in front of you. Seungcheol shoves you behind him, throwing his spear up just in time to keep Apep's tail from coming down on the both of you. "Go," he grits through his teeth, struggling under the weight of the snake. "Please." You don't make him ask twice; you're here to help, not distract him. You run toward the boat when your body suddenly stops, incapable of working. Everything stops working. Your heart, your lungs, your eyes. You hear your name somewhere behind you, but its drowned out by the voice inside your head.

Ah. Pretty, pretty, little girl, a voice calls to you. It reverberates through your entire being, and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. Where have you been hiding? It has been ssso long since I have ssseen a human. You're given enough control to squeeze your eyes shut, but it proves to be a mistake. As soon as you do, you're plunged into a void inside your mind, endless nothing for as far as you can fathom. You don't see him in the black—it's impossible to. But you feel him, and that's worse. "Hello, pretty." You flinch away from the voice, falling to your ass and scrambling backward immediately. "Oh no, darling," he calls, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "No need to be ssso scared." "Get away from me!" you scream, throwing an arm across the space in front of you. Apep chuckles when you come into contact with nothing. "I have looked for a hossst for a millennia," he informs you. "As you probably know, that is impossible, trapped here, in the Duat… where no living human wandersss… until you. How foolish of your god to bring you right to me." "I will never be your vessel," you seethe, hugging yourself in a weak attempt at protecting yourself against something you can't see. "Why not? I am a magnanimous person. I will still allow you time to yourssself… I will still allow you time with your beloved." "You aren't even a person!"

His laugh is dark and velvety, and it has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. "That is true. Unfortunate. I do need your permission… what can I do to convince you?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" His next words brush against the shell of your ear from behind, making you cringe away. "Not even… eternity?" You feel his presence disappear from your side, and you don't know where he's gone off to until he speaks again, directly in front of you. "Eternity with your beloved? You will never have to die. Never have to be without him. Just you. And Horusss. Forever. Does that not sound lovely to you?" "He would never have me with you inside. And I would never want that." "Your moralsss bore me." You scream, tears springing to your eyes when you feel something thick and heavy wrap around your middle, binding your arms to your torso. What feels like a large hand squeezes your cheeks together, roughly bringing your face up to where you imagine Apep's is. You whimper when you try to wriggle away and the restraints around your middle tighten so painfully, you can no longer breathe.

"Or, I can force my way in, and it can be you…" You thrash when you feel a tongue drag from the hollow of your throat to your jaw. "And me… forever… no Horusss, no Ssset. No… anything." Your mouth falls in a silent scream as he constricts you until you're sure your body is going to implode under his touch. "Doesn't that sound—" The black is punctured by Apep's own inhuman scream, making you convulse as his hold on you loosens until you're on your own again. You open your eyes to the moment you found Seungcheol in Korea. The way he looked down at you, clinging to the bus stop, entirely unimpressed with your attempts to save him. You see your mother taking you with her as she donated blood after a disaster in another country, explaining that you give when you're more fortunate. And you are always more fortunate. Joshua, extending his hand to you on your first day on the job, smiling so brightly, not-at-all exhausted by your endless antics yet. His boss, Jeonghan, grinning at you and telling you he knew you were going to be fun—he could tell. Seungcheol, in Singapore, a small quirk of the lips as you spoke to each other, watching the ocean. Seungcheol, coming back to the UN with you. Seungcheol's cheeks stuffed full of barbecued brisket, washing it down with beer until it dribbled down his chin. Seungcheol's arms around you, his mouth on you, his promises in your ear—filling you up in every sense of the word.

You gasp as your head breeches the surface of water you didn't realize you were under, strong arms forcing you up into the air to breathe. You sputter several times, coughing and choking as a hand frantically pushes your hair away from your face, the other holding you close to a hard body you think is familiar. "Seungcheol!" you scream, stunned by the fear you hear in your own voice. "Cheol, Cheo—" "I'm here," he breathes, pressing you to him and patting your back as you continue to spit up water. "I'm here. It's okay. You're fine. I'm here, my heart. I'm here." You don't know when your wheezing calms or when your heart stops racing. But when it does, you're on the riverbank once more, laid out on your back with Seungcheol's face hovering over you. "What happened?" you ask, frowning. "He… he had you," your god says like he's admitting something horrible he, himself, did. "He took you under the water. So I went after you."

"And did you eviscerate the fucker?" you ask, voice cracking around your words a little. Your throat still burns from throwing up river water. River water that tasted like… Chocopies? Seungcheol affords you a single, disbelieving laugh. "Yes, love. I did. I said I would protect you, did I not?" You nod, gesturing for him to help you sit up. He does, handling you so gently for such a strong warrior, you think you might weep. "You did. Thank you. Thank you…" "What did he tell you?" he asks, face fixed in a frown. You stare at the river, comforted in the fact that Apep is absolutely gone—at least for the night—because the water is made of memories and the sky boasts the galaxy again. "He wanted a vessel," you tell him. His hold on you tightens and you shake your head. "I told him to fuck off." "That's my girl." The words make you smile, and at the sight of it, Seungcheol surges forward to kiss you. It's desperate and clumsy and messy, but it's exactly what you need and want after today—or however many days it's been in this timeless world. "I love you," he reminds you when he breaks away. "I love you," you return. "Where are the others?"

Seungcheol frowns. "I thought you would know. I have no idea where—" He's interrupted by chirps, and your gaze goes to the tiny bird resting atop his wet head. You stifle a giggle. "I have a friend who knows." Your husband smiles. "Do you now?" You nod. He looks pleased. "They laughed at me, but I was right." "About what?" you ask as he helps you up, the bird flying away, knowing you both will be following. "You being the future mother of falcons," he says simply, making your face burn hot. You slap his shoulder and shove him, but he goes nowhere, just laughing at you. "Come on, my love."

You follow the tiny bird to where Chan tied the rope to a questionable looking branch growing out of the side of the waterfall. Seungcheol ultimately relents to your demands he bring you down to the three men, who seem to be arguing on the ledge. "Oh great!" the deity sprawled on the ground that you assume is Ra shouts. "More of you to tell me to go do my job. Has it ever occurred to you that I want to take a break?!" Your brows rise at the tantrum you're immediately met with. Chan sees your soaked state and opens his mouth to ask until you shake your head. His jaw snaps shut and he nods once, gesturing at Ra. "It turns out the sun god is a baby," he says, sighing heavily.

The tiny bird rests on your head, chirping at Ra in what you know must be disapproval. "I am not a baby!" he insists. Vernon groans, leaning against his sceptre. "We have a snake to kill." "Done," Seungcheol grunts. "Just need to bring the sun home now." Ra glares. "What is the point of anything?" he asks, letting his head loll back so he can stare at the planets above him. "I rise and I set and I rise and I set. I fight every night, travel every day. And for what?" You pout, dropping into a low squat and hugging your knees as you listen to the man's voice fall into something less whiny and more helpless. "Humanity is lost. They do not care about each other, let alone the sun or the gods or Apep! Leave me here. I must rest." "That's not true," you refute. He looks over at you and frowns. "Who are you?"

"I am Y/N L/N, Storm Chaser, Protector of Citizens, and Mortal Enemy of Jeon Wonwoo and the WMO," you inform him. "And I would know best the state of humanity." Seungcheol nods when Ra looks to him for confirmation. "Humans can get so lost, it's true. From the outside looking in, it might look like we hate each other. Sometimes, it feels like that from the inside too," you admit, sighing. "But I see disasters every day. Over and over again, I watch strangers help strangers. I see neighbors rebuilding together. I see children playing and laughing in the aftermath of the worst day of their lives." You think of Minghao now, and you look at the people around you. "I've never known how to ask for help—it seems like you may know a thing or two about that," you say, assuming if he's this burnt out and exhausted, he's never thought to ask another deity to ferry the sun overnight. "Still, these gods and this human—they come to my rescue every single time. We may not know about the gods or the sun or…" You can't quite bring yourself to say his name. "Monsters. But we still carry on, believing in either you crazy assholes—" Vernon snorts. "—or each other. Or at the very least… we carry on knowing the sun will rise again tomorrow.

"There are billions of people outside of the Duat waiting for you. Waiting for the sun to rise. Now, you may rest, but you cannot give up," you tell him. "We will not let let you. We're going to help you bring the sun home. All you have to do is get on your boat. Can you do that?" Ra groans, letting his head hit the rock below him dramatically. After a moment, he raises one, limp arm. "Carry me to my solar barque, Set." Vernon glares at nothing in particular but obeys anyway. "Dr. Dolittle and god whisperer?" Chan murmurs as Vernon picks the sun god up easily and starts climbing back up the cliffside. You grin, feeling the bird on your head hop. "I think so!" you say genuinely. He sighs. "This is insane. My future kids aren't even going to believe any of this." "Not a chance in Duat."

MISSION SUMMARY REPORT MISSION ID: UNOCHA/EMEA/0808-EGY LEAD OFFICER: Seungcheol Choi, Uniter of the Two Lands, Lord of the Sky, Protector of the Pharaoh, and Avenger of his father before him, Osiris, god of the underworld, the afterlife, and rebirth — and consultant to the UN Office of Humanitarian Affairs DATE ISSUED: 3 May 2026 DATE COMPLETED: 18 May 2026 DURATION: 360 hours DISASTER CLASSIFICATION: Active threat to the sun KEY OBSERVATIONS:

I am told these reports are meant to begin with "key observations." YOUR first observation should be that I will not be doing this "reporting" ever again. I am only doing so because my wife requested it.

MY first observation is that humans are too eager to run into danger

My second observation is that they will continue to do so no matter how closely they brush against death. I used to find this irritating. I have come to appreciate human resilience. My wife is made of it.

Officer Lee Chan continued taking notes during our battle with Apep and during his time with Ra. Here they are: 1. Consultants Choi and Vernon can, in fact, bleed 2. I have a new phobia of snakes 3. Officer L/N should be president of the world, but only if they let me go with her 4. She thinks the river tastes like Chocopies. I think they taste like Starbursts 5. The sun is VERY whiny. Everyone please make a point to go and get vitamin D every day to appease him.

I do not understand most of this

Consultant Vernon was difficult to work with at times, but he was a "team player," as Officer Lee put it. He also has not left since mission completion, joining the team for meetings, meals, and what Y/N calls "hang-outs" (Important Note: NOT offerings). I am growing accustomed to his presence. Perhaps I enjoy it.

Ra is on hiatus. In the interim, Vernon and I are ferrying the sun at night with the help of Mehen and Isis for extra caution. Apep has not stood a chance so far. The sun has resumed its expected schedule, and we have received word from Ra, who enjoys downtime in Norway, where he says the sun never sets. Perhaps he should take this annual leave to prevent what Y/N calls "burnout."

All in all, I would consider the turnout highly favorable

OFFICER ASSESSMENT: I do not understand what else I could possibly add beyond my observations of the mission. Y/N advised I write about what I have learned. I have learned I loathe snakes and tongues and men. That is all. Y/N advised I take this more seriously. Fine. For thousands of years, I believed my sworn duty was to protect the world and all of humanity. I believed the gods were the reason life continued. I was mistaken. The gods might be the reason the sun rises and sets, but humanity makes the moments in between worth it. In my time as a consultant, I have watched the best of you come together time and again to understand how best to help the rest of the world. You rebuild cities, share food, carry strangers on your backs, and although some of you would be better off on the other end of my spear (Jeon Wonwoo, if Y/N ever allows it), I consider it an honor to be among you.

Through you, mostly through my heart, my most beloved, my wife, my queen consort, my I have been told to "reel it in." Fine. Through you and through her, I have managed to learn something new for the first time in thousands of years. I have learned how to choose kindness and forgiveness and Chocopies when cruelty or resentment or power would have been easier. I was asked what I would be if the world no longer needed a king. I was told I would be worthy. I tried to believe it. I think I have my own answer now. If the world no longer needed a king, I would simply be. I would walk beside the people who save this world every day—my wife chief among them.

I suppose that is what I have learned. If it does not suffice, I invite Joshua Hong to come say that to my face.

RECOMMENDATIONS:

Officer Lee and Officer L/N should receive pay increases immediately

Consultant Vernon should receive recognition for services to humanity not reflected in historical records and a formal apology from historians

I would like an increase of God Gold

I would also like offerings made to my wife in place of whatever this "wedding registry" everyone keeps talking about is. Please shower her in gold, Chocopies, and weapons you would find useful in a fight against a monster. She has asked me to add that you shower her in compliments as well.

I have been informed this is not how recommendations are usually written. I do not care.

PREPARED BY: Seungcheol Choi REVIEWED BY: Joshua Hong, Operations Director; Jeonghan Yoon, Chief of Section [REVIEWER COMMENT] Excellent work. No comments. - J. Hong [REVIEWER COMMENT] Judge-ua Hong has no comments…??? I think he's just scared of you, Seungcheol. Approved on God Gold, approved on raises for Officers L/N and Lee, and approved on Consultant Vernon's recognition. I will work with you on reaching out to the UN's honors committee to secure awards for your team's work on… saving the world. Denied on a formal apology from history. We are not going to apologize on behalf of recorded civilization. IDK how we would even go about that. - J. Yoon

[REVIEWER COMMENT] I am not scared. I am simply thankful everyone is alive!!! - J. Hong [REVIEWER COMMENT] K. - J. Yoon

MISSION STATUS: COMPLETED 

JOIN MY PERMANENT TAG LIST

It has been almost 3 weeks of your job in Choi Enterprise, and everything is going very smoothly. Everyone there is super friendly and helpful. You made friends on the second day of your work. Mind you, you don't open up that easily. So, considering that, you are quite surprised yourself. Everyone was so nice to you, including the boss who was a bit aged, since the first day, but the special three, Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan, really made office time so fun.

The only thing you can complain about is the amount of work they let you do. It's your first job and you really have to experience corporate life, so it's taking time for you to adjust, but that's fine considering the money they pay. Overall, you are having a fun time.

Today, there is a meeting organised in the office so that employees and the staff together can meet the new CEO after Mr. Choi retires next week. According to gossip monger Seungkwan, the next CEO will be Mr. Choi’s son. Everyone is yet to meet and know him, as he was abroad from South Korea for his studies. Everyone is very excited and curious at the same time because no one has any clue how the new CEO is.

At 11 am sharp, Mr. Choi entered the auditorium of the office. But you didn't get a glimpse of his son.

That's weird. You thought.

But your thoughts were interrupted when Mr. Choi started speaking.

“It's a very special moment for me and my family. After all, my son is taking over my spot, and I can't be more proud of him. I have seen him work so hard for this position. Any other person would have taken it for granted and would have not worked so hard. But I have seen him working day and night to prove himself that he was worthy of this position.”

You smiled listening to him. It's a big day for Mr. Choi and his son. And seeing Mr. Choi getting emotional made everyone a bit emotional as well.

“He studied at Seoul High School and graduated with flying colours.”

Seoul High School?

You graduated from Seoul High School as well. You might know him.

“How about you come to the stage, Seungcheol.”

What?

Seungcheol?

You turned back with so much force that you might have snapped your head open. You looked behind and saw Seungcheol standing.

Damn, he looks good.

He always did, but now he looks like a man. A man you can be dependent on. He was all broad and muscular.

He is really hitting the gym hard.

Your mouth was so wide open Seungkwan had to physically close it. That's when you snapped back to reality. You looked at your surroundings and saw Seokmin and Soonyoung laughing while Seungkwan was judging you hard.

“Stop giving him fuck-me eyes.”

Now how will you say that you really don't have to give him fuck-me eyes? He used to fuck you anyway. How can you tell them that this guy is your fucking ex? The ex you promised to get married to, the ex you imagined a future with. Your one and only ex.

“Yaahh, Choi Seungcheol. Come back.” You chased after your boyfriend after he decided to steal your bra. That's normal for him. “No way. Catch me and take it by yourself. Your mom didn't raise a loser.”

He started twirling your bra with his index finger.

“That's not your fucking basketball, Seungcheol. Give it back to me.” You whined at the last part. “If it's so important to you, then why is it in my bag and not on you or in your drawer?” He asked, raising his thick eyebrows. “How would I know that? I know you stole my bra.”

Hearing your accusation, Seungcheol was stunned. He gasped and started sulking. “Why would I steal your bra?” He came closer to you, visibly pouting. “I don't know. Maybe because you're a pervert?”

“A pervert? What do you mean?” You started laughing after seeing his eyes go wide like saucers. “Yah! Why are you laughing?” He whined, complaining to you.

“Maybe because I find you way too cute. Now please give me my bra back, Cheol.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could see his smile. “Fineee. But give me a kiss first.” You chuckled and connected your lips with his. He held your waist to deepen the kiss with a smile on his face.

You both were the school’s sweethearts. All the PDA either made people coo in awe or just gag out of jealousy. You both were attached at the hip even before your relationship. Friends to lovers, they said. You never met anyone like Seungcheol, and it was natural to have a crush on him. But all you could think about was the friendship, and so you always stepped back.

One fine day, when a guy came up to you and asked if you were available, Seungcheol saw red. Before you could even reply, he rejected him on behalf of you. Turns out he was in the same situation as you. He had the fattest crush on you but couldn't do anything due to his fear of damaging the friendship.

Since then, you both became the “IT COUPLE” of your school.

Everything was going great until you realised that Seungcheol had to leave abroad for his studies and had no clue when he would come back. You were scared that he would never return and decide to stay there forever. And as much as you hate to admit it, you were quite dumb at making decisions back then. So you broke up with him, thinking it would hurt less, and eventually you would move on.

Well, jokes on you, because you were far away from moving on. Seeing him after so many years, all you could think about was that you still liked him. Or maybe loved him. You don't know anymore.

Seungcheol stepped onto the stage and started speaking.

“Dad, you're too sweet for this, but it's because of your dedication towards me to make me a better child that I have reached this place.”

Someone please tell him to shut up because it's not helping.

“And I will give my best to make sure that I make this place a safe and comfortable place for everyone.”

“But I also would like to say I might not be as sweet as my dad was. I believe in working more than anything. It doesn't mean that you are being restricted in anything. No, feel free to be who you are. But I want seriousness during work. I really don't like when people just roam–”

Shit.

He saw you.

His mouth parted like a fish. And he forgot where he was. Meeting the love of his life after so many years like this was not what he thought he would feel, but here we are.

“A-and yeah, that's it. It will be a pleasure working here. Thank you.”

Why the hell was he stuttering now?

All you could do was stare right at him. Your body was not able to move. It felt like it had been glued to the seat.

Seokmin noticed this and came closer to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You snapped out of the trance and forced a smile. “Yeah, Min, I am fine,” you said. “Do you by any chance know him?” He nodded his head towards Seungcheol.

“Uh... I think I do. We might have gone to the same high school, though I am not sure.” You lied through your teeth, but you couldn't tell them this. Not yet.

“Oh, that's great! I think he recognises you. He has been looking at you only.” Seokmin was not wrong. After coming down from the stage, he had been staring at you. VERY OBVIOUSLY.

What's wrong with him? you thought. You avoided his gaze through the meeting.

After the meeting got dismissed, you were the first one to move out of the auditorium. If you had stayed there and seen him staring at you like that, you would have thought he still liked you or something.

Which is not possible after the pain you have given him.

You sat down on your cabin chair and started working, hoping it would distract you. But no, everyone had different plans. Every single female employee, and even some of the male ones, came to your cabin just to talk about how handsome Choi Seungcheol was. By the end of the day, you were so frustrated that you even ignored Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung, who were waving their hands to say goodbye.

All you wanted was a warm shower to clear your head. But it wasn't helping. Whenever you closed your eyes, all you could see was Seungcheol. He had changed so much. All those boyish features had been replaced. He still had that aura, though. The aura that made everyone on the football field listen to him and helped his team win every match. You could still sense that same aura. You knew he could order the whole committee around, and they would do it without a single complaint—not because of his position, but because of the kind of person he was.

But behind all of this, you felt like your Cheol had disappeared. You still remembered his tear-soaked face when you broke up with him. It still hurts. It felt like the wound was still fresh. The way he sobbed so hard. The way he begged you to stay. Yet you still decided to leave him. He promised you he would come back. Instead of believing him, you chose to stay stubborn and broke up with him. Only you knew how much you hated yourself for taking that step.

It wasn't your fault, though. You had seen so many relationships fall apart because people couldn't handle long distance. You had seen people slowly start hating the person who once meant the world to them simply because they couldn't fulfil each other's expectations. You couldn't let that happen to you and Seungcheol. You couldn't bear the thought of the two of you ending up hating each other. So you convinced yourself it was better this way, never realising you were unintentionally making him hate you anyway.

You came out of the long shower, changed into your PJs, and plopped down on your bed. You weren't hungry enough to eat anything. Instead, you grabbed your laptop and opened one of your folders.

"Seungcheol and his side quests."

A small smile spread across your face as you looked at the folder before clicking on it.

"Ayoo! This is Choi Seungcheol, and today I am going to show you how to backflip."

Seungcheol placed your video camera on the edge of the sofa so it could capture his backflip.

"Can you please stop filling my storage with your hobbies?" you asked from the kitchen counter.

"You are at my dorm. Learn to respect me," Seungcheol said with an attitude.

"Okay. No kisses for a week."

And there you go. Seungcheol immediately came pouting towards you, asking for forgiveness. He started whining about how he couldn't survive a whole week without your kisses. You were hell-bent on not giving in. The camera had long been forgotten and completely ignored.

You noticed another video, wondering if you should click on it.

But you did anyway.

“How do you think the first person on Earth knew that shitting is a normal thing? Like, did they eat it?” You were recording the sunset when Seungcheol decided to ask you this horrendous question.

“Seungcheol, eww! I am recording. Why would you say that?” He laughed, and you panned the camera towards him.

“Guys, you can see how some handsome men speak behind everyone's back.” That only made him laugh harder. “You called me handsome. I don't care what anyone else says.”

He pinched your cheeks before taking the camera from your hands to record you instead.

“Now show us your outfit. Twirl... twirl... yeahhhh. Flip your hair. AHHHHH. So pretty.” You blushed, smacked his arm, and took the camera back to record both of you. “Okay, so future ___ and Seungcheol—”

Seungcheol, ever the annoying human, interrupted you.

“How about we say future Mr. and Mrs. Choi?” You stared at him. “Are you proposing to me?” “I don't have to propose, baby. We ARE getting married.” You couldn't help but coo at him. “ You've already decided our future. Awww.”

It all became background noise as you could no longer hold back your tears. You shut your laptop and drifted off to sleep.

One week later.

Today, there was going to be a farewell party for Mr. Choi and a welcome party for the junior Mr. Choi. What else were you supposed to call him? Until Mr. Choi was still here, you had to settle with Junior Mr. Choi. After that, the honorifics would do.

So where were we?

Yeah... the farewell party.

FAREWELL PARTY.

Which meant Junior Choi would also be there. Which meant ignoring him all over again. You were terrified of what might happen after he officially joined.

Whatever.

Right now, you were busy ignoring Seungcheol because he was making it his mission to stay near you.

What does he want? you thought. Why was he always so close to you?

He kept trying to strike up a conversation, even when you were standing with another group of people.

Another group meaning Seokmin, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan.

“So, you went to the same high school as our ___?” You looked at Seungkwan with wide eyes because why would he say that?

“Oh yeah, how do you all know, by the way?” Seungcheol looked at Seungkwan and then at you. His expression was unreadable.

“Oh well, you see... Seokmin knows everything about ___. So that's valid. He knows this too.”

Seungkwan chuckled. CHUCKLED? After saying something so diabolical for the situation you were in?

Seungcheol looked at Seokmin, then at the little space between the two of you. His jaw clenched, and so did his fist. It lasted only for a brief moment. No one noticed.

But you did.

Of course you did.

“But on a serious note, we knew that ___ studied at Seoul High School. And when Mr. Choi announced that you studied there as well, it was obvious that you both knew each other.”

Seungkwan clarified, making Seungcheol relax a little.

Why was he acting like that?

“Were you both in the same class? We keep asking her, but she never replies. She just says she forgot, which is ridiculous, by the way, because how can someone forget that, right?”

Soonyoung started rambling, and you wanted to choke him right then and there. You were not comfortable talking about all this after what you had done. You couldn't even make eye contact with him without remembering what you did to him.

Before Seungcheol could even say anything, Seokmin noticed that you weren't comfortable and spoke up.

“I don't think ___ is feeling well. I'll take her somewhere less crowded. You all can talk. I'll bring her back once she's feeling better.”

Now that's exactly why you loved Seokmin. Platonically. He knew you so well. After Seungcheol, if there was someone who truly understood you, it was Seokmin.

As you stood up, Seungcheol stood as well.

“Umm... Seokmin, right? I'll take her. I need to talk to her about the work she's in charge of anyway.”

He gently took your hand from Seokmin's before he even had time to process what had happened.

“Only if you're okay with it,” Seungcheol said, his voice suddenly soft and gentle.

You realised you couldn't keep running away from him forever, so you simply nodded.

You both walked towards the corridor. An awkward silence settled between you, but he was the first to break it.

“Uh... long time no see.” You looked at him and gave him a small smile. “Yeah... it's really great to meet you again.” He smiled too. Slipping one hand into his pocket, he asked, “So... how's life going?”

He genuinely wanted to talk to you. There was no point in ignoring him anymore. After all, you were going to work under him now.

“It's great. I love working here. Mr. Choi, your father, is an amazing man. I loved working for him. I hope I can say the same about you too, Junior Choi.”

You joked. He let out a genuine laugh. “I like that name.” His dimples appeared. Damn. You had forgotten just how cute those were.

“I like being creative. You know that.” Seungcheol looked straight into your eyes before letting out a quiet breath. “Yes. I know. More than anyone here.” There it was. The conversation you had been dreading.

“So... relationship status?” Of course he would ask that. “Uh... nothing. I just want to focus on work and life.” You answered.

“So you're single? What about Seokminie... or Seokjin... or whatever his name was?” So he was jealous. This man never changed. “Nothing. He's just my friend.”

He nodded before turning to look out of the corridor window.

“I swear I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable... But what was the reason you broke up with me? I thought we were perfect. We matched each other. For me... you were it. I never felt anything for anyone after you.”

You felt your eyes sting with tears. You have always been an emotional person. But you couldn't cry in front of him.

“Seungcheol... I know what happened wasn't fair to you, but I don't think we can go back to what we were.”

You held his hand as you said it because you knew he would break down.

“But why? Why, ___? Was I not good enough for you? Didn't I make you as happy as you made me?”

By now, he was shaking, tears streaming down his face.

You pulled him into your arms, resting his head against your neck as you gently rubbed his back, trying to calm him down.

“Seungcheol, calm down. You're okay. Just breathe.”

You knew he had gone through a lot. More than you, he had suffered. You left him without any explanation, and it was only natural for him to think it was his fault. But you couldn't let him believe that.

He was the best man you had ever met. He would have sacrificed everything for you, and that was never what you wanted. You wanted him to achieve everything he dreamed of without having to look back because of you.

But not anymore. He was back. He wasn't going anywhere this time.

And if he still wanted you, you would love to give the two of you the second chance you had both needed for so long.

“Seungcheol... I am really sorry. I know my apology won't change anything. But... I-I was scared. I was really scared. What if you left me forever? What if you never came back? I had seen so many people break because of long distance, and I really didn't want that.”

You cupped his face and wiped away his tears.

“I was also scared because I knew you would've given up your dreams if I had told you the real reason. And you're too stubborn, you know that.” You joked.

Seungcheol laughed through his tears.

“I tried to protect both of us, but I only ended up hurting you in the process. I really don't deserve you, Seungcheol.”

That made Seungcheol look at you with wide eyes.

“Are you crazy? You're the one for me. I know what you did was wrong, but you did it because you wanted to protect us. You don't know how hard it was for me to survive. All I could think about was why I wasn't a better boyfriend to you.”

You immediately shook your head.

“No. Don't think like that. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You rested your forehead against his. “Will you give me a second chance, ___?” Seungcheol asked, his eyes full of hope. “Please. I really need you. I really do.”

He held your hand and gave you those familiar puppy eyes. You had never been able to resist them. It was only fair that you gave in once again.

“Yes, Seungcheol. I would love to give us a second chance. I really want to show you how wrong my decision was and how I regretted it every single day. I am really sorry, Seungcheol.” He nodded.

“It's okay. Just give me a kiss, and I'll be fine.”

You chuckled and connected your lips with his. The kiss was filled with love and warmth. He pulled you closer by your waist and deepened the kiss. Your hands automatically travelled to his nape, pulling him even closer, if that was even possible.

After the lack of oxygen forced you to pull away from the kiss, he chased your lips like he always did whenever you kissed. You giggled.

“You really didn't change a bit.” Seungcheol bit his lower lip with a coy smile. “I'll never change for you.”

That earned a laugh from you.

“Ew, so cheesy. Wait, I need to ask you one thing. You never told me you were Mr. Choi's son back in high school. I was so shocked when I saw you.”

Seungcheol looked dumbfounded. “I thought you knew. I thought you joined the company because of me.” The audacity. “Are you serious, Seungcheol?”

He giggled at your reaction before pecking your cheek. “Of course not. But I really thought you knew who my father was in high school. Because the day you joined, my father told me.”

He cleared his throat before imitating his father.

“Your ex-girlfriend might have joined the company. So... yeah, that's how I found out.” That's when it finally clicked.

His father had known you from the very beginning. Wow. “So your father knew me?”

He looked at you with a deadpan expression. “Of course he did. In fact, my whole family knew you. They still do. I used to boast about you to everyone. Even my one-year-old niece, remember? I used to talk to her about you all the time. So it's obvious my father recognised you.”

You pinched his cheeks hard. He hissed in pain. “What the hell? Why?”

Instead of answering, you shook your head and pulled him into another kiss. This kiss was nothing like the one before. The first kiss had been light, almost playful, a smile shared against each other's lips.

This one stole the breath from both of you. It deepened almost instantly, driven by all the emotions you had both kept buried for years. “Okay... so are we continuing this at your place or mine?” You asked while panting. “Mine is closer.” He replied with a smirk.

“What are we waiting for then?”

The door clicked shut behind them. The apartment was dim, lit only by the city glow filtering through the curtains. Seungcheol's tie was already loose, his jacket discarded somewhere between the hallway and the living room. You stood near the entrance, still catching your breath, the buzz of wine and goodbyes clinging to your skin.

He turned to face you, dark eyes scanning you from head to toe. There was no hesitation, no tenderness, just raw want, sharp and immediate. He crossed the distance in three strides, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding into your hair, tilting your head back.

His mouth was on yours. Rough, demanding, tasting of whiskey and hunger. His tongue pushed past your lips, deep and possessive, while his hand slid down your back, gripping the curve of your ass through the thin fabric. You moaned into him, pressing your body against his, feeling the hard length of him through his trousers.

He backed you against the wall, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, biting at the sensitive skin just below your ear. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, each word deliberate. "But first, I want to taste you. I want to hear you beg."

You nodded, breathless, as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His hands found the hem of your dress, pushing it up your thighs until the fabric bunched around your waist. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties and pulled them down, letting them fall to your ankles. You stepped out of them, and he looked up at you, eyes dark with need.

"Spread your legs," he ordered.

You obeyed, widening your stance, bracing against the wall. He leaned in, his breath hot against your slick folds. The first touch of his tongue, flat, slow, savoring made you gasp. He licked from your entrance to your clit, then back down, circling, tasting, drinking you in. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you further, holding you open as he buried his face between your legs.

"Oh, fuck," you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair.

He responded by sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. You bucked against his face, and he growled, the vibration sending sparks through your core. One hand left your thigh, and you felt his fingers slide through your wetness, circling your entrance before pushing in one, then two, crooked just right.

"You're so wet for me," he said against you, his voice muffled but clear. "This pussy missed me."

"Yes—god, yes, it did—"

He pumped his fingers slowly at first, curling to hit that spongy spot inside you, while his mouth worked your clit in relentless circles. Your knees trembled. The wall was the only thing keeping you upright. The pressure built low in your belly, a coil tightening with every lick, every stroke.

"I love you," you gasped, the words tumbling out before you could think. "I love you, Seungcheol—"

He stopped. His fingers stilled inside you, and he pulled his mouth away, looking up at you. His lips were glistening, his jaw tense. For a moment, his eyes widened, something raw and vulnerable flickering across his face. A crack in the dominant facade. You saw the emotion hit him, the weight of those three words after everything. The breakup, the years apart. His jaw clenched, and his breath hitched.

Then he blinked, and the mask slid back into place. He curled his fingers harder, pressing against that spot again, and his mouth returned to your clit with renewed ferocity.

"Say it again," he demanded, voice rough.

"I love you," you repeated, crying out as he drove his fingers deeper, faster, his tongue relentless.

"Again."

"I love you—fuck—Seungcheol—"

He sucked harder, fingers pounding into you, and the coil snapped. Your orgasm crashed through you, waves of pleasure so intense you couldn't breathe. Your walls clenched around his fingers, and you felt the gush, warm, wet, spraying against his hand, his face, soaking his shirt. He didn't stop, licking and fucking you through it, drawing out every spasm until you collapsed against the wall, trembling, a mess.

Only then did he pull back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand, watching you with a satisfied smirk. He stood, crowding you, pressing his damp lips to your forehead.

"I love you too," he whispered, barely audible, but you caught it. "Always have. Always will."

Then he took your hand and led you to the bedroom, already unbuckling his belt.

The bedroom door swung open, and Seungcheol's hand was on your back, guiding you forward until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He didn't bother with the lights, the city glow was enough, painting the room in shades of amber and shadow. The bed creaked as you fell onto it, your dress still bunched around your waist, your thighs slick and trembling.

He stood at the foot of the bed, silhouetted against the window, working his belt free with deliberate slowness. The metal clinked, and he pulled the leather strap through the loops, letting it drop to the floor. Then his hands moved to his button, his zipper. His trousers fell, and he stepped out of them, his cock springing free, already hard, flushed, the tip glistening.

"On your hands and knees," he said, voice low and even. "Face down. Ass up."

You scrambled to obey, turning over, pressing your chest into the sheets, pushing your hips up into the air. The position made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and you loved it. You could feel your own wetness dripping down your inner thigh, the ache between your legs demanding more.

He climbed onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His hands found your hips, gripping hard, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He leaned over you, his chest brushing your back, his mouth at your ear.

"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, his breath hot. "All mine. This pussy is mine. Say it."

"Yours," you breathed. "It's yours."

He pulled back just enough, and you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing, sliding through your slick folds without entering. You whimpered, pushing back against him, but his hands held you still.

"Not yet," he said. "I want to feel you come around me. But first, I want to hear you say it again."

You knew what he wanted. You turned your head, cheek against the pillow, looking back at him over your shoulder. "I love you, Seungcheol. I've always loved you. Even when I said I hated you, I loved you."

His jaw tightened. For a second, the dominant mask cracked again, his eyes glistening, a shudder running through his shoulders. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder blade, breathing slowly, steadying himself. Then he lifted his head and drove into you in one sharp, brutal thrust.

You cried out, a desperate, broken sound, as he filled you completely. He paused, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every inch of him. His fingers dug into your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel… you feel like home."

He began to move, slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each stroke was deep and deliberate, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. The rhythm built, faster, harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

He reached around, his hand finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles in time with his thrusts. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, his cock stretching you, his fingers working your sensitive nub, the pressure building again even though you'd just come minutes ago.

"That's it," he growled, his pace quickening. "I want to feel you squirt on my cock. I want to watch you fall apart."

You were already close, the coil tightening, your moans turning into incoherent pleas. "Please—please, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice a command, not a request. "Now."

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a wave, your body convulsing, your walls clenching around him. You felt the gush of fluid release, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything. He kept thrusting through it, driving deeper, chasing his own release.

"Fuck—fuck—" His rhythm faltered, his grip on your hips going white-knuckled. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep and spilled inside you, hot and thick, filling you completely. His body shuddered, his forehead pressed against your spine, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sounds were your mingled breaths, the distant hum of the city, the sticky warmth between your legs.

Slowly, he pulled out, and you collapsed onto your side, spent. He laid beside you, pulling you into his arms, his chest against your back, his arm wrapping around your waist. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

"I love you too," he said again, softer this time, the words settling into the quiet. "I'm not letting you go again."

You turned in his arms, facing him, your forehead against his chin. "Me too."

He chuckled, a low, tired sound. "That's my girl.”

His hand slid down your stomach, resting just above where he'd been moments ago, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. The night stretched ahead, long and warm, and you knew this was only the beginning.

You woke up at the crack of dawn to the sight of Seungcheol's broad back. Your fingernail marks were scattered across his skin, reminding you of everything the two of you had done the night before. A blush slowly crept onto your face.

“Baby?” Seungcheol hummed sleepily “Why are you awake at this time?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don't know... I just woke up.”

You sat up in bed, and he followed, a dorky smile spreading across his face. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he rested his head on your shoulder.

“So, how are you feeling now?” he asked. You looked at him, your faces only inches apart, before placing a small peck on his lips. “I’m feeling great. Just a bit sore. Nothing I'm not experienced with.” His smile widened.

“So... did you mean what you said last night?” He asked it so hopefully that he looked like an adorable little puppy. You decided to tease him.

“Eh? What? I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you tell me what I said?” He immediately pouted and started whining.

“What do you mean you don't know? You literally said 'I love you' while I was... you know... and you said it again when we were together. Stop acting. What the hell? Why are you laughing?”

You couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into laughter. He was definitely going to sulk, but it was worth it. “Oh my... You still act like a seven-year-old, huh?”

You smiled, cupping his cheek.

“But yes... I did say I love you. And I meant every word of it.” You paused for a second before smiling a little wider. “I also remember you saying you loved me. Now tell me... did you mean it?”

Instead of answering, Seungcheol leaned in and kissed you.

“I'll always love you. No matter what. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm never letting you go again. You're stuck with me forever.”

He finished with one last gentle peck on your lips.

You smiled before throwing your pillow straight at his face.

“Oww! Why did you do that? Come back!”