#lapydiariesnet

Ooh, fall and free, fall and free Fall and free, fall and free Fall and free

Your accident made news all over the city, the scandal of a promising club singer robbed of her memories overshadowing the ongoing murders haunting the darkest corners. As far as you know, you slipped and fell during a robbery gone wrong, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You woke up at Neo City Memorial Hospital with your head wrapped in bandages and swollen, black eyes. Your mother prayed in front of a holographic Bible, clutching her Rosary tightly, while your father stared blankly out the window, lost in thought. It was the worst day of your life that you can remember, and it lingers in your mind.

So it’s no surprise that people from all over would come to see this mysterious person with a great voice and missing patches of her life put on a performance, because that’s what this city lives and breathes on. Scandals, violence, and sex mixed in between. You’ve figured out your role, and you play it well—it’s the only way you can survive.

I feel love I feel love I feel love

The beat fades out as you’re back on stage, the purple lights shifting slightly and shining on you, the enigma. Claps and cheers erupt in the club, and you let yourself bask in it all as the velvet curtains close. Buzzing from the energy of the crowd, you stand there rooted in place, your eyes closed as you hear them chant ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE! The buzz you get from this can never be replicated, no matter how much kosmi dust you snort. 

“Well done, gorgeous.”

Turning around, you face your boss, Cado, who walks towards you, clapping his hands. Your buzz drops like a free fall.

“Just doing my job, boss,” you sarcastically salute, the energy in the room shifting to something colder. It’s no surprise your boss is attracted to you, and you don’t miss the way he gazes over your body as something to possess rather than something to behold. He’s offered many times to get you to do “work” on the side for him, but you never budged. Maybe it’s worked on others, but not you. You don’t shit where you eat.

He’s unfortunately a conventionally attractive man, with a jawline sculpted by a god and dark, seductive brown eyes you can get trapped in. Cado takes good care of his body, bragging about how much he works out and sometimes flexing his arms or flashing his abs. All he talks about is himself and his money; it doesn’t impress you.

“You know my offer still stands, if you are looking for extra work,” Cado offers, a glint of mischievousness in his eyes.

Giving him a slow once-over, you snort. “I don’t need the extra money. You know that,” you scoff. “I’m sure one of the waitresses might.”

You walk away before he can say another word, exiting the side stage and heading to the bar. The need for a stiff drink is strong as ever, craving a shot of Sunshine Mist that’ll burn your throat and numb you in the best way. You only put up with Cado’s advances because this club feels familiar to you, even though you don't remember working here before. The nice guy facade he tried to put on at first, you saw through that early on. You see him for who he is, and you’ve made it clear every chance you get.

Holding your fingers up towards the bartender, Chan, you take a seat on the stool as the lively chatter and studio music fade into the background. Your head bobs lightly, your fingers drumming on the counter as you wait for your drink.

“Rough night?” Chan asks, twirling the cocktail shaker.

“Eh, just Cado being Cado,” you quip.

“My condolences,” he chuckles, sliding the shot towards you.

You snort, grabbing the glass and throwing it back. It gives you an almost therapeutic burn, instantly putting you at ease. Sunshine Mist is one of the strongest drinks concocted, and while not everyone can stand its aftereffects, it’s your preferred drink here, especially when dealing with the likes of Cado. For a moment, everything softens, and your buzz has returned, leaving your skin tingling all over.

“Mind if I join you?”

You turn towards an unfairly attractive stranger standing beside you, staring at him blankly before realizing you were. His dark hair falls across his forehead, his smile bright enough to rival the neon lights flooding the club. He definitely doesn’t fit this crowd, and you don’t recall ever seeing him, but you are not a stranger to unusual occurrences.

You gesture towards the stool next to you, and he follows your lead, scooting his seat closer to you.

Chan gives him a measured look. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have the same thing she’s having,” the stranger responds, tapping his watch and revealing a digicard. “And put hers on my tab.”

“Thank you,” you say, the curves of your mouth twitching.

“You’re welcome, gorgeous.”

Your eyebrows lift, followed by a silvery laugh. Studying him more carefully, you can’t help but notice the shape of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the timbre of his voice. A flutter of butterflies invades your stomach; you shake your head as the heat creeps up your neck.

“So, what’s the catch?”

It’s his turn to lift his brow. “Catch?”

Sitting up straighter, you throw him a look. “You bought me a drink, which is greatly appreciated, but I have the feeling that you didn’t come over here to take a shot with me.”

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs. “Okay, you caught me,” he says, raising his hands. “I just wanted to tell you I liked your performance.”

You stare at him blankly, and then you laugh. “That’s it?” You flash him a smile. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Give me time.”

Chan slides the drink over to the stranger, who catches the rim with the tips of his fingers. The veins on his hands pop suddenly, and you shake away the thoughts that are creeping into your head. He thanks Chan as he takes his shot, shooting it back in the same manner you did. The burning liquor doesn't faze him at all, and you sit there impressed.

“Seokmin.”

Your brows knit together. “Excuse me?”

He pulls out his hand to shake. “My name is Seokmin.”

You giggle, realizing he was introducing himself. “Nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand in return. “My name is—”

“I know who you are,” he says smoothly. His hand is warm and soft, and you can’t shake this sensation in your chest. You gaze at each other, your body feeling drawn to him, as if magnetism is pushing you together. Your hand is still in his, and you are in no hurry to let it go.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask,” you say suddenly. “But have we met before?”

Seokmin falters slightly before regaining his composure, slowly taking his hand from yours. “I—”

“Hey, boss wants us to go over the set list for tomorrow night.”

Your manager, nicknamed Snake-Eyes, appears from behind, holding a holographic tablet with a floating stylus. Looking past your manager, you eye Cado towards the back, watching you intently with a cigarette in his mouth. Of course, he wants to talk about it now, of all the times.

Glancing back at Seokmin, you let out a small sigh, your mood soured once again thanks to your boss. “I’m sorry we have to cut this short,” you say. “Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Maybe,” Seokmin smiles softly, sending more butterflies to your stomach.

He gives you a hand to slide off the stool, his cologne appealing to your nose. It smells familiar, and you can’t pinpoint where it’s from. Maybe it’s something you came across in the years you can’t remember. Lucky you.

You start to walk away, but something tells you to turn around, and you find him still standing in place, watching you walk away. “Don’t be a stranger?”

He smiles. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll be seeing more of me.”

For some reason, those words resonate with you for the rest of the night.

Seokmin steps out into the wet night, lighting a cigarette from the corner of his mouth. The petrichor is fresh and calming as he deeply inhales, letting the enhanced tobacco burn his throat. It’s past two a.m., and the city is still alive, with no sign of slowing down. Neon lights and advertisements are shoved in his face at every corner, drug paraphernalia in the streets, and people coming from all directions looking for adventure. He remembers when he was that carefree and full of life, looking forward to the next day and many after. But so much has changed, and it feels like a distant memory, a whole lifetime ago.

Seokmin takes another puff as he watches on, lost in the thoughts that have been tormenting him for the past two years. He came to the club to find peace, to get answers to the darkness in his soul and the mystery that refuses to rest in his mind. Seokmin sought a reprieve that can only be cured by one, and when he watched you perform for the crowd, with the light shining on you like the star you are, it made him sadder. You don’t remember him, or your past life together, and every day it gets harder to bear. You are the light of his life, the one thing that has kept him alive, and he is determined to help you remember him, or at least, know the truth.

The authorities say it was an accident. Sure, like he will believe a fall like that will leave you on the brink of death with black eyes, broken ribs, and needing surgery. Seokmin has been a private investigator for many years and has seen a lot of shit, and the insult to his intelligence is laughable. He’s mentioned it to your parents, but they practically threatened to call the police if he came on their property again. The reaction didn’t surprise him much—your parents never thought he was good enough for you anyway.

They never told you about Seokmin and your life together. Your father is a very powerful man, and he had every trace of you and him wiped out of digital existence. It’s almost amusing the lengths he went through to erase Seokmin from your life. But what’s cruelly ironic is that he cannot take Seokmin’s memories away from him. It’s what helps Seokmin sleep at night.

There were many times he sat in the dark, in the apartment that you shared, and thought about barging into the hospital room or the club and telling you the full truth, hoping it would trigger something. But he can’t tell you anything he doesn’t know himself. How were you hurt? Who would do this to you? Why were you targeted? These are questions that have been wrestling in his mind with little to no answers, and forcing the truth on you wouldn’t serve you any better.

But being in your orbit again, hearing your voice and seeing the warmth in your eyes, renewed something in Seokmin’s spirit. He’s more determined than ever to uncover the truth and secure the justice you deserve. To bring you home.

God help anyone who tries to get in Seokmin’s way.

“Hi, baby.”

The voice is a low, honeyed murmur that makes you smile. A kiss is planted on your shoulder in a haze, and your body automatically eases. You reach back, blindly massaging the head of the hidden person as you watch the sun rise in an apartment. He feels familiar, as if you’ve known him for some time, even though you can't see his face.

“Have you been to sleep yet?”

You shake your head, a peaceful smile on your lips as sunlight rises over the horizon. It’s the first time you have seen the sun in days because of the rain, and you're too wired to sleep, thanks to the cup of coffee you had when you came home. “I just wanted to see this—the sun rise,” you explain. “There aren’t enough artificial sun rooms that can compare to the real thing.”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement. “You are right about that, baby.”

He shifts, placing a lingering kiss beneath your earlobe. A moan escapes your lips as tingles spread throughout your body. His hands are warm, comforting as they grab your waist, pulling you closer to him. His cologne is pleasing, its scent unlike any of the synthetic materials made in factories throughout the city. It’s fresh and comforting, like vanilla, with a hint of aromatic spice. More kisses trail down your neck, his soft lips each imprinting electric and hard to ignore. Your nipples harden at his sensuality, your skin suddenly feeling hot and in need of more touch.

“I’m supposed to be watching the sunrise.” Your protest is weak with little effort. The hidden figure smirks against your skin, a low chuckle booming through his throat. “Not funny,” you sigh.

You turn to face him, kissing him with your eyes closed, allowing your body and mind to give yourself to him completely. His hands roam your body as if they know you, and your spirit isn’t disturbed—instead, your intuition tells you it’s okay, and he’s yours. Your shirt rises over your head, and you lean back into your pillows. Your blanket is caught in between your fingers, a tug of something metal caught in its snag. Raising your hand in the light reveals a ruby ring on a silver band, sitting perfectly on your ring finger.

“I fall in love with this ring every time I see it,” you sigh, the words flowing from your heart. “Good job, lover.”

You look up at him properly, trying to catch the shape of your stranger’s face. But it keeps slipping at the edges, the rays of light refusing to let you focus too hard. His presence, however, feels steady, familiar in a way your thoughts don’t know how to argue with.

“I missed you, you know,” he says, his hands cupping your face. He kisses you deeply, and you lose all feeling in your legs. “I could do this all day.”

You raise a brow, a smirk on your lips. “Technically, you can.”

“I could.” He lets out a silvery laugh. “But Seungcheol wouldn’t like that.”

You don’t know who he is, but somehow the name doesn’t seem foreign to you. Sitting up slightly, you cock your head to the side. “Well, tell Seungcheol you have plans and will be busy all day.”

“And what are those plans?” He asks, trailing his fingers along your shorts.

Despite his face being covered in a shroud of light, you know he’s staring at your body, ogling your breasts that were made just for him. Lifting slightly, you help yourself out of your shorts, revealing your bare center, and part your legs slightly, just for his view.

“Tell him you will be busy eating out your fiancé,” you half-joke, placing your foot on his shoulder.

He guffaws as he lays his head on your foot, massaging it. You don’t know why the words ‘fiancé’ came out of your mouth. You don’t even know who you are in bed with. It like deja vu, and you can’t explain it, but it feels right. This is where you are supposed to be.

“I don’t think I can tell him that, baby,” he breathes in between laughs. “I’ll think of something.”

His free hand spreads your legs apart further, dipping his fingers into your wet heat. You hiss at the contact, every nerve in your body on alert.

“You're soaked, baby,” he coos, his thumb rubbing against your clit. “Maybe I’ll tell Seungcheol there was a leak that needs fixing.”

You're buzzing, unfocused, enthralled with the pleasure he is giving you. “Mmhmm, sure.”

The stranger shuffles, spreading your legs wider as he lowers himself to your center. His tongue takes a long swipe without warning, leaving you clutching your sheets. He moans and grunts in your pussy, tasting and sucking you as you squirm in his hands, the haze you are in multiplying by the second. Lip smacking, slurping, and lewd moans fill the room, lifting you further on cloud nine.

“Fuck, I—” you sound pathetic, but the incessant need to cum in his mouth is greater. You try to pull yourself together, but the pleasure is too great, and you succumb to him completely. Tugging his hair, you ride the wave of his tongue, chasing your release until it washes over you suddenly, leaving you with a vision of white and shaky breath.

“I got you, baby,” he says smoothly. “Give me all of it.”

You let out a guttural moan that ripples through you, gushing in his mouth unabashedly. He doesn’t let up, licking you until there is nothing left, leaving a kiss on your pulsing clit that makes you shudder. You dissolve into the blanket, slowly coming down from your high. Lying there with half-sleepy eyes and a smile on your face, the sunlight shifting as it rises in the sky. You turn your head as your lover lifts his face, the sunlight no longer protecting him, revealing him at least.

“I love you.”

You jolt upright, your heart beating heavily, your vision blurry, beads of sweat forming on your forehead. He disappears, and you’re no longer in the dreamy haze of light; instead, the softness shifts cruelly into a large room of unnatural darkness. Your alarm clock is blaring on the walls, the constant chirping grating on your nerves.

“Maxima, I’m awake,” you croak to the virtual assistant.

It takes a moment for your vision to fully come back, replaying what just happened in your bed. You dismiss it as a dream, but it feels so real, like an unlocked memory calling to you. You glance down at your crotch, noticing the obvious wetness between your legs. Letting out a loud groan, you scoot to the edge of the bed, your head in your hands, trying to make sense of it all.

Seokmin.

He was the man of your dreams. You were in love, you were happy, and seemingly engaged. Your parents never mentioned you to him, and maybe it is all just a dream, but you still remember how your body reacted when you were near him, as if he were a familiar instead of a stranger. Or maybe it is all in your head—a fantasy constructed by a lonely brain.

But something tells you there is more to the story, and if you want your mind to rest, you will need answers.

Aug 02 2061. 

That was the day Seokmin’s life changed forever.

He remembers the day like it was yesterday. You two watched the sun rise together, made love, and he watched you fall asleep before he left for the day. He did not, in fact, tell Seungcheol you had a leak that needed fixing, but Seokmin promised he would spend the next day with you. He had it all worked out with Seungcheol, and he was so excited to come home to you that night, to tell you the good news and plan the day together, or do nothing at all. It didn’t matter as long as he was with you.

But when you didn’t come home, and the minutes turned into hours, he knew something was wrong. Seokmin checked your location and noticed it was headed towards the opposite end of the city. He rushed out of the apartment like a bat out of hell, following your signal until it came to an abrupt stop at Neo City Memorial. Seokmin pushed on the gas pedal as hard as he could, running every traffic light and evading law enforcement to get to you. Every fear he had came true that night—you were hurt almost beyond repair, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Seokmin shakes his head slowly, taking himself out of that day and back to reality, in an apartment where the sun no longer shines, barren of the life and love you brought into it. His phone buzzes again, and he sighs, grabbing the phone and swiping the screen up. His colleague and friend, Wonwoo, has been helping him with his investigation, digging into records that are behind red tape and out of his reach. A large file was sent to Seokmin’s email, encrypted with a password that only he knows.

Vulpes.

Entering his password, he connects his phone to a projector as the files load, filled with contacts of people who were at the club the night you were hurt. Scrolling through the list, he recognizes some of the names: bigwigs, politicians, and gang leaders who contribute to the corruption of Neo City. Nothing out of the ordinary. His attention turns to the file that holds the video footage, the icon blinking in sequences of threes. Tapping on his screen, he sees the video display on his wall, the frame still focused on a back entrance. 

“Let’s do this,” Seokmin sighs before pressing play. 

The video is audioless, with heavy rain pouring from the sky, slightly obscuring the street camera's lens. Seokmin watches intently, his fingers drumming on his leg in anticipation, not wanting to miss anything amiss. Growing impatient, he fast-forwards the video, the minutes dragging on with little to no movement to the back entrance. Did Wonwoo make a mistake? Seokmin thinks to himself. Maybe this is the wrong vid—

At 2:03 am, the back entrance door swings open, with two large men carrying what appears to be a woman, who is twisting and turning wildly, trying to get loose. A light flashed on the figure, briefly but clearly enough, which gave Seokmin pause. The blue dress, one he has seen too many times, is on display, and a chill shoots up his spine. Rewinding slowly, he stops at the frame, his chest tightening at the frozen image before him.

It’s you.

Seokmin stares for far too long, almost unable to believe what he is seeing. You were being carried out and manhandled like you didn’t matter, as if there wasn’t anyone out there who loved you and wouldn’t care if you disappeared. His blood boils with anger as he hastily taps the screen to let the video continue. One of the guards made the mistake of letting go of one of your legs, and you used it to your advantage, kicking him in the chest. He fell back, losing his step and falling ass-first onto the wet pavement. The other guard had your arms pinned behind your back, and as hard as you wrangled, you couldn’t get out of his lock. Even without audio, Seokmin knows you were giving them a good verbal lashing, a look of rage on your delicate face that Seokmin has never seen.

“Atta’ girl,” Seokmin says out loud. At least you still fought back.

Seokmin’s smile vanishes quickly when the fallen guard rose from the ground, stumbling towards you furiously. His fist connected with your left cheek, stunning you into shock. Blow after blow, the man assaulted you, hitting every exposed area he could. Seokmin watched your body go limp, the glee in the guard’s eyes embedded in his head. The guard holding you said something to your assaulter, who stopped his onslaught with a look of satisfaction on his face. Seokmin watches on, his stomach in knots, the anger burning deeper in his gut. These men will never see the light of fucking day again.

You're dragged to a waiting vehicle, set aside the passenger door like some sort of rag doll, your chest rising and falling slowly, your face swollen and bloodied. A figure stepped out of the back entrance, the light catching him, and Seokmin recognized him: Cado. Seokmin always sensed he didn’t like him much, and it’s not lost on him how Cado looked like you with carnality in his eyes. Cado knew better than to try anything in front of him, though.

Cado hustled over to the car, raising his hands angrily and slapping the backs of the heads of the guards. Opening the back door, he motioned for your assaulter to put you in the car. As he grabbed your arms, it is as if you were brought to life, and as an act of defiance, you spat in his face. The light goes out suddenly, just for a few seconds, but when it comes back on, you are on the wet ground, rain pouring on your face, with blood pooling from your head. Cado was enraged, picking you up and shoving you unceremoniously in the car, shouting and pointing in the north direction. Both guards entered the car, driving off suddenly, and Cado re-enters the club, the door shutting swiftly behind him.

The video stops playing, and Seokmin stands there, rooted in place and stewing in rage. He couldn’t be there to protect you, and he had to watch you experience the worst day of your life, and indirectly his too. You were supposed to be married now and living happy lives, but instead, you are apart, and you don’t remember a any of it.

Swiping to a different screen, he presses Wonwoo’s contact, the phone ringing once before he answers.

“You saw the video?”

“No shit,” Seokmin scoffs. “I want those guards found—”

“I’m already ahead of you, Seokmin,” Wonwoo answers. “I’m going to send you this address for the one who did the most damage.”

“Do that, and tell Seungcheol to meet me there,” Seokmin instructs. “Things will get extremely messy.”

“Well. You weren’t exaggerating about the mess.”

Seungcheol walks into the blood-splattered small apartment, slapping on a pair of black gloves made of matte obsidian and seamless synthetic polymer that clings like a second skin. Built with tech that alters fingerprint texture, it makes the person who uses it basically untraceable.

“I take it they are still alive?” Seungcheol surmises, stepping over broken glass.

“Barely,” Seokmin mumbles. Kneeling, he turns the head of one of the guards, the assaulter, Scion, lifting a finger under his nose.

As soon as Seokmin retrieved the address from Wonwoo, he was there in no time. He could’ve waited for Seungcheol to do things the ‘right way’, but all Seokmin could see was you being beaten and thrown around. He could have granted them mercy, but why should he? They gave you less than that, and now you’re both paying the price.

Seokmin hears shuffling behind him, and he turns, watching Seungcheol drag the other guard, Brucus, into the bathroom. He quickly learned their life story from the information Wonwoo sent over. Brucus’s family all died in the war in the neighboring desert, Dismiscus, a decade ago, and Scion comes from a family of lowlifes who are either dead, in jail, or walking the streets.

Basically, nobody would miss them when Seokmin wipes them off the face of the planet.

The bathroom door opens, and Seunghcheol comes out, his nose crinkling at the protruding smell that is starting to fill the space. “I’m pretty sure that guy took his last breath in the tub,” Seungcheol comments, surveying the living room. “I didn’t see any stab wounds or gunshots. What did you use?”

Seokmin holds up his left hand, showing off a glove made of synthetic chromium. “My goal was to make sure he stopped breathing.”

“Goal met,” Seungcheol quips.

Seokmin turns his attention back to Scion, tapping his cheek with two slaps. “Wake up.”

Scion doesn’t stir, his chest rising and falling as if he is in a deep coma. Without a second thought, Seokmin lowers a fist to his ribs, hearing a bone-shattering crack that satisfies him. Scion’s eyes almost bulge out of his sockets, followed by a piercing howl that is quickly covered by Seokmin’s fist.

“This pain is nothing compared to what you gave her,” Seokmin grits his teeth. “Tighten the fuck up.” Crimson slowly coats Scion’s lips. Seokmin stands straight, observing the weak man in this state. “I’m going to ask you some questions, and you are going to tell me everything I need to know.”

Scion slowly raises his head, meeting your gaze for the first time. “I’ve…seen…you…club.” His mouth twitches, a slight smirk on his lips. “You come to see our Vixen.”

Seokmin clenches his jaw, anger stirring in his stomach and hardening from within. He referred to you by your stage name, a nickname Seokmin gave you, and it makes him want to wring Scion's neck. Seungcheol appears to his left, adjusting his gloves. “So you know why he’s here then.”

Letting out a weak scoff, he attempts to sit up but winces, sliding further down the carpet. “Let’s…not play games.”

Seokmin couldn’t agree more. “Aug 02 2061,” he began. “Why was she being carried out of the club?”

Scion attempts to sit up again, lifting off the ground until he is comfortable. He doesn’t answer, instead pulling a cigarette from his front pocket and slipping it into his mouth.

“You got a light?”

Seokmin and Seungcheol exchange annoyed looks, shaking their heads in unison. Seungcheol digs into his pocket, pulls out a lighter, and flicks the switch to ignite the flame. Seokmin is in his right mind to take that cigarette and shove it down his throat while it’s still lit.

Scion looks at you carefully, inhales deeply, and lets out a wet cough. “It was on the boss’s orders.”

Seokmin stares, his jaw ticking in annoyance. “Cado?”

He nods, taking another puff. “That’s the one.” Wiping his nose with his sleeve, he closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. “She saw something she wasn’t supposed to see.”

That catches Seokmin’s attention. “What wasn’t she supposed to see?”

A slow, evil grin is on his lips, followed by a chuckle. “Business. Stuff way above my pay grade.”

“Care to elaborate on that?” Seokmin grits his teeth.

Scion doesn’t answer, instead burning out the cigarette in his hand. Seokmin takes a good look at him, watching the color slowly drain from his face. A long white scar trails from his sea-green, baggy eye to the corner of his mouth, and he looked rugged, rough around the edges, with tattoos and more scars riddling his arms. It would scare the average person walking down the street, but one thing Seokmin has learned in life is that it doesn’t matter how tough you look if you can’t back it up.

“You still want to protect your boss in death? That’s almost admirable.” Seokmin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a 9 mm silencer. Taking a deep breath, he points the gun at his head, his index finger steady on the trigger. “I suggest you think long and hard about your answer.”

Flashes of your face and your smile flood his mind. The woman he knows, the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, was taken away from him cruelly. He will work day and night to get you back, and if a few brains have to be splattered on some walls, so be it.

“I’m not telling you shit—”

The gun goes off before Scion could finish his sentence, blood splattering on his face. Seokmin is numb, not bothered by the violence he had to inflict. He could do it ten times over and still wouldn’t satisfy him.

“Go, Seok,” Seungcheol commands, taking the weapon out of his hands. “I’ll clean up here.”

Seokmin nods, leaving without saying a word. He wasn’t concerned about the noise, since the apartment is in a shitty part of the city and everyone minds their own business. The rain starts to fall heavily from the sky, washing the blood off his face and his leather jacket. Seokmin stands there for a moment, soaking it all in, letting the memories of you dancing in the rain fill his mind. You were always carefree, a pretty bird in a city of terror, and he would give anything to have that back.

Climbing onto his motorcycle, he loads “I Feel Love” into his headphones and roars out of sight, the venom of vengeance consuming him whole.

You can’t stop thinking about Seokmin.

He encompasses every corner of your mind, the montage of your moment together fresh in your head. You seemed to be a couple in love, a familiarity that you somehow feel in your heart, and it bothers you. You don’t know who Seokmin is; you met him for the first time last week at the club. Why does it feel like you were meant to know him?

You gaze at your bare ring finger, rubbing it with your index finger as you're lost in thought. For the past few days, it has felt weird not having a ring there, and if you stare long enough, you imagine seeing an imprint of something that might have been there at one point. You don’t know.

“Is everything alright?”

Slowly coming out of your reverie, you glance at your mother, whose eyes mirror yours in color. “I’m fine,” you clear your throat, shaking your head. “Just a bit tired.”

You stab your fork lazily into your seared lemon trout, taking a small bite to appease your mother. You aren’t sure what your relationship was like during the years you were gone, but before then, she was barely a parent. You were raised by the various nannies that were employed in your home; your mother spent her time playing the perfect wife, and your father was hardly around. You were merely an afterthought unless there was an event that required the whole family to be together. Chin up and smile wide, your mother would dutifully remind you. You don’t want to embarrass your father or the company. Your name carries weight in Neo City, and your parents will protect it by all means, even making you a pawn whether you like it or not.

“Are you still working at that club?” Your mother grimaces. “I don’t know why you bother setting foot in that soiled establishment.”

“Because I like to sing, Mom, and being there lets me do that,” you respond, feeling slightly irritated. You glance at your father, who watches you carefully, his silence louder than anything your mother could say. Crossing your arms, you feel the erratic thump of your heart. “I know you guys are worried about me, but aside from a weird dream, I’m fine—”

“What dream?”

Your father’s voice is soft yet commanding, catching you off guard. He hasn’t talked much since you arrived, barely shown any interest in the daughter walking around with partial amnesia.

“It’s nothing really, Dad,” you dismiss it, shaking your head. “I doubt it means anything.”

“Tell me.”

Your eyes drift from your father to your plate, and you let out a quiet breath. Your finger taps on your leg, unease settling on your chest. If you say it out loud, it becomes real, this dream, that moment with Seokmin. You don’t know what to make of it, and it scares you, experiencing a level of intimacy with a stranger you only met once. But knowing your parents, they will not let it go, and you might as well rip the Band-Aid off now.

“I had a dream about someone who came into the club,” you start, running your fingers through your hair. “I don’t think I know him, but in the dream, it felt like I did. Like maybe I knew him before.”

“Oh?” Your mother’s eyes light up as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “And you’re sure you don’t know him?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head. “This guy, Seokmin, I have never met him before—”

“Wait,” your father cuts in, raising his hand. “What did you say his name was again?”

‘Seokmin,” you confirm. Grabbing your glass of white wine, you take a sip, noticing his brow furrow with annoyance. “Do you know him, Dad?”

‘What?” Your dad slurs before shaking his head. “No, I don’t know him. I am just concerned about you having dreams about a stranger.” He smiles reassuringly, though it doesn’t match his eyes. “You are still taking your medication, right?”

You throw him an incredulous look and scoff. “Yes, I’m taking my medication!” you spit, rising from your seat. “How could you think that?”

“Well, hold on,” your mother leaps out of her seat, raising her hands. “Your father and I just want what’s best for you.” Her voice cracks at the end, tears welling in her eyes. “We almost lost you.”

You stare at your mother and father, the burning ember of anger brewing in your stomach slowly cooling off. There is something indescribable in your father’s eyes that leaves you uneasy, an ice-cold shiver spreading down your spine.

“It was just a dream,” your mother says. “I wouldn’t worry about it, okay?”

“Your mother is right,” your father agrees. “Sit down and finish dinner.”

It wasn’t a suggestion, but you don’t have any more will to fight with your family tonight. You do as you're told, slowly putting on your poker face as you finish your meal in silence. But something your gut tells you is more than just a dream, and even more sinister, your father might know something about it.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Seokmin has seen you, and the distance physically aches. Not that he hasn’t wanted to, but he’s been busy, cracking heads and taking names—so to speak.

He’s gone through the list of names that were there the night you were hurt, and showed up to a few of those places, gathering all of the information he could get. Some gave it to him willingly; others were harder to convince. It didn’t matter how he got it done, as long as he got what he was looking for. Some survived to see another day; others weren’t so lucky.

Seokmin stares at his hands in the bathroom, his hands covered with dirt and dried-up blood, bruised knuckles that are turning into a nasty shade of purple. Turning on the warm water, he washes the blood away with a fluxus genorum soap he acquired from the Neo City black market, which specializes in rapidly healing most injuries. It was created by a scientist who wanted to cure humanity of their ailments, but the government had other plans. It’s said that the scientist refused, and the scientist suddenly went missing, presumed to be killed by the others of your very own Senator. Yet somehow, his creation can be accessed by certain means. Seokmin always found that interesting.

He unbuttons his shirt, revealing fading bruises he didn’t care to heal. In a way, Seokmin is addicted to the pain. It’s one of the few things that’s real to him; the feeling of a fist trying to crush his abdomen or a pole that swings wildly on his arm. It’s an adrenaline high that he is not trying to be cured from. It keeps him focused and guarded on his investigation to reveal the truth and set you free.

And bring you back to him.

Seokmin strips off the rest of his clothes, washes up quickly, and changes into jeans and a white long-sleeved shirt, then pairs them with his leather motorcycle jacket. He puts on the cologne you like, hoping it will stir your memory in some way. He reminisces about the first time you brought the bottle home and sprayed it on him without warning.

“Whoa there, baby. What did you put on me?”

“Your good luck charm,” you said cheekily, holding up a small yellow bottle.

“My good luck charm is standing in front of me,” Seokmin flirted, pulling you by your waist.

“Well, yes,” you agreed, pressing the bottle onto his chest. “But this will give you an extra boost. It smells good.”

Seokmin squinted, trying to detect any deceit. You loved to prank him, and even though he knew what you were doing before it happened, he let you do it anyway. Seeing the joy in your eyes, the warm laugh that bubbled from your throat gave him endorphins no one else could replicate.

"This isn’t some sort of joke, is it?” Seokmin murmured, his hand drifting lower to squeeze your derriere.

“Mm mm,” you shook your head. “No joke, baby. I bought this with you in mind, and I hope it makes you think of me.”

“I think of you all the time,” Seokmin chuckled, leaning in. “It doesn’t take much.”

“Good, my sunflower,” you nodded proudly. You spray his neck lightly, rubbing in the cologne with your fingers. “Now take me to bed.”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Seokmin jolts himself back to the present, clutching the gun hidden in the back of his waistband. He wasn’t expecting anyone over, and aside from Seungcheol and Wonwoo, no one knows where he lives. He stalks towards the door, his heart racing, wondering if all of the bloodshed is catching up to him. Slowly looking into the peephole, he lets out a small breath of relief, followed by an annoyed scoff.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Seokmin unlocks the door, swinging it widely, facing the unwanted visitor.

“Silas.”

“Seokmin.”

The older man lets himself in, brushing his shoulder against Seokmin as a silent test to see if Seokmin will bite. He knows this type of man, the kind who gets a rise out of pushing buttons; they snap, and then the victim becomes the villain, fitting their narrative. Seokmin was almost always one step ahead of him, and he’s sure it's one of the many reasons he hates him.

“Yes, come in.’ he says under his breath, shutting the door.

“Why are you bothering her at the club?” Silas gets right to the point.

Seokmin gives him a slow, unimpressed once-over. “Because she’s my fiancée,” he answers bluntly. “That’s never going to change, no matter how you try to spin it.”

Silas snorts, surveying the space. “I think you need to get your head checked, boy. My daughter doesn’t and will not have anything to do with you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Seokmin scoffs, holding eye contact. “Did you come all this way to puff out your chest? Or are you going to finally be the father she needs?”

Silas’s eyes narrow into menacing slits as he steps toward him, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know shit about what she needs.”

Seokmin lets out a short, dry laugh, feeling it deep in his gut. “Old man, I know way more than you think.” Stepping around him, he opens the door. “If that’s all you have to say.”

Silas does not invoke any fear in Seokmin’s heart. It doesn’t matter how many connections your father has; Seokmin will still find a way to take them down, and he’s doing alright so far.

Silas sneers, turning on his heel and storming down the hall. “You will regret this!” He barks over his shoulder.

“No, I won’t,” Seokmin yells back, slamming the door behind him.

The sound echoes through his apartment, and Seokmin lets out a long, drawn breath, relieving the tension in his abdomen. A visit from Silas is never a good thing, but it doesn’t deter him—it pushes him to dig even deeper to uncover the lies just beneath the surface. How did he know Seokmin was coming to the club? Aside from the obvious, why is Silas bothered by it?

A myriad of questions swirl in his head, his suspicions growing louder. Pulling out his phone, he presses the dial button and is immediately met with a voicemail. 

“Wonwoo. Look into Silas—yes, that Silas. I have a feeling this is bigger than we thought.”

I'm gonna tell you about love Let's forget your life Forget your problems Administration, bills and loads Come with me

You’re one with the rhythm, twirling in a sensual circle as you swing the mic in the air. There is a large attendance tonight, due to a convention in Neo City that brings nerds from all over the planet. You changed up your makeup at the last minute, going for a more divine look that brings out your eyes. Cado gave you shit for it, but you know what you’re doing, and it’s working; once again, everyone is at your mercy, their mouths partly open as you seduce the crowd with your voice.

Connect to the sky Future lovers ride their ambitions high, would you like to try? Let me be your guide, cut inside your pride Future lovers hide love inside their eyes

The red light sparkles on your dress, a tight, short number that accentuates your legs, paired with heels that are an accessory in their own right. Scanning the room, you let the vibrant energy take over, falling into a trance while you perform. Being on stage is truly your happy place, and there isn’t anywhere else you’d want to be.

As you sing, you’re drawn to a pair of warm brown eyes you could get lost in, a slow smile on his lips as he watches your every move. Excitement tingles through your body, and you keep your composure as you strut over to the man of your dreams.

Love controlled by time Future lovers shine for eternity in a world that's free Put away your past, love will never last If you're holding on to a dream that's gone I'm gonna tell you about love Would you like to try?

The final note lingers in the air, a shimmering vibration that seems to hold the entire room in an intoxicating suspension. As the crowd roars in applause, you wink at him, the shimmer of your makeup catching the strobe lights before you gracefully leave the stage.

Your heart is racing, but it’s not just because of the performance. Instead of heading to your dressing room, you detour to the floor, searching for him among all the bodies in colorful attire. You find your dream guy at the bar, ordering a drink with Chan. Despite the butterflies invading your stomach, you take a seat next to him.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet him with your signature low, sultry voice. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You did?” Seokmin responds, a gentle grin on his lips. “That just made my night.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” You wink again. Feeling confident, you grab his hand, slide off your stool, and pull him along. “Walk with me?”

His hands feel the same as they did in your dream; warm, inviting, and safe. You notice the way his eyes dance as you lead him outside to your hideaway spot near the front entrance. You’re fully aware you’re acting recklessly, and you don’t really know Seokmin. For all you know, he could be a mass murderer. But despite all that, something in the back of your mind tells you it’s okay.

You stop in a tucked-away spot in the dimly lit alley, two patio chairs in front of an abandoned building. Streaks of magenta and cyan from the neon signs spread across the brick walls, alternating sides as the light adjusts according to its programming. No one else comes here, and you come here to think whenever the noise gets too loud. It’s your own little sanctuary, a small bit of peace that’s of your own making.

Seokmin digs into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of menthols and opening the carton toward you.

“Want one?”

You smile, taking one and slipping it between your lips. He lights it, his eyes not leaving yours, sending a jolt of sparks throughout your body.

“The man of my dreams,” you murmur as you exhale.

“Am I?” His eyes shift to something softer and unspoken, and you feel heat creep up on your neck.

“Figuratively speaking, of course,” you lie, inhaling deeply.

You exhale the smoke with a perfect ‘O’, watching it rise in the night air until it dissipates. You feel his eyes burning on you, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t know how to explain that you feel drawn to him, and it feels like you were meant to know him. You haven’t had another dream since then, and yet, Seokmin has been in the back of your mind with every thought. You tried shaking it away, meditating away, even sexing it away with someone you met at a bar that you knew you would never see again. Nothing has worked, and you are starting to feel you are truly fucked.

“So what do you do, Seokmin?” you ask, discarding the ash from the stick.

“I’m a private investigator,” he answers, taking a puff of his cigarette. “Been doing it for a while.”

“Yeah?” You say, amused. “So you probably have seen a lot of crazy things.”

“Something like that.”

A sly grin curves on his lips, making him more attractive. “I bet you handle yourself well.”

“I… do my best,” he alludes. “I’m still breathing.”

“You look good and alive to me,” you laugh, your nerves suddenly getting to you. Turning to the side, you slap your hand lightly on your head. This has never been you. You don’t tumble over your words or get tongue-tied over anything, especially men. And yet, Seokmin has you all over the place, stumbling over everything you thought you knew.

“So… what do you do when you’re not hypnotizing clubs or terrorizing your boss?”

You let out an embarrassing snicker, caught off guard by his statement. “What makes you think I terrorize my boss?”

Seokmin throws you a look, a twinkle in his eye as he raises a brow. “You perform like that on stage, and you tell me you aren’t driving your boss nuts?”

You almost choke on your cigarette, laughing. The nerves leave you as easy as they came. “Is it terrorizing or just knowing that I’m right?”

He shrugs with a smirk on his lips. “Touche.”

You shake your head playfully, putting out half of your cigarette. You aren’t really a smoker, but he offered, and you didn’t want to turn him down. Gazing at the sky, the two moons of the planet are full, in a shade of red that appears only once every millennium. How ironic that you are sharing it with the man of your dreams.

“I would ask if you come here often, but I think we know the answer to that,” you say, sauntering closer to him. “I never forget a face—brain injury aside.”

Seokmin bites his bottom lip, turning away slightly to hide a grin.

“It’s okay to laugh,” you encourage him. “My accident didn’t deprive me of my sense of humor, thank gods.”

He lets out a guffaw, his voice echoing off the walls of the alley. In the darkness, you see the light in his eyes, and it melts you. He's even more handsome than he was the first day you saw him.

“You… are funny,” Seokmin manages to say in between breaths. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a comedian?”

“Nah.” You scrunch your nose playfully. “I’d get bored.”

The time on the nearest building dings midnight, signaling your break being over. You don’t want to leave; you want to stay in this place and get to know him, figure out what makes him tick and why you can’t get him out of your head. Silence falls between you two, loud thoughts running through your mind, unsure of what to say next.

“So will you be coming back—”

“—Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

You stare at each other, the silence thick and charged with the kind of electricity that would raise your hair in the wind, followed by a lightning strike. A slow, playful smile curves on your lips as you lean in, the scent of his vanilla-and-spice cologne swirling around you, mixed with the sharp tang of menthols.

“You wanna go out with me?” you tease him. “How do you know I’m not a crazy person who takes their victims into dark alleys?”

Seokmin’s laugh is silvery, his foot itching closer to you, the warmth of his presence vibrating off you. “You’re a creative woman. I’m sure you could do better than that.”

You cock your head back in laughter, almost at a loss for words. “Touche.” Looking back towards the club, you turn to him again. “Walk me back?”

Seokmin holds out his arm to you, and you slip into it easily, like a fitted glove. The walk back is mostly quiet, aside from exchanging numbers and agreeing to see each other in two days. The neon lights dance on your skin, and the club's impending noise grows louder with each step. It’s like you're in your own bubble, existing with him with ease, feeling a sort of peace you didn’t know you needed.

When you reach the entrance, the bubble bursts as Cado leans against the doorframe, arms folded with irritation on his face. His eyes land on you two, his dark pupils narrowing into predatory splits.

“You’re late for your second set, Vixen,” Cado says with a smile that doesn’t match his eyes. “Let’s get you inside, gorgeous.”

He holds out his hand, but his gaze is on Seokmin, his poker face faltering with each second. You glance at Seokmin, who meets the gaze with an unimpressed stare, stepping back slightly to give you space.

“I’ll see you Friday, sunflower.”

You watch him walk away, disappearing into the night. Giddiness takes over; you wish you could leap forward two days. You feel Cado’s hands grip your upper arm, a tad too much pressure, making you wince. You’re ushered back inside, the thumping bass, the thick smoke, and expensive perfume irritating your nose.

“You don’t have to guide me to my dressing room,” you bite. “I’m not a child.”

“If only you knew the concept of time is money,” Cado snaps. “You have five minutes.”

You step into the dim light of your dressing room, the mirror reflecting your image in all of its glory. You quickly tousle your hair, adjust your dress and makeup, and touch your lips with a shade of red that would make the devil jealous. You were done in two minutes instead of five, rolling your eyes at Cado’s attitude earlier.

“I don’t know what his issue is,” you mutter to yourself. “I’m already done.”

Swinging the door open, you make your way to the stage, passing by the boss’s door, which is left slightly ajar.

“Yeah, she’s in the dressing room now… yes, I will keep an eye on her.”

You come to a halt, a chill coming down your spine. You may have lost part of your memory, but you aren’t naive—he is talking about you.

“Yeah… yeah… He was here again.”

Your heart starts to race, everything suddenly feeling heightened as you continue the conversation. Why is Cado so invested in you and who you keep your company with?

“Are you alright?”

You turn around suddenly, facing Chan, who is standing in the hallway, holding boxes of liquor, presumably to stock the bar. You blink, your ears burning from embarrassment and being caught red-handed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you croak, clearing your throat. “I just have a slight headache, that’s all.”

“Oh, if you want, I can give you coltis powder later; that’ll clear it up.”

You give him a weak smile. “I would appreciate it, Chan.”

He nods and walks around you, going back to the bar. You pinch your nose, shaking your head as you let out a loud sigh. Fuck, that was close. Turning around, you see Cado’s door is now closed, ending any chance you had to hear more of the conversation. Disappointment starts to seep in like a leak, but you push it aside, realizing your five minutes are up and it’s time to get on stage. You put on your best poker face, going on stage to applause and cheers, your hands resting on the microphone as you begin your next set.

“Who’s ready for more?”

The crowd cheers.

Turning to your right, you meet the eyes of Cado, who watches you intently with an all-knowing look you can’t understand. You wink at him and begin your set, seemingly showing everyone all is right in the world.

But that’s the opposite of the truth, and it’s far from over.

Part 2 will be posted soon! Let me know what you think in the comments or reblogs <3

“Dinner, tonight?” He asks, and before you have a chance to answer he's giving you an out, “unless you have plans, of course, then we can do it another time, you know, if you want to, and if you don't that's cool.”

You have to refrain from pinning him against the mirrored wall right then and there. When he’s nervous he has a way of making your core clench around nothing, especially as you watch his Adams apple bob against his collar when he swallows. You take a deep breath in through your nose, attempting to calm yourself.

“I would love to go to dinner, Jimin.”

He smiles, eyes widening with surprise, “Really? I mean, ok great. I'll come to your office at 5?”

Ordinarily, you'd want to go back home first and change, but you're worried he'd lose his nerve if you kept him waiting. You'll have to work with what you've got.

“Sounds good.” you reply with a broad smile, unable to hide the glee you feel.

The journey back to the office is fairly quiet, mostly discussing the next case the two of you will be working on. He already wants to start going over depositions, something that takes up a lot of time and often ends up continuing out of work hours, the only perk was spending more time with him.

You part ways, him giving you another devastating smile before heading back to your separate offices. Once that door is shut behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. Another case closed and another one to begin but all leading to spending more time with Jimin.

The last hour of work drags, you retouch your make-up, check your hair twice, and throw some gum in your mouth to freshen up before spitting it in your trash can. At five o’clock on the dot, a knock sounds on your door, always the punctual prince.

“Come in!” You call out and Jimin's face appears in the gap.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure, two minutes, let me just shut down.”

He steps in as you turn your computer off and the door clicks shut behind him. He moves nervously across the room to you as you grab your bag and round the desk.

He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“What's wrong?” You ask, worried he's changed his mind and just doesn't know how to tell you.

“I–” he pauses and takes a breath, “I want to be transparent with you, when I asked you to dinner I was actually asking you out on a date but then I started thinking I wasn't sure if you knew that or if you thought we were going out as colleagues,” he speaks very fast, eyes bouncing all over the room. “But I wanted to clarify because if you don't want this to be a date, I am absolutely fine with that and we can just go to dinner as colleagues, not a problem. Sorry if I'm making this weird, I just didn't want you to think that–”

You stride across the room, closing the space between you as he babbles on, and grabbing the lapels of his blazer you pull him into a desperate kiss. For a moment he freezes, enough to make you doubt yourself but when you break the kiss and start to pull away, he leans back in. One hand cups the side of your face and the other winds around your back, holding you in place. His lips touch yours again with a hunger so fierce it almost buckles you. You find yourself moving backwards without any thought until your calves hit the sofa, knocking you down and taking Jimin with you. In any other circumstance you would have laughed, but feeling his hands hesitantly traverse your body dissipates any humour and replaces it with a raw, consuming need for him.

“Wait,” he whispers against your mouth, “here? Are you sure?”

You chuckle and can't help rolling your eyes. “Do you always have to be such a good boy, Park Jimin?”

You're delighted to see a flush of red hue from under the collar of his shirt all the way up to his hair line.

“Don't worry,” you interject his embarrassment, “I like good boys.”

He bites his bottom lip and smiles, cheeks full of blush, “I just don't want you to think this is the only reason I asked you on a date.”

God, why does he have to be so damn sweet all the time. “How long have we known each other?”

“Three years, six months and fourteen days.” He says, so matter-of-factly your breath catches in your throat. For a moment you think he's kidding but the longer you stare at his serious expression you come to realise you are wrong.

“Do you know the hours, minutes and seconds too?” you tease.

He chuckles, looking away, “I could work it out.”

A low moan sounds in the back of your throat as you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you again, “You're so sexy,”

“Nerds turn you on then?” He jokes as his lips move down your cheek and find your jaw, but there's an insecurity there hiding beneath the surface you can hear it in his voice, a hope in his hesitation.

You cup his face and pull him up to look at you, “Not any nerd, just you.”

You notice the deep breath he takes, his eyes glittering with optimism, as he strokes the hair off your face.

“Jimin, I've wanted you for a long time and I really do want that date. I've been hoping you'd ask,” you pause and he begins to lift himself off you, you can see the slight panic as he misunderstands. You pin him back against you, wrapping your legs around his waist. “But please, if you don't fuck me right now, I may just loose my mind.”

A heat surges in his stare as his hungry gaze travels to your mouth, “If that is what you want, then I must obey.”

He purrs that last word so seductively your core throbs, gaining its own frantic heartbeat. Then, his lips are on you, making you gasp in surprise, his tongue slides smoothly into your mouth, dancing sensually with yours. But you can't focus when his hands skate gently along your body, sending ripples of pleasure through you.

Items of clothing are removed quickly and messily, as his mouth decorates your abdomen with invisible lip marks. He pushes your skirt up around your waist as he slides down until he's kneeling on the plush carpet, slotting his shoulders between your thighs. Hooking a finger into your lace underwear and pulling it aside, his perfect lips envelop your needy cunt, moving with such expert precision your back arches and your toes curl. The air feels like it's been sucked out of your lungs when you try to gasp for breath, and instead let out a loud moan that has him chuckling against you.

“Someone will hear you.” He says, his voice deeper than usual and thick with want, before licking a stripe up through your centre and flicking your clit at the end.

“I don't care.” You gasp, writhing beneath him, but he pins your hips down making you whine. You love this forceful side of him, taking charge and in command just like in the courtroom.

Your fingers find his hair, raking through them to get a better look at his face while he works wonders. His tongue swirls around your sensitive bud in a frenzy, and you can't catch your breath, and just as that band in your stomach begins to tighten he pulls away. His mouth glistening with your arousal stretches into a cocky smirk. Frustration leave you in the form of a growl and you sit up on your elbows, “I was just about to-”

“I know,” he cuts you off. “But I want to feel you come around me.”

He sits on his heels, pulls a foil wrapper out of his wallet and breaks it open with his teeth. Sliding it onto himself, he crawls slowly up your body, making your heart race as you lay back again. Lining himself up at your entryway, you feel him pause, begging to be permitted entry and you respond, leaning up to pull him into a heated kiss. Tasting yourself on him brings a fresh wave of arousal blossoming inside you like a flower opening up to the sun.

Gently, he slides himself inside you, your whole body feels electric, a heat rampaging through you enough to destroy an entire forest.

Unable to control yourself, you hook your legs around his waist and use your feet to push him deeper inside, encouraging him to move faster. You roll your hips to match his movements as he angles up sliding in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot.

Slipping your hands underneath his shirt, your fingernails rake along the skin of his back as you desperately chase that high. His lips explore the expanse of your throat as his hands massage your breasts and the flesh of your hips, he cannot get enough of you and you relish in it.

Your moans and his grunts fill the space, you should be worried about people hearing but you're not. Not at all.

That familiar build up starts again, expanding inside you like a balloon, your legs are tense and your toes curled. Suddenly, it pops and wave, upon wave of pleasure rush through you. Your core spasms wildly around him, milking him of his orgasm too. His thrusts turn sloppy as he returns from his high, collapsing on you and panting heavily.

“Fuck.” He says into your neck. “That was…” he struggles to find the words.

“Unexpected?” You interject giggling.

“Definitely.” He leans up to look at you, the heat and hunger sated and replaced with the usual sweet and gentle look you're used to. “But I am not complaining.”

He presses his lips to yours softly before sliding out of you and removing the condom.

You sit up, fix your underwear and straighten your skirt. While he re-adjusts himself you turn to give him some privacy, attempting to smooth down your wild hair in the reflection of one of the photographs in your office.

“I meant what I said,” you start, turning hesitantly to look at him. He watches, waiting for you to continue. “I really do want that date. I know colleagues technically aren't allowed to, but I'm up for figuring a way around it, if you are?”

He beams at you, his cheeks turning pink. “Ok, good, I was hoping you'd say that. Shall we, then?” He asks, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Kookie?” you say quietly as you stand and place your book back down on your table.

His beaming grin has you mirroring him with your own; he always had that effect on you.

“I can’t believe it's you!” he says, pulling you into a hug, and as soon as you squeeze your arms around his neck, he lifts you off the floor and spins you around. When he returns you to your feet, you're giggling and pinching his cheeks, making him blush a little, but he doesn’t pull away, just stares at you in the same wide-eyed manner as he always used to.

Oh, fuck. Is he with him? The sudden thought has you frozen in place as your eyes dart around, landing on everyone you can see, searching for that familiar blonde hair amongst them.

“It’s ok,” Jungkook starts, “he’s not here.”

You release a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, and just that sentence is enough to have you relaxing again.

You take him in, broader than the last time you saw him, his muscular arms particularly noticeable in his tight t-shirt. No longer afraid to have his tattoo on show, you notice appreciatively.

“Come, sit, join me,” you say, taking your seat again and pointing to the empty chair beside yours, glad when he takes you up on the offer. “What are you doing here?” you ask, leaning forward eagerly, wanting to hear about everything you've missed.

“We’re shooting a music video for the lead single on our new album,” he says proudly, the wood of his seat creaking as he leans back.

“I have heard about the highly anticipated new album.” You grin as you bring your coffee cup up to your lips to take a sip.

Raising an eyebrow at you, he tries to rein in his smile but fails miserably. “So, you've been keeping tabs on us, then?”

This makes you chuckle, what did he expect? “Of course. I loved your album too, I listen to it all the time.”

His eyes widen and mouth forms into a small ‘o’, and it makes you giggle. “You listened to Golden? What's your favourite song?”

Why did this feel like a test? No matter, you would pass with flying colours. “Easy, either ‘standing next to you’ or ‘Yes or no’.”

He smirks playfully. “Ok, well, don't I feel special.”

Shaking your head at him, a thought suddenly had a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. “If you're here for the new album, that means Jimin is here too?”

He grimaces awkwardly, and a seriousness falls over his face as he studies you. “Yes, but he’s back at our hotel, training. You won’t see him here, don’t worry,” he insists, putting his hands up in surrender, attempting to ease your concern.

You fly halfway across the world, picking somewhere completely random and yet you end up in the same city as the person you’ve been avoiding for the last four years. If you were honest, are you even surprised at this point? Soulmates are drawn to each other, after all.

“How long are you here for?” he asks, fiddling with your napkin, the habit of fidgeting clearly still very prominent. Not that you've ever minded it.

“Ten days, you?”

He smiles at you hesitantly. “Just a week.”

A week. A week of looking over your shoulder and searching for his face in every person you pass. “Great,” you mumble to yourself, but when you look up and see Jungkook's sad expression, you know he caught it, and it's as if someone punched you in the gut. Guilt consumes you and a large knot forms in your stomach. “I'm sorry, Kookie, I really am happy to see you.”

Placing your hand on top of his, he grabs it and squeezes your fingers, giving you a false smile. “There was a time when we were friends,” he starts, avoiding your eyes and staring at the napkin he's ripped up into small pieces. “Do you remember how close we were?”

You nod, your lower lip trembling with the thoughts of everything you miss. “I'm sorry, I should have stayed in contact with you. I wanted to - I just…” your voice trails off, not even sure what to say at this point. Four years is a long time, how can you justify that?

“Hey, it's ok,” he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, “I understand, I do. I know how hard it was for you to walk away. I just…I miss you.”

His words slice into you like a fast knife, so quick you barely saw it coming, and without warning, a tear escapes and trails slowly down your cheek. He sits up, sliding his chair closer to you and wipes it away with the back of his hand. “I'm sorry, please don't cry, I'm not trying to upset you,” he panics.

“I know.” Squeezing his hand tighter, you admit, “I miss you, too.”

“Jungkook,” the security member with him steps in apologetically, “we should be getting back, you'll be late for the schedule.”

He nods before turning back to you and rolling his eyes. “The dreaded schedule.” He lets out a lengthy sigh and stretches his neck, making it click. “Meet me back here tomorrow morning? I'll have more time, and we can have a proper catch up?”

Thinking it over, you know the answer before you've had a chance to weigh up the pros and cons. You can't say no to him when he's looking at you so happy and hopeful. “Sure. That would be nice.”

When he stands, you join him, and he quickly pulls you into an embrace. “I'll be here at eight,” he says quietly, holding onto you for a moment longer.

You nod into his shoulder. “I'll be here.”

He pulls back, smiling at you and pressing his lips briefly to your forehead. “It's so good to see you.”

You cannot describe the overwhelming, safe, familiar feeling he brings you.

From the moment you and Jimin had started dating, and you met Jungkook, you had instantly clicked in a different way than with the other BTS members. You and Jungkook were as close as siblings; you teased him like a younger brother, and he looked up to you like an older sister, always confiding in each other and being that shoulder to cry on in your toughest times.

The night you'd had enough and made the impossible decision to leave Jimin, Jungkook was the one who ran to your side and cradled you in silence while you cried.

He stayed at your house for weeks, cooking to make sure you were eating, forcing you to get up and do things when you were catatonic. But the two of you remaining so close made it impossible to…there isn't a word for it. Move on? How can someone move on from their soulmate? They can't.

When you find them, everything clicks into place, you become bound to one another, your souls intertwined forever. When you were with Jimin, you could breathe, you felt whole, you were happy…until you weren't.

Being the soulmate of an idol comes with its own cost, one you were more than willing to pay, for a while anyway. But after three years living your life with him, you had left.

If someone had taken a knife and stabbed you in the heart, it would have been less painful than what you felt, and so many times you ended up back at his door. Each night, comforting each other in the darkness, lips on his, body to body, searching for answers you were never going to find. And each time you left, it was torture.

Jungkook had stayed because he was worried. He went between you and Jimin, consoling both any chance he got, until you realised how unfair it was for him to be stuck in the middle. He was exhausted, dark circles permanently under his eyes, no time for anything other than the two of you. He neglected his training, his work, himself. Once you realised that, it was a huge wake up call.

You found an apartment in another country and left. You said your goodbyes to Jungkook, a final nail in the coffin and didn't look back, knowing him and Jimin would be better off without your presence hindering their lives. You plunged head first into your new city, new career, and new life for yourself. An incomplete one but a life nonetheless.

To find yourself back in Jungkook's presence has reminded you, not only of everything you miss but of everything you left behind. And you were not ready to go anywhere near that world. But being around Jungkook felt safe, comforting and loving. Things you have not felt since you left four years ago. You could enjoy it for one day, right?

“I have to go. Sorry.” He gives you a beaming grin and heads off down the wooden steps and onto the beach.

“Kookie?” you call out as quietly as you can as you follow him to the steps.

He pauses and turns to you.

“Please don't tell Jimin I'm here.”

His face falls, and he looks off, a worried expression furrowing his brow. “I can't lie to him.”

You sigh, hating the position you're putting him in, but you have no other choice. “It's not lying, you're just not mentioning it.”

He gives you a curt nod, turns and jogs off along the beach with his security, leaving you with a rock in the pit of your stomach, having a feeling you won't be able to avoid seeing Jimin the whole week.

*

After a lovely meal in a restaurant on the seafront overlooking the ocean at sunset, you went back to your bed a little tipsy, enjoying your dinner with more than a couple glasses of wine. With your eyes heavy and begging for sleep, it wasn't long before you were pulled under its blanket and dreamt of Jimin. This was a regular occurrence, but the time between dreams of him has been growing longer recently, much to your relief and simultaneous disappointment.

When your eyes snap open to the bright morning light streaming through the thin curtains, a familiar ache in your chest makes you curl up into a ball and hug your knees.

Seeing his face behind your eyes every time you close them, and the feeling of his lips against yours felt so real, you could almost taste him. Licking your lips, you attempt to savour the moment before the fog of sleep completely dissipates, leaving nothing but the harsh reality of life without him.

Glancing at the time on your phone, you have an hour before you meet Jungkook. Maybe a morning swim in the ocean would start your day off nicely.

Throwing off the covers, you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth, shower and change into your swimming costume. Then, grabbing your towel, you rush off outside, trying to leave all thoughts of Jimin behind and back in that bed.

The whole stretch of sand as far as your eye can see is pretty empty, only a handful of people are already out. Finding a spot to leave your towel and belongings is easy on the vacant beach, then you race off into the water. As the tide laps over your feet, you give yourself a moment to adjust to the temperature; not freezing but not warm yet either, before heading further in. By the time the water’s up to your waist, it almost takes your breath away, but the bright sun, already fairly high in the sky, warms your skin. Diving in, you swim through the gentle current. There's something different about being in the ocean, something that makes you feel at peace. When you start to get really tired and out of breath, you turn on your back and float, staring up at the sky and searching for shapes in the clouds.

“Care for company?” You recognise Jungkook's voice instantly and sit up to tread water as he glides towards you.

“You're early,” you reply with a grin.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Are you still as good a swimmer as I remember?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I'm better.”

He arches a brow at the challenge. “Alright, first one to touch that buoy wins.” He points to the bright orange marker ahead.

Grinning widely, you agree, “You're on. Three, two, one, go,” you countdown quickly, hoping for a headstart, but he's on your tail in an instant. You remain in the lead up until a metre from the finish, and he swoops past you. But determination takes over, and you find yourself grabbing his shoulders and clambering onto his back. He shouts out to you and tries to knock you off, but this only makes you cling on tighter as you burst out laughing. He chuckles as his head sinks below the surface until he finds his bearings and powers through the water with you on his back, leaning forward, legs tight around his waist. Just as he's a foot away from the buoy, you lunge forward at it, touching it a couple of seconds before he does.

You erupt into cheers, watching the grin on his face broaden further.

“You cheated, that doesn't count,” he argues, splashing you in the face with water, making you gasp.

“I beg to differ, all you said was ‘first one to touch the buoy’. There were no specifications or rules, therefore - technically, it was not cheating.”

He rolls his eyes, a silent admission of his defeat, but before you can say anything else, he lunges towards you, grabbing you around the waist, lifting you and throwing you back into the water.

After a few minutes of playing around in the water, you both begin to head back to the shore.

“I came here early hoping to catch you,” he says, still trying to catch his breath as you wade through the water together. “I can't join you for coffee anymore, sorry.” He winces.

Nudging his shoulder, you say, “Hey, that's ok, I know your schedule must be crazy. Playing around in the sea will have to suffice.”

He looks down at his feet as you walk slowly out of the water, his whole demeanor no longer relaxed and carefree like he was in the ocean. His shoulders are tense, and he won't meet your eyes. Your stomach sinks, a thought lurking deep in your mind that churns away inside. “What is it, Kookie?” you demand.

He sighs. “I wasn't going to say anything, I promise,” he starts rambling, “but they all knew something was going on. They thought I'd met my soulmate, so I had to tell them. I'm so sorry.”

And just like that, the niggling thought that had been troubling you since you saw Jungkook yesterday became a reality.

“And, well, Jimin really wants to see you.”

“No,” you say, staring at him flatly. “I can't.”

He grimaces then and looks up guiltily towards the beach. Following his gaze to where you left your belongings, the world around you seems to stand still as your eyes connect with Jimin, and my god, did he look even more beautiful than you remembered, your dreams had not done him justice. His shoulder-length blonde locks, much longer than when you last saw him, move in the gentle morning breeze and suit him in a way you couldn’t have imagined. His plump full lips pull up into a smile so devastating, your knees wobble slightly as you remember the way they felt against yours in the dream you had last night. But you can’t return it. You’re already in panic mode, fight or flight. Your legs are powering you forward against your will, feet slapping against the surf and sinking into the wet sand with each step. Your heart, pounding so hard it hurts, desperate to be reunited with its other half, but you can’t do it. You can’t go through it all again.

Jungkook tries grabbing your hand, but you pull away, even after he calls your name. You can’t stop, your feet charging forward with a purpose: to get you the hell out of here.

You glance at Jimin. His smile has vanished, replaced with a worrisome brow, even his security is watching you, full of concern. When you're a couple of metres away, Jimin says your name, and it makes you pause for just a moment. It's long enough for Jungkook to swoop in front of you, hands on both your arms, and his big, dark eyes searching yours.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly, “but I couldn't keep this from him.” He pulls you against his chest and holds you so tight you almost feel like you're not falling apart.

“I care about both of you, and I know how much you are hurting,” he whispers. “I've seen how much he's hurting, every day, and how much he misses you. Please, just hear him out.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you think about the love of your life standing only steps away from you. You think about when you left; you didn't even say a proper goodbye, you simply said everything in the form of a letter and were gone, shutting him out completely because you couldn't deal with more than that. Maybe you owe him that much, the chance to say goodbye, the chance for closure, even though it's impossible. But then you also think about Jungkook, how he's stuck in between you both, and after everything he's done for you, you would do anything for him.

And so you nod. “Fine,” you mumble against his chest, and he releases you, looking so relieved that he looks like he might cry.

“Thank you,” he says, kissing your forehead and waving Jimin over.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm your frantic heart, you watch as he hesitantly closes the distance between you. A shy smile on his face, reminding you of that boy you first met years ago, insecure and unsure of himself but so sweet and endearing all at once.

“You can walk me back to my apartment, which is just there.” You point a little way down the beach. “That's it, nothing else,” you insist.

He nods and puts his hands up in surrender. “I hear you, I just want to talk, that's all, then I'll leave you alone.”

You know you can trust him, but can you trust yourself? Are you strong enough to hold onto your decision? You didn't feel it at this moment, not with his sweet face staring back at you so full of love. But you push that aside and throw on a shirt over your bikini before grabbing the rest of your stuff you left on the sand.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jungkook asks, eyes flitting between you both.

You look to Jimin, who gives you an encouraging smile. “If it makes you feel better, I'm fine with it.”

You and Jimin alone — the thought terrified you, but you need to strap your big girl boots on and face this. Besides, you've put Jungkook through enough.

“No, it's ok. I'll see you later, maybe?”

He nods. “I'll call you.” He gives you a grin before running off down the beach with his security, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and you're sure the sun has disappeared behind the clouds, leaving a grey cast across the beach that doesn't match the warmth in the air.

Jimin walks over to his security, looking on a stone’s throw away, and has a quiet word with him, sending him away before returning to you. “Shall we?”

Nodding, you lead the way back along the sand towards your apartment. The silence is so tense it's almost choking, and in a panic, the words are out before you've fully thought about them, “What is it you want, Jimin?”

He smiles sadly, staring down at his feet. “I came to find you, you know, after you left. Four times.”

His admission stuns you and makes your feet pause.

“What? When?”

He sighs, “Every year, around the anniversary of the day we met, I'd fly to the States.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly sheepish. “I contacted someone to track you down – sorry, now I'm hearing it out loud, I realise how stalkerish that sounds.”

You let out an amused breath through your nose, unable to do more than that while still reeling at this information.

“So, if you knew where I was this whole time, why didn't you…” Your thought trails off, trying to make sense of it.

He shrugs. “I was…scared. You had already left once. And I understand why, I really do, I never blamed you for that. But the thought of knowing it was really over, of not being able to hope that you'd come back, felt too much.”

“So, every year you came to find me and then what? You'd go home?”

His cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, that makes your heart beat a little bit faster, and he gently moves the sand with his sandal. “Every year I came, it was with the intention to beg you to come home. I'd build myself up, so sure I could do it. I'd wait until I saw you; walking home from work, going to a coffee shop, taking a walk along the river. But as soon as I'd see you, more beautiful than ever, so light and free with this new life you created, I couldn't bear to come in and ruin it. I'd imagine you going home to someone who treats you good, someone who'll move heaven and earth just to see you smile. I'd think about your job, and how you dreamed of that long before we met and worked so hard to get it. I couldn't come in and ask you to stop your whole life just for me.”

You frown, confused and irritated. “Let me get this straight. You came all that way and ran off like a scared little boy?”

He flinches at that, looking uncomfortable, eyebrows turned up in confusion as this conversation clearly isn't going the way he thought it would.

“Instead of actually doing better and offering me a proper relationship, you just left again?” Your eyes search his desperately, looking for answers, but all he looks back at you with is anguish and helplessness. “You are so full of excuses, Jimin. You always have been.”

With that, you turn and begin walking again, but he grabs your hand. “No, wait, please.”

You stop, with your back to him and your eyes focused on your apartment, and give him a minute to continue, hoping and wishing he can get this right.

You want to come home to him, you always have. You want him to be there when you get home, but you deserve to be treated right, not tossed aside as if you don't matter.

“Please, it's different this time,” he pleads, and you let out a bitter laugh.

“I’ve lost count of how many times you've said that. It's never different, Jimin,” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his and stepping away, needing to put some distance between you as you can feel yourself being pulled back in. Just being in his presence is hard enough, but looking into his pleading eyes is almost too much to stay strong.

“Baby, please, I mean it this time.” He reaches out to you again, capturing your wrist and gently pulling it back towards him. “I can't live without you anymore.”

With his words, a dark cloud rolls across the sky, hiding the sun and covering the two of you in a grey cast. Your eyes dart to the water; suddenly, the waves are choppy, and the surf creeps faster up the sand than when you were just in it. The few people who had been on the beach were quickly vacating, giving you an uneasy feeling inside. The sand dances along the beach, making elegant patterns as it moves in the brisk breeze that's whipping your hair around your face.

A rumble in the distance draws both your attention upward, staring up at the gloomy sky, before he returns his focus back to you, stepping forward and leaving only a hair’s width of space between you.

“I will do whatever it takes to have you in my life,” he says, the words so intense you almost believe every single one. But you've been here before, and you know better. “I'm sorry,” he continues, taking your hands in his, and this time you don't pull away.

As you stare back into his desperate, pleading eyes, you feel your resolve start to falter. Something about the way he's staring at you and the need you see there that makes that wall you've built start to crumble.

“I'm sorry for all the times you felt like you weren't good enough.” He continues, “I'm sorry for not listening to your needs. I'm sorry for all those nights you waited up for me, and I didn't show. I'm sorry for hiding you and lying about you to everyone who asked, even other idols, when I knew how it hurt you. I'm sorry for not appreciating you enough because I expected you to always be there. I'm sorry for letting you walk out in the first place, I should have fought harder. But I have changed and I will continue to change, to be better, not just for you but myself.” He pauses to take a breath, eyes brimming with tears that yours surely mirror. “And I know that I don’t deserve another chance of you loving me, but I'm begging you,” he lands on his knees in the sand with a thud, “please, give me one last chance to prove things will be different and that I can be the man that you deserve.”

As he looks up at you, a tear finally breaks free from the dam and runs slowly down his cheek and as it does, a drop of rain lands on your head, then another and another. Suddenly, the drops are pelting down from the sky so hard around you, the landscape is but a hazy blur.

Collapsing to your knees, you can't help but reach out and wipe that tear away with your thumb. And as you do, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and savouring the moment. The touch of his skin has your fingers tingling, a current running from him through to you, an invisible rope pulling you in again, just as his arms snake around your waist to keep you there. You can't deny how good it feels to be here, in his embrace, feeling all worries and concerns melt away into the background. Deciding to listen to your heart, pounding so loud it's practically screaming at you, instead of your head, full of questions you can't answer yet.

Water pours down your faces, but you don't care, all that matters at this moment is you and him. A flash of bright light across the dark sky is the green light you both need as he captures your lips in a fiery kiss so heated that even the devils at the gates of hell would be jealous. Thunder rumbles loudly around you, but all you can focus on is the way his hands feel against your back, holding you firmly against his hard body, and the way his lips feel exploring yours. You let yourself fall back into your bubble of love with him, even if it's only for tonight. Slowly, your guard comes down, and you find yourself exploring his mouth more fervently as if he could disappear at any moment, just like he did in your dream last night.

The taste of his lips is better than your memory has kept all these years, and when his tongue slides across yours, it lights a fire in you more powerful than a thousand suns. You're breaking the kiss and getting to your feet in an instant, pulling him up and leading him quickly to your apartment.

Shutting the door behind you, quelling some of the storm outside, you stare at each other fixed in place. The air around you is so charged you can practically hear the buzz of electricity between you, you can feel it pulling you closer, drawing you in. He moves towards you, every slow step deliberate and giving you an out, but you don't want it. You need him.

Both of you dripping, clothes see through and clinging to skin, now feeling too tight and uncomfortable. He fingers the buttons of your shirt before he peels it away from your skin and lets it drop with a slap on the wooden floor.

You follow his movements as he circles around behind you. When you feel him pull on the ties at the back of your bikini, your already pounding heart picks up pace. His fingers trace lightly across the skin of your back, sending a ripple of goosebumps down your spine, as he returns to you. He stares at you with a want so powerful you can feel it, a heat radiating from him that teases your skin. He pulls at your bikini top stuck to your breasts, and it joins your shirt on the floor. Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air hits your wet skin.

His fingers go to your hips, at the ties on your bikini bottoms. You're growing impatient to have him touch you, really touch you, to make you feel the way he used to, but at the same time, you can't take your eyes off him. He pulls at the strings on both sides and then tugs them down before taking a step back and marvelling at your naked body with an anguished brow, teeth finding anchorage in his plump bottom lip.

“God, I missed you, baby,” he sighs, closing the space between you both and pulling you against him. He kisses you, softly this time, savouring the moment.

His hands roam your body, tracing every curve and making you shiver with desire. You mould against him perfectly, but the layer of fabric between your flesh frustrates you.

Your fingers race to his buttons with none of the patience he displayed, but with your hands trembling, the task feels impossible. You growl to yourself and opt for ripping the shirt off him instead. The buttons splat out all over the room, clicking against anything they hit.

He pulls back, surprised. “This shirt cost me a lot of money, but that is so fucking hot.” His mouth captures yours again as he fumbles with his shorts, and you try to help as he pushes you towards the bed. A mess of hands and fabric, the desperation between you both so intense, you feel like you can't breathe.

As your back hits the cushioned mattress, he falls with you, his weight above you and his naked flesh against yours, taking you back to a time when you would get lost with him for hours, exploring every part of each other. Surprising how, in one moment, you can be back there again.

You feel his erection at your entryway, begging to be let in. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you use your feet to coax him inside you. You're so needy for him, he has no problem sliding inside. As he begins to move, each thrust sending a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to you that makes your heart swell each time, his lips move along your jaw, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Say you'll stay with me.”

Your moans echo in the quiet room, much louder than the rain beating against your windows.

“Please, baby, say it,” he groans against your throat.

You can't think, let alone speak. All you want is him, every day, for the rest of your life. You can't possibly live without him now.

He picks up his pace, hips angling at just that perfect way you like, reaching just the right spot that makes your toes curl.

“Say you're mine, please,” he breathes.

As your insides pull tight, your breath ragged and heart racing, you call out his name as you unravel around him and tell him what he's so desperate to hear. ‘I’m yours, Jimin, I'll stay.”

With that, he releases himself inside you as he peppers eager kisses down your neck, and as his movements slow, he collapses on top of you, holding you tightly. He slides out of you, settling between your breasts.

“I'll talk to the company about releasing a statement,” he says gently, but in your blissed out haze, you can't make sense of his words.

“What are you talking about?” you say as you stroke his hair.

He lifts his head up to look at you. “A statement announcing I've found my soulmate.”

Your recovering heart suddenly slams back into overdrive, pounding so hard, you know he can feel it as he leans his chin on your chest. “Jimin, you can't be serious.”

He smirks at you with a one sided smile that has your core clenching around nothing. “Let me show you how serious I am.” He replies as he begins a trail of kisses across your breasts and down your stomach.

After hours of endless leg shaking ecstasy, desperate pleas and calling out names, you fall curled up against him, leaving the worries of decisions as a problem for later.

*

Waking from the deepest sleep you've had in a while to orange sunlight streaming in through the window, flashes from this morning play behind your sleepy eyelids. Your lips swollen from kissing, your muscles aching and your core sore but in the best way possible, you reach out to the other side of the bed to pull Jimin close, but your searching fingertips find nothing.

Your eyes snap open and look frantically around your apartment, could he have left already? Did he mean anything he said?

Your stomach twists anxiously at the idea of having to start life again without him, but in the midst of your spiralling thoughts, you hear a murmur of a voice in the distance. Your eyes are drawn to the double doors overlooking the beach, left ajar. Through the thin white curtains, you can see a figure standing on the porch.

Climbing out of bed and covering your naked body with your long white shirt, you wrap it around yourself and step outside. This morning's thunderstorm is a distant memory, the sand is dry and the sun hot and setting below the horizon, and the calm sea lazily laps at the shore.

Jimin stands on the porch staring at the ocean, phone at his ear, leaning on the wooden railing, his open shirt billowing in the breeze, looking picture perfect.

“Yes, ok, thanks,” he says before hanging up. Your arms wrap around his waist, pressing your cheek to his back, and he instantly holds your hands tight to keep you there.

“Good evening, beautiful,” he says gently.

“Hi,” you reply, smiling against him. He turns in your grasp, giving you the opportunity to hook your fingers behind his neck and him an excuse to grab your rear.

“I thought you'd left,” you admit, feeling a warmth tint your cheeks.

He looks pained for a minute before hooking your chin up to meet his eyes. “Without saying goodbye?”

You smile sheepishly, a sadness beginning to creep in at the thought of him leaving. Any moment yet, he'll announce he needs to go or he has a schedule, some parting excuse.

“I take it you haven't checked your phone yet,” he says, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

This makes you frown, what on earth could he mean?

“No,” you reply, bewildered.

“Maybe you should,” he says, fighting a smirk.

Breaking the embrace, you head back into the bedroom, looking in the obvious places for it, and quite quickly, you become frantic. Where the hell is your phone?

Suddenly, you spot it on the floor, sticking out from under the bed, and make a dive for it. Unlocking it, you see a usual amount of notifications, but it was the news headline that sat at the top that had your entire focus:

“Global BTS superstar Park Jimin finds soulmate.”

Your heart swells like a balloon in your chest, fit to pop as you click on the story and read.

“He's officially off the market, army!”

The tagline makes you laugh as you skim through the words. You aren't mentioned by name, but you aren't a secret anymore.

“We've not been told what that means for Jimin specifically, but in the statement released by Hybe earlier today, they assure army all members of BTS will remain together and continue preparations for the upcoming album release and world tour.”

Jimin's hands find your hips and turn you to face him. He takes the phone gently from your grasp and throws it on the bed. “I love you,” he whispers, touching his forehead to yours. And for the first time in a long time, you feel completely at peace. Everything feels how it should be, and you can't wait to start your life with him, however that might look.

San smiles and you melt under his warmth.

But you are serious. He gasps as you lead him to your cot and he watches you impatiently remove your blouse, letting your pretty tits free.

"Oh, you really mean it" He smiles again, but this time is not sweet. Now, he hungers.

"You´ve been thinking about this all day, today´s hunt must have been hell." you giggle as San moves quickly to kneel between your legs. He kisses you. The warmth of his arms got nothing compared to his lips. Hands go immediately to the soft curves of your tits, squeezing and feeling their weight.

You were absolutely right. He couldn´t stop thinking about them all day, and how sweet they would taste.

"That, that feels so good, San."

He groans, soft lips over your nipples. His hooded eyes look up, and he licks one of them sweetly, before moving to the other.

"You taste so good, time or not, it´s never enough."

How the fuck did you get here?

That was the question, the answer one you would need to be open-minded to understand. More open minded than socially acceptable at least.

Because there was no way that they were human. Or that you were on earth. Not your earth at least. Not your realm.

How else do you explain the living walls that moved if you stared too long. How else do you explain this… pressure in the air that felt like it was seeping your soul out from your pores? How else do you explain… him.

You could almost write it off as some models or actors playing some sick and twisted game. Some method acting on an extreme scale. But there was just too much other-worldly for it to be true. There was probably even more that your human brain just couldn't comprehend right now. Maybe it never will.

The man—thing— on the throne was plenty of reason not to focus on anything else. You had been dragged to this stone like podium by 6 others, the red chains pinned to it, and then they stood equally on either side of the man on the throne. Black leathers and furs with chains and jewels of monochrome nature. Black smokey makeup like charcoal around his eyes and a cross on his lips to make him even more intimidating.

Well, the long black horns protruding from his temple and curved back much like his dark ash hair was another give away this man was not human.

He did not have to be staring you down and licking his lip like you were prey of his next meal. Or like you insulted his ancestors and was ready to skin you alive for it. Dramatic? Perhaps, but a situation for this called for dramatic thoughts.

A tall gorgeous man stood behind him peering down his nose at you with disdain, also in black leathers and furs. He had only one horn, smaller in size and almost dainty with how it swished back. The rest of his hair was pushed to the other side to accommodate the horn. It was that man that had found you, bleeding and lost in the most horrific forest you had been in.

Forest- much like the forest you had been in before coming here. But the old forests in Europe on the hiking trails that were supposedly save should not have led you here.

The supposed witch's spell book that you had been reading during a break… okay maybe that would have been the cause for this. That's on you for believing the it was just a fake tourist book in an old shop in one of the oldest most history ridden parts of the continent.

Also proves cursing your ex with the passage you read was more than just blowing off steam and appeasing your desire for revenge long enough to continue your supposedly wholesome hike.

While that might be the answer to how you got from one forest to the next, you never believed in magic or demons or whatever the fuck these men were so how could simply wishing harm for someone with an old book have you tumbling through that horrific black forest?

The man(thing) that had found you running through the black gooey vines and plants and choking on miasma(if you could call it that) leaned over to say something to the man on the throne. The other six hadn't moved a muscle, not even blinked, from their positions lining the stairs.

Whatever they were, the throne was pretty self explanatory. And for who sits on it. This man(thing) was a king of something. And you were probably his responsibility to handle.

You knew better than to think about asking for mercy. They did not seem like the type of people—or place— where mercy was a concept. It was probably laughable. If you looked like the devil incarnate, you probably would laugh in the face of a pitiful human asking for mercy too. Like looking at a cockroach squirming in chemicals as it's life is pitifully torn from it.

To your utter surprise, the first words spoken to you have nothing to do with death or mercy. "Who did you seek revenge on so deeply?"

Blinking owlish at the tall man that had spoke, your eyes were immediately drawn to the one on the throne who was now leaning forward, twisting his head as if he was trying to figure you out or like he was looking for the best angle to devour you. The look on his face implied the later. What sort of person grins like that? Like a madman who could tell things were about to get to his level of interesting. Chaotic.

Even if the one behind him spoke, you knew it was him that you were to reply to. By some… odd intuition. "Someone who deserves it."

"That's not for you to decide." One of the men(things) on the stairs barked out, narrowing their already fierce eyes on you. He was taller than the others, only equal in height to the man directly across from him, neither standing on the stairs but just before.

You glared back, your ire burning hot as you thought of the same people you considered friends take *his( side as if he hadn't done anything wrong. "That's not for you to decide either. I am the one wounded by him, not you."

"You insolent-"

"That's enough Mingi." The man on the throne spoke, silencing the room, even their breathing. "How did he hurt you? I see no scars deserving of what you wished."

"My scars-" you started, turning your burning gaze on the demon on the throne "-are of the heart and ego. A betrayal worth everything I wished upon him."

His grin somehow turned more wicked and wider, teeth growing sharp before your very eyes. "You were loyal to him?" You nodded. "But he was not loyal to you? Words, Darling, I want to hear the emotion in your voice as you recount his misdeeds."

And you did.

It was jarring how easily you opened up about your ex fiance. The man you gave much to. So many years of your life, promising your body, heart, and loyalty when you were still too naive to understand how much weight those carry. How his lies you dismissed because he, and your friends, all said it wasn't as you said. Their word against yours. How he made you believe yourself mad, that you were lucky a man like him loved you.

It took only one weekend for you to realize how much of a fool you had been. How you ignored stranger's concerns eventually because your pride demanded that after all this time, after all you had given him, that walking away would be the worst mistake of your life. It took just one weekend to realize that staying was your biggest mistake.

"The wedding was about a week out. One of my bridesmaids bragged while she thought I was drunk that she was pregnant with his kid, and that the money he made through me as my trophy husband would support that kid. And if I ever tried to stop it, that would just make me a horrible person for denying a child food." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "I called the wedding off the next morning. Racked him with what debt I could of the event even though I paid for most of it. I was hiking through Europe since I booked it all as our honeymoon. Just me, felt like a waste.

"The real waste was all I gave him. I might be the fool who fell for it, but he's the fucking bastard that willing manipulated me. For that, he does deserve the things I curse him with. I can't get that time, that money, my dignity and self-respect back. I get to carry the scars of the wounds he left on my heart, the self-doubt he taught me is only mine to break. To make sure he never amounts to anything, that he loses all he cares for and suffers any time he starts to have hope, seems like a fair exchange. Doesn't it?"

You ended your long winded tirade with a matching tilt of your head to the demon on the throne. Because that's what he had to be. There were flashes, brief moments where the perfect pixie visage of his features distorted to one of horror. Bone and shadow.

He seemed to be feeding on your anguish over your ex. Seemed to devour your ire, maybe even encourage it with the way he leaned forward and motioned with two fingers for more.

Why you indulged it all was beyond you. If it was just because they were demons, that could be it. But you suspected it was because your pride was so hurt that you just wanted someone to be angry with you. Wanted someone to believe you when you said this man needed to be castrated and eat the detached junk. That he should vomit at the taste and choke on it.

"I like that imagery." The man on the throne said, pushing himself off the throne and making his way to you. You realized he was on the smaller side(compared to the others) and yet the energy rolling off him filled the room. Larger than life. "Let me offer it to you, your revenge."

He held his ring clad hand out, the tips of his fingers dainty but as if they were soaked in charcoal. You realized the chains that had bound you were no more, leaving you to take his hand should you wish.

Hesitating, you stared up at him with a look of skepticism. "What is the payment? I have given him much of my life that he does not deserve. I refuse to give more of myself in regards to him."

"Of course, he has given you plenty of reasons to doubt an offered hand. If I say that I will simply give you the tools to torture him for an eternity and all I ask is to watch? Would you believe me?" He tilted his head inquisitively.

You shook yours. "I need a how. Devil is in the details isn't it?"

He laughed, like a maniac giggle more than anything, almost cute in it's pitch. "Oh I really like you. Very well, we can argue the details later. How about we start with letting you enjoy a few days here for rest. After all, it is my fault you are here. I just liked the way your conviction tasted so much I couldn't help myself. It's so rare a witch's emotions entice me so deeply, or even reach me at all.

"Witch?" "Oh… I have so much to teach you Darling. Come. You're on vacation. Enjoy it."

So you took his hand, letting him haul you up and against his chest. He was sturdy and soft, smelling like a sweet wine with just enough aged musk to be intoxicating. He chuckled as you unintentionally breath him in. "My name is Hongjoong by the way, and I am the lord of this realm."

"What realm is that?" You asked, watching as he brought your wounded palm to his lips, a pointed tongue flicking up to lick at the blood and wounds. You flinched at first contact, just to shiver at the feeling of his tongue between your fingers.

"One of the many demon realms you could say." He replied, voice suddenly heavy with something heated and husky.

It distraced you only for a moment before it hit: you were now "vacationing" in a demon realm. Huh. What a way to have a solo honeymoon.

Honestly, at first, it wasn’t intentional. You didn’t mean to accept so many jobs as a Private Investigator which put you right in the Detective’s vicinity so much. You didn’t mean to almost consistently take on jobs that had you stepping on his toes. You just accepted the jobs that seemed interesting to you and did the best you could; even if that meant pointing out things the man missed when you happened to be at the same place, working on the same case, yet answering to different bosses.

But then, when you realised how cute Junhui looks trying to keep his cool, how easily he flusters and loses his ability to string an intelligent sentence together when you turn up and push his buttons just right, well, you couldn’t really help but push at every chance.

Admittedly, you don’t even pay attention to the job sometimes; you read the requests just enough to get the general idea of the job, so that you can figure out if it will be a case that gets dropped on the desk of Detective Wen Junhui to handle or not. Then, once the investigation begins, you spend most of the time bouncing along close to the tall, handsome detective’s side with a pleased grin on your face as you watch him try to pretend that he’s not trying his damndest to keep his composure. His clenched jaw sure is pretty from that angle too, so that’s a nice little bonus of following him like an irritating shadow.

That being said, you never shirk your duties. Every case you take on, you do, in fact, solve; often in collaboration with Junhui. As much as he obviously wishes otherwise, the two of you make an incredible team despite not being colleagues— not when humans aren’t allowed to become cops due to how fragile they are compared to supernatural beings; you know you would’ve made a great cop otherwise.

In fact, you both have better success rates, close more cases, when you’re side by side than apart. At this point, you’re pretty much an honorary cop, and Junhui has clearly been told by his superiors to play nice with you so that fewer crimes remain unsolved— or, at least, get solved quicker.

With your entire heart, you can say that even without getting the chance to watch the tall werewolf try to not snap at you— no pun intended— on an almost daily basis, you would love your job. But getting to watch Junhui’s eyes flicker gold in that moment before he turns away from you is truly the icing on the cake.

It’s just another job, just another day of you and Wen Junhui working side by side to investigate a foul, pathetic excuse of a life form, when things get a little different.

In all you’ve worked together, in all the danger you’ve been in and fought off together, you’ve never been led into a trap like this.

The little, abandoned, underground convenience store you’re in suddenly turns dark with the clunk of a shutter closing. Even with his advanced hearing and speed, Junhui doesn’t manage to notice or move fast enough to stop it from happening; his extended hands meet the metal just as the edge hits the cracked tile flooring below.

“Well, that’s new,” you muse from where you remain in place, knowing that you don’t have a chance in hell of navigating the space without your sight considering all the stuff strewn over the tiled floor; rubbish, debris, and other disgusting items you truly don’t want to get a closer look at.

Junhui doesn’t respond, and you honestly don’t expect him to, but you do hear him huff out an extra frustrated grunt where he’s already trying to physically yank the shutter up, despite the fact that you both know store shutters are made to withstand supernatural strength.

For a few minutes, Junhui incessantly yanks and hits at the metal in his attempts to remove it. At best, all he does is make a tiny dent along the bottom edge, just enough to let a small amount of light filter in. It’s not enough to do much but let you see his feet moving around, but you still stare at it; naturally drawn to whatever allows your simple, human eyesight to function.

“Given up?” you question when the clanging stops and Junhui stumbles back a few steps. He doesn’t answer, but you do hear him let out an almost pained sounding gasp before there’s a thud of what sounds like someone dropping to their knees. “Junhui?” You’ve barely shuffled a few steps forward before he lets out a desperate sounding noise, and there’s another clank of metal as if something has hit it heavily.

“Stay back!” he demands harshly, in such a pained tone that you fall still in shock.

“Are you hurt?” you ask quietly, worried. For all you love to piss off the man, you can admit that you do care for him, quite a lot really.

It’s probably something like little boys pulling the pigtails of the girl they like on the playground, the way you treat Junhui. You like him, more than you’ve ever admitted to anyone, even yourself, and you don’t know how to handle that when he’s evidently far from open to even the mere whisper of a thought of liking you. The man doesn’t even like you as a friend, as an acquaintance; there’s no way he’d ever consider opening his heart to you in a romantic manner. You’ve known that since the start, so you’ve done what you can to shield your own heart, while still annoying him enough that he can’t ignore you or forget that you exist.

“No,” Junhui answers after a moment, though it doesn’t sound truthful; he sounds strained in a way you haven’t heard him before, not even when he got shot with a silver bullet almost two years ago now. You’re not sure he knows it, but you barely left his side for the week he laid unconscious in hospital, too scared that he wasn’t going to pull through.

“Jun–” you start, tone turning a little stern to try and convince him to be honest, though as soon as you try to move from your spot to approach, he growls, and you fall still as your heart races with sudden fear.

In all you’ve taunted the man, in all you’ve pissed him off, he has never growled at you like this. Sure, you’ve heard him growl, he does it quite a lot really, but it’s never laced with such violence, such dark warning. For the first time in the five years you’ve known the man, you’re scared of him.

You’ve always known that really, Junhui could rip your throat out, tear you limb from limb without even breaking a sweat. He’s a werewolf and you a mere human; he’s got all the upper hands where strength, speed, agility, and healing abilities are concerned. But he’s never truly lost his cool with you. He’s never even looked like he would raise a hand at you, doesn’t even drop empty threats your way. For all you piss him off, Junhui is still a gentleman at heart, and has such control over himself that you’ve always instinctively known he won’t hurt you.

Yet now, now you’re questioning that.

“I fucking said stay back!” he bellows, making you jolt at the volume of his harsh words, and stumble back a few steps; tripping over something on the floor, and landing on your ass harshly. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he rushes out, genuinely apologetic, and tone so drastically different to only seconds before that your head spins.

“What’s going on?” is all you can manage to ask as you blindly kick aside the items surrounding you where you remain on the tiles, deciding that you might as well sit down and wait until one of your colleagues realise that neither of you have checked in lately, and come to your rescue. Or whoever trapped you in here comes back to kill you, whatever happens first.

Though, you’re pretty confident that Junhui could easily take who you assume is the man you’ve been hunting down together; a fledgling vampire who hasn’t even cut his gums based on his previous victims. A pureblood werewolf will always trump a turned vampire; unless the werewolf is still just a pup and the turned vampire has at least half a century behind them. And as Junhui is a 30-year-old pureblood werewolf borne of centuries of strong werewolves, and the suspect has to have been turned into a vampire within the last six months to not even have his fangs in yet, Junhui would easily win in that fight and save both of your asses.

“Have you seriously not learned to pay attention to the fucking lunar calendar yet?” he grunts, and the metal creaks as you assume he shuffles where he’s leaning against it on the floor. A shadow flickers, so you glance at the patch of dim moonlight on the tiles only to find Junhui’s hands hovering in it, claws extended.

“It’s a full moon,” you realise, some of that fear trickling back into your body, especially when Junhui hums in confirmation and pulls his hand back out of sight, out of where you can see it and know his position. You know that if it comes down to it, Junhui could easily move so quietly that your human ears wouldn’t hear him; and with your lack of vision due to the darkness right now, you wouldn’t even know about it until his claws are buried in your flesh.

Although werewolves generally have their shifts under control and legally aren’t allowed to be out on full moons without having proven that they have the restraint to not let their instincts take over and send them on a murder rampage, you know that it doesn’t mean a lot in the first few minutes of a forced shift. And under the full moon, all werewolves have no choice but to shift into wolfskin when the moon is at the highest point in the night sky. Even if they can’t see the moon, they can’t fight the shift.

Considering the fact that you regularly go out of your way to piss Wen Junhui off, you know that tonight, your life is in real danger. As soon as he is forced out of his human form and into his wolf one, as soon as he loses himself, all that carefully controlled frustration and anger he holds for you will so easily lead his baser instincts.

“Shit,” you mutter, and he hums. “How long?”

“An hour, maybe.”

“Why did you even come down here when you knew how close the full moon is?!” you ask utterly baffled.

“Because you would’ve come alone otherwise, stubborn asshole,” he grumbles. “I’m not being responsible for a fledgling slitting your throat and draining you.”

“So, instead, you’re going to do it.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes, well aware that the man can see perfectly clearly in the dark so will know what your reaction is.

“I didn’t expect this!” he defends sharply. “I–I didn’t think we’d get trapped like this,” his voice softens again, turns guilty, worried. “I’m sorry, I…I’m really fucking sorry.”

You sigh and let your arms unfold, dropping them to your sides. “It is what it is. After all I’ve pissed you off, I probably deserve to have my leg chewed on,” you joke softly, trying to lift the mood a little.

It works, Junhui huffs a laugh. “Pretty sure it’s not just your leg I’d chew on,” he muses.

“Have you done that before?”

“Bitten someone on the leg?”

“Mm, and in general.”

“Yeah. Never a human though, never someone that can’t easily heal from it.”

You’re quiet for a moment as you consider his words, features pinched as you think about it. “I can’t tell if that’s a kinky sex thing or not,” you admit, and Junhui chokes out a laugh. “No? Yes? Come on, tell me all about werewolf sex; this may be the only chance I get to find out!” you enthuse.

“Please don’t remind me that I’m going to lose control soon,” he whispers, pleads.

“I didn’t mean like that. I just meant I don’t exactly know any other werewolves well enough to ask; and funnily enough, they keep away from me in general anyway. Do I smell weird or something to werewolves, by the way? I’ve always mean to ask you but get distracted and forget.”

“No.”

“No? I don’t smell weird?” He makes a noise of confirmation. “Then why do werewolves specifically avoid me so much?”

“Uhm… just…probably smell me on you,” he admits quietly, awkwardly. “Because we spend so much time together for work that you smell like me; so I guess they think you’re claimed.”

“So you’re the reason I’m not getting any kinky werewolf sex!” you exclaim, going for theatrically displeased, but it can’t land right because Junhui growls softly in warning. “Alright, damn, down boy,” you mutter. “I’m just fucking around.”

“Sorry, it’s the moon.” You don’t fully believe him, something in his tone doesn’t sound entirely truthful, but you just hum and leave the topic there, not wanting to get into it and risk setting him off.

For a couple of minutes, the two of you are quiet. There’s a tenseness to it, the impending violence hanging over your heads in a way neither of you can ignore, but you also can’t do a thing about it. It’s a reluctant acceptance you share, but something makes you think Junhui’s having more trouble than you accepting it. Then again, if you knew you were about to lose control and tear apart an innocent person, you would also not want to accept it and feel the guilt weighing heavy even before the act occurs, regardless of how much said person pisses you off on an almost daily basis.

“To your right, there’s a pole, it looks like a broken stand of some kind,” Junhui’s naturally gentle tone breaks the silence, making you jerk a little in surprise, before automatically looking to your right as if you can see it. Of course, all you see is darkness. “Reach out, I’ll guide you.”

“Why?”

“Because it may be the only hope you have of getting out of this,” he reasons with a slight tremble in his voice. You can’t tell if it’s the thought of what is going to happen, his fear causing the shakiness, or if it’s the effects of the moon getting higher, closer to its peak. “Just– Please do as I say. I know you don’t like me, but just–”

“I have literally never said that,” you say, sharp as you cut him off and turn a stern look on him. At least, where you think he is; you have no way to know for sure.

Junhui hesitates before responding, as if he’s truly stumped by your words. “You don’t hate me?” he mumbles, barely audible as if he can hardly get the words out.

“What? Hate you? No way! I don’t think anyone is capable of hating you, Jun,” you retort with a scoff. “Seriously, I think even the people you arrest don’t hate you.”

“Pretty sure they do.” He chuckles.

“Well, you thought I hate you, so I don’t think your judgement here is accurate or valid.”

“In my defence, you’ve been finding every single way to annoy me for the past five years. It’s hard to think you don’t think negatively of me,” he reasons, and well, he’s got a point there.

“And in my defence, you started it.”

“How?!”

“You refused to work with me when we met, treated me as lesser because I’m a PI. If I could be a cop, I would be; it’s not my fault it’s literally illegal.”

“That’s not what I was doing at all.”

“Really?” You give him a disbelieving look that you know he can so easily see and feel the full force of— even if you happen to be glaring at the shutter over his shoulder and not directly at him, though you’re not aware of that little fact. “I distinctly remember you saying I’m not working with someone like her, the first time you were told to work with me.”

“I didn’t mean because you’re a PI.”

“No? Then what?” In the awkward silence that follows, the guilty silence, you understand. “It’s because I’m human.” Junhui sighs, and you know you’re right. “Well, fuck you, Wen Junhui! How fucking dare you look down on me because of how I was born! You’re not automatically better than me just because you’re a werewolf, so get the fuck down from your pedestal and give me the respect I deserve.”

“No, no, no,” he says quickly. “It’s not like that at all. I don’t think of humans as a lesser species. All species are equal as far as I’m concerned.” He sounds like he’s being truthful, but you don’t remove your hard expression, not able to accept his words when you really don’t know what else his issue could be. “I wasn’t refusing because I think I’m superior in anyway. Even back then, I knew you’re so smart; I had been hearing your name and praise for months before we even met and you had just started your PI career.”

Your posture unravels; expression softens to something surprised yet puzzled. “Then what was your issue?”

“You’re so fragile,” he points out, sounding almost pained to say the words, like he hates them. “I know you can hold your own against humans, you have the awards to prove that, but supernatural beings? You’re so fragile against the majority of the assholes we have to hunt down and bring to justice that I was scared I’d have to watch you die on a job one day. I’m still scared of that, terrified really. If I don’t keep a close eye on you, then they could get to you so quickly that you won’t know until you’re heading to the afterlife.”

“Oh…” You’re not sure what to say in response. Part of you wants to argue and say that he doesn’t have to worry about that. It’s not his job to worry about you; you’re not even real partners despite how often you work together and call one another your partner during work hours. But the other part of you knows he’s right. You’re so delicate compared to supernatural beings and are constantly at risk just by dedicating your life to trying to protect innocents by bringing foul beings to justice where you can. It doesn’t help how sore Junhui sounds; how it truly sounds like the thought of watching you die hurts him deeply, especially if he should’ve been there to protect you.

“Yes, so, I don’t have anything against you at all. I…think you’re a wonderful person; so intelligent and caring that it’s easy to see why you’re one of the highest sought-after PIs in the city. All the humans ask for you; it’s why I get assigned so many human-related cases, because I work with you.”

“Oh…I didn’t realise,” you admit, feeling kind of stupid for not realising that the majority of the cases Junhui picks up to work are human related. You’re so used to working primarily for humans that you forget that humans are the minority, so Junhui should actually have a lot more cases relating to supernatural beings like himself.

“Mm.”

The pair of you are quiet for a few moments as everything shared between you settles, as you both realise that maybe, you’ve both been seeing your relationship in the wrong light from the start, all because of a lack of communication and jumping to conclusions that don’t even exist between you. It makes you wonder that if you’re wrong about Junhui disliking you from the start, maybe you’re wrong about him not wanting to be friends, wrong about the assumption that he’ll never see you as a potential romantic partner one day.

It’s a cruel kind of irony that the day that hope first flutters in your heart for the man potentially gaining feelings for you in the future, is also the day he’s about to rip that very heart from your chest through no choice of his own.

A series of bitten back, pained grunts breaks the contemplative quiet. Your attention turns entirely to the present, to Junhui trying his best to fight his very nature in an attempt to protect you for a little longer.

Suddenly, you find yourself unable to keep your feelings to yourself, sensing that any minute now, you’ll be trapped with an unwilling wolf, so this may be your only chance to be honest for the first time with your affection. “Junhui, I–” you start, only for a pained yell and the crack of bones to cut you off.

Instinctively, you back up a little, your human nature wanting to escape the horrifying sound of a body being forced to break and regrow into another form. It’s truly the worst sound you’ve ever heard, and you’ve heard a lot. But perhaps, it’s more painful and gut wrenching for you to hear because you know that it’s Junhui being forced through the ordeal; the man you were on the brink of confessing the contents of your heart to.

You’ve lost your chance now, and it only takes moments, not even a full minute, for you to lose the man you’ve grown so accustomed to over the past five years.

There’s an eerie couple seconds of silence once the transformation is over; you can’t even hear Junhui’s wolf form breathing, can’t hear him moving despite the fact you know he must be. You know from research and witness accounts— and even some personal accounts from the mouths of werewolves—, that they are always so restless as soon as the full moon shift has fully taken hold and they’re in wolfskin. You know that the harder the fight it, the harder it is for them to settle upon losing the battle. Junhui should be more than just a little restless right now, unable to stay still, especially when faced with the one person who has been pissing him off for the past five years.

Although you know that he could easily move without you knowing— and had assumed he’s been doing just that—, you hear the pad of paws ahead of you, right by the shutter where Junhui last spoke to you from. Your ears prickle hotly and then zero in on the sound, tracking the almost too heavy steps, the gentle clink of claws against tile, as he moves. You want to turn to your left to try and make sure that you remain face on to him; so that, at the very least, he doesn’t attack from behind because that is somehow much scarier. Yet you know you can’t, that even trying to meet a werewolf in wolfskin face on when they’re raring for a fight is a sign of challenge; it’s even worse if they’re on the hunt, and you know that Junhui is.

Slowly, the steps circle you, keeping a steady distance as the predator stalks his prey. As your heart races in your chest, fear pumping blood almost violently through your veins, you know that Junhui can hear it; and it’s only when you think about that, that you realise exactly what he’s doing. He’s scaring you on purpose. He’s letting you hear him so that you know he’s there; so that you know that at any second, he only needs to pounce, and he’ll be on top of you, teeth buried in your flesh and bathing in your blood sprayed extra enthusiastically by your racing heart.

You know that sometimes, wolves wear the blood of their prey during hunts as a trophy, as something to show off; to show other wolves how big and scary they are considered to their prey. It’s not at all a common practise for werewolves to do where humans are concerned, purely because it’s not morally acceptable— nor legal— for werewolves to hunt and kill humans anymore; but you know they still do it when they hunt animals out in the woodlands.

Right now, Junhui doesn’t see you as a human he’s supposed to protect, just a nuisance of a creature he wants to be rid of. Wearing your blood would be a coat of honour, at least until his sane, humane mind returns, then you know it’ll be something he’ll never wash off, not really.

Although you genuinely fear being attacked from behind more than any other direction, it’s when Junhui is behind you that you suddenly recall that he had earlier tried to tell you to pick up a pole to protect yourself with. You know you’ve moved a little now compared to when he said it was on your right and he’d guide you, but you also know that it truly might be your only chance to hold Junhui off long enough for him to remember who he is. Even with a pole for a weapon, you’re still likely to get hurt by the wolf, but you would rather have a few injuries than your throat torn out; there’s no coming back from that, after all.

You try to be subtle when you shift, getting ready to lunge to your right and hope you reach in the right direction, you barely even adjust your weight, but Junhui’s steps fall still and he lets out a low, warning growl. Now that he’s been broken from his pacing, you know you can’t wait, he’ll pounce any second and you’ll have lost your chance.

Without hesitation, you lean over, reaching your right arm out blindly, and hoping with your entire being that your fingers meet smooth metal to protect yourself with, not the jagged edges of more danger than you’re already in. But they don’t get the chance.

You’ve never really faced a werewolf before, you’ve only heard stories, watched videos both real and staged of werewolves in wolfskin on the attack. You know they are capable of moving so fast, of moving so quietly that a human has no hope of knowing until they have teeth and claws tearing into delicate flesh. Yet still, it all happens so much quieter, so much quicker than you could’ve ever prepared for, could’ve ever imagined in all your fear fuelled thoughts.

It’s only a silent instant, barely a blink, barely a breath, and then sharp teeth are around your forearm.

You freeze the second you feel the wolf on your right, his mouth open around your arm, hot breath against your skin, and the points of dangerous teeth resting against your goose bumped flesh.

For a second or two, you don’t dare to breathe, don’t dare to move. Wide eyes remain glued ahead unseeing, left fingers braced on the tiles to steady you, knees aching against the tiles, and forearm hovering in midair.

And the wolf doesn’t move. Doesn’t close his jaw, doesn’t bite, doesn’t do a fucking thing. As if he’s waiting.

It feels like you’re paused for far too long, fear so thick in your body that you can barely breathe, can barely hear anything over the thundering of your heart in your chest. Yet somehow, you hear it. A soft little noise, and you react without thought, looking towards it; right at the wolf before you can realise that even if you can’t see him, he can see you and know if your gaze meets his in unintended challenge.

Despite what it means, despite how Junhui should react and bite your arm clean off with one effortless snap of his jaws the second your face turns to him, he doesn’t. He lets out another little noise, almost akin to a gentle whine, before his jaw opens and releases you. You jolt in surprise when you feel him nudge you with his muzzle, prompting you to sit back down and back up slightly.

Utterly bewilderingly, you hear him shuffle around to where you had been reaching out, and he must move the items there as you hear the clatter and rolling, the crunch and rustling of metal, litter, and other objects. Honestly, you have no fucking idea what’s going on right now, and there’s a part of you that wants to ask— even knowing a wolf can’t talk to answer— but the fear still runs thick in your veins, and you can’t make yourself do anything but sit there in terrified wait.

When Junhui returns to your side, he makes noise the entire short journey; paws patting, claws clicking, and little almost chuffing type sounds from his throat. Something about it feels like he’s telling you he’s nearing, warning you of his impending closeness to not scare you.

You still can’t see anything, but you can feel it when he stands before you, you can feel the heat rolling off his furred body; you can feel his presence, the power emanating from him. Despite that, despite the clear masses of points he has over you, the winning hand he truly holds, he lowers himself by your feet and curls around you, whining softly in deference to you. You feel his nose nudge against your hand where it lays on your thigh; without thought, you lift it, and your breath catches when his head rests on your leg. He whines again, shuffling closer, wrapping you in his protection, and you suddenly realise the truth of what this is; Junhui is protecting you, even when he should be ripping your throat out for all the grief you’ve given him over the years.

Somehow, he’s fought his very nature to do the very thing he’s always been scared he’ll never be able to do; he’s keeping you safe.

“Oh,” you murmur, exhaling, and just like that, the fear starts to seep out, your heart starts to calm.

Carefully, you lower your still raised hand to his head and lightly run your fingers through his thick, slightly coarse fur. The noise he lets out sounds pleased, so you relax into it, grow more confident, and stroke your hand over his head and back as far as you can reach; drag your fingers through his fur and scratch at his skin in patches. He seems to really like it when you rub the pads of your fingers deeply through the fur at the back of his neck, letting out heavy, happy huffs every time, so you make sure to give extra focus there.

Honestly, even if you had the ability to keep an eye on the time right now, you would still lose track. There’s something incredibly hypnotic and soothing about petting a giant wolf, especially one who seems to want to meld with your body, routinely shuffling and curling closer to you even when he physically can’t get any closer.

Even though you don’t know how long it’s been, you’re certain it’s been some time; more than long enough for your pulse and breathing to return to a calm, steady state, and for Junhui to doze off under your tender touch. You’re so content that you jump and your heart skips a few beats when Junhui lifts suddenly, standing up, and growls low and warningly in the direction of the shutter. It takes a second for your logic to beat the fear down and let you understand that the werewolf’s finely tuned senses have picked up something your own weak-in-comparison ones can’t.

Though after a few more moments, you can hear footsteps on the other side of the shutter seconds before a voice calls out. “Junhui?!” Almost instantly, the wolf growls louder in warning, and the man curses worriedly before he calls your name. “Are you okay?! We’re going to get you out!”

“I’m fine!” you reply. “Seriously, he hasn’t hurt me!”

“Really?” his tone turns surprised now, concern abruptly gone in his disbelief.

“Yeah! He’s been calm until he heard you.” Junhui lets out another warning sound, this time to you as you get up. “Shut up,” you retort quietly, and have to bite back a snort of laughter when he immediately whines and moves over to repeatedly circle you close enough that his flank doesn’t stop touching your legs. “Stop it, you’ll trip me up,” you warn. He whines again but does as told and backs off a little, though you feel him move to stand at your side so close that although you can’t feel him, you’re pretty sure his fur is brushing your clothing over your right thigh.

“Are you near the shutter?” the man on the other side calls a minute later, after you’ve heard him conversing with someone else, maybe multiple others. It’s only now that you fully recognise his voice, he must be closer to the shutter. It’s Detective Lee Seokmin, one of Junhui’s colleagues. You know the pair are friends, pretty good friends too, and you’d even go as far as to say that Seokmin could be considered a friend of yours even; he’s invited you to every party and gathering he’s hosted over the past few years, so you think that says a lot. Then again, Seokmin is a siren, and they’re pretty friendly folk with endless friends and contacts. Even without using their siren song to influence another’s feelings and actions, sirens just seem to gain the favour of pretty much anyone no matter where they go.

“No, we’re further back,” you answer, absently petting at Junhui’s back to stop him making any more low, growling warnings towards his friend. It bewilders you a little that Junhui is growling at Seokmin like this, but you don’t want to try and decode that right now and instead plan to simply ask Junhui about it tomorrow when he’s human again and able to communicate in words, not whines and growls.

“Alright, stay there, we’re going to cut the locks now. It’s going to be loud for Jun, so cover his ears for him if he’ll let you,” Seokmin warns.

“Okay!” Without hesitation, you move to kneel down beside Jun and hold his head so that you can cover his ears carefully. He whines and gently tries to shake you off. All you do is tut your tongue against the roof of your mouth disapprovingly, and he acquiesces, whimpering softly in scold as he shrinks a little in place before falling still.

It takes a couple of minutes of the grinding of metal as it’s cut, sparks jumping into view in the little dent Junhui made in the shutter earlier before the tool is turned off. As soon as the shutter starts rattling up, Junhui pulls his head from your hold so that he can face the entrance of the slowly lightening store, and take up growling all over again, this time louder and clearer in his warnings as the “threat” is revealed.

“Stop it,” you scold softly, tapping his side once. Junhui listens, for the most part at least. The growling grows quiet enough that you have to almost strain your ears to hear it, and he moves to stand directly in front of where you still kneel.

“Hi,” Seokmin greets, popping his head under the shutter as it’s slowly rolled up. You can just about see the lower halves of a few officers dressed in protective gear either side of the shutter, their gloved hands lifting it a little at a time. Even Seokmin looks like he’s wearing protective gear from what you can see of his body where it’s oddly contorted so that he can look under the shutter.

“Full moon crew?” you ask, realising that you recognise the specialised gear from training videos you’ve watched of other supernatural species restraining werewolves on the full moon.

“Yeah,” Seokmin confirms, moving to crouch carefully, eyes darting between Junhui’s form and your head barely in view above the wolf’s back. “We only realised what the day is when we realised it’s been a while since he checked in, longer than normal, and obviously, he didn’t answer the radio in his car. Honestly, we thought that we were going to find a very different scenario once we found you two.”

“You’re not the only one,” you reply with a soft laugh.

“You’re really okay? He didn’t get you before getting his mind back, did he?”

“No, didn’t even try to.”

Seokmin makes a surprised sound that quickly turns considering. “Strange. Oh well, better not to question it, just be glad we don’t have to call the cleaners in.”

“Trust me, I’m very glad of that.”

Seokmin grins, chuckling lightly, before he focuses his attention solely on Jun. “If we finish opening the shutter, you’re not going to jump any of us, are you?” Junhui growls, though cuts off when you make that disapproving tut again, entirely without thought and just wanting him to behave. “Wow, only a couple hours with him and you’ve trained him already! Are you sure you don’t have some kind of magic in you?” the siren jokes while making a motion behind him before he raises up to stand as the shutter is lifted the rest of the way, revealing even more of the FMRT— Full Moon Response Team— behind him, holding various tools and non-deadly weapons designed to subdue a werewolf. Though you know that there will be at least one deadly weapon amongst the bunch, but they’re not authorised to even pull those out unless the situation is dire.

“Very positive,” you muse, raising to your feet. Junhui adjusts, standing even taller now; you hadn’t even realised he wasn’t at his full height but lowered a little to not be so tall against your kneeled form.

“Well, come on then, let’s get you both home.”

When Seokmin had said “home”, you’re sure you all assumed that to mean your separate homes, as in you’d get in your car and drive yourself home, and Junhui would get in the transportation van and be driven to his own home. Yet, when you had walked to your car, Junhui stuck to your side and continued to glare and growl at anyone who dared to get within a few metres of the two of you. Even when you tried to walk the wolf to the van and encourage him into it, he refused. So, you relented, opened the back door of your car to let him claim the backseats, then got in the front.

Ideally, you would’ve driven Junhui home yourself, but despite having known the man for five years, you don’t know his address, only the neighbourhood; and when you drove around it, Junhui didn’t give any indication of where you should go to get him home. You knew you couldn’t leave him out wandering in public either, no supernatural being is allowed to be in anything but their human form in public places— unless specially designed for it—, so you only had one option.

Now, you’re sitting on your sofa trying not to give in to Junhui’s literal puppy-dog eyes and cute, pleading whining as he gently paws at your thigh with one paw, the other placed on the sofa you’re refusing to let him get on.

“No, Junhui, you’re bigger than the entire seat!” you exclaim, nudging him back down when he not-so-subtly tries to edge up onto the cushion by your side. He whines even more pitifully, lowers his head, and looks up at you from the top of his eyes, making them even bigger, and paws your thigh some more. The little shit knows just how to push your buttons too, it seems; at least in the way of being cute and getting his way. “Asshole,” you huff, and get up to motion to the sofa. “Go on then!”

Junhui yips happily and bounces once before he clambers up onto the sofa. While he’s excitedly getting settled, you move to sit in the armchair and turn the TV on to pass time until the sun rises and Junhui can shift back into humanskin. A soft bark makes you look at him, and somehow the wolf sitting upright on your sofa looks utterly, devastatingly betrayed.

“What?” you question, pointing to the TV. “Is it too loud?” Junhui huffs and then paws at the space on the sofa you previously occupied. “What? Are you seriously expecting me to stay there when you take up the whole length?” He whines and starts to tilt his head down to give you another one of those almost heart-wrenchingly adorable expressions. “Fine!” you give in before he can even start, knowing you won’t survive another round of boss level puppy-dog eyes. Junhui barks excitedly as you get up. “Shush! It’s 2am, my neighbours are sleeping.”

Suddenly a little sheepish, Junhui shrinks slightly, somehow looking apologetic as you plop back down in your previous seat on the sofa. He lets out a quiet version of his happy bark that makes you laugh, and then he’s dropping down onto his belly, propping his chin on your thighs, and peering up at you; looking nothing but adorably happy and content as your left hand naturally starts to pet him while the right flicks though options on the TV remote to find something to watch.

Although you settle on something you assume Junhui would be interested in— based on TV shows you’ve heard him comment on positively over the years—, he doesn’t really look at the screen. His eyes mostly remain focused on you as his tail sways just out of your view where it hangs off the edge of the sofa. You’re entirely absorbed in the show; gasping, laughing, and commenting in all the right places that he is far too content watching you to dare look away even for a moment.

The next time you turn back into the world instead of the historical drama that has well and truly stolen your attention, it’s been hours. Long enough, in fact, that you can see the sun peeking around the edge of the curtains pulled over the living room windows.

Yet still, there’s a wolf using your lap as his own personal pillow; a fully awake wolf who should be a human already.

You peer down at him questioningly after pausing your show, and he lets out a soft little whimper, shuffling a little closer and nuzzling into your stomach as if he’s trying to hide from your scrutinising gaze. “Why haven’t you shifted back?” you ask. He whines, and you sigh. “I don’t understand you like this; shift back and talk, Junhui.”

Though instead of doing that, he gets up and scuttles to the front door as if he’s planning to escape. But two things entirely fuck up his plan. The first being obvious; he doesn’t have opposable thumbs in this form, so he can’t work any of the locks you have on the door. And the second also being equally as obvious and related to the first; he’s literally a giant wolf and would get arrested if he went out in public like this.

There’s a moment where you can see Junhui mentally war with himself as he slumps down, the top of his head pressing against the door as he debates what to do, then he slumps further in resignation.

Although the transformation into wolfskin had been loud, had sounded beyond painful, the shift back into humanskin is silent, effortless. You can’t tell if it was because it was a forced shift that it was so horrendous, or because Junhui had fought against it so much.

Honestly, for a second, you had forgotten that Junhui’s clothes are obviously not on the man now; they’re in tatters on dirty tile flooring still, only the items from his pockets didn’t get destroyed and are in a clear evidence bag on the side table beside the front door for Junhui to take home with him when he goes. Admittedly, for a couple of seconds you can’t do anything but dumbly stare at the long expanse of naked back, of perky ass, broad shoulders, and tiny waist. The man truly is beautiful, and you can’t be blamed for being struck dumb by the sight.

“Can I please have a blanket?” his quiet, shy voice brings you back to life, and you scramble off the sofa so quickly that you almost fall. Luckily, he’s not looking, so he doesn’t know the fool you just made of yourself, and you can cool the embarrassed flush on your cheeks before you near him with a large, soft, and freshly washed, blanket in your hold. You drape it around his shoulders while being very considerate to not even accidentally get a view of the front of his nude form. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get you something to wear, I should have at least some shorts,” you say, already rushing off to your bedroom to give him some space and privacy to get up. Once in your room, you take a moment to gather your mental strength and push aside the image of Junhui’s ass imprinted on your mind before you rummage through your clothes to find something to cover the man’s nudity.

As you thought, you do have a pair of men’s shorts that should fit him, bought for yourself a while back due to how lightweight and comfy they felt on the hanger in store, and regularly worn in warmer weather. You’re not convinced any of your t-shirts will fit his broad shoulders really. You honestly don’t even know how he finds anything in stores to fit his physique without looking ridiculous— because he always looks impeccably dressed. Still, you grab one you think might be okay and quickly return to him.

Junhui is standing in the kitchen, one arm stuck out of the blanket cloak he’s wearing as he swallows down a glass of water quicker than you thought possible. “Sorry,” he pants when he lowers the glass, drops trailing down his chin and long throat from his rushed drinking and inability to wipe the errant drops away with only one arm available— unless he wants to let go of the blanket and be left standing butt naked in your kitchen for the sake of drying his chin.

“What for?” you ask bewilderedly while putting the clothes on the counter ready for him to take when he’s ready.

“Not asking first.” He lifts his empty glass in explanation.

“Oh, I don’t care.” You wave a dismissive hand. “You can always help yourself to water here, and honestly, most other things in the kitchen. I’m always happy to feed guests.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a guest; you didn’t want me here, I invited myself,” he points out, looking away from you in embarrassment. He finally puts down the glass and uses his now free hand to wipe the water from his skin. “So, sorry about that too.”

“Don’t be.” He lifts his head to look at you with a disbelieving, slightly questioning expression. “You have no choice but to answer my questions now,” you reason, smiling at him in a too sweet way that makes him sigh and look away from you again. It takes a second of him staring at the glass on the counter in front of him as he turns it slowly, before he nods in reluctant agreement. “Why didn’t you attack me? You didn’t seem to lose yourself at all, but before the shift you acted like you would. Why?”

“Because I thought I would.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t, not really.”

“So you did a bit?”

He lets out a breath, a little shaky at the edges, and nods. “Yes. I…I wasn’t entirely there at first, but I just…knew you, even in that state. I knew I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you of all people.”

“What? Why me?” He doesn’t answer. “Jun, please?”

Junhui adjusts the blanket, tucking his arm back under it and pulling the edges closer, almost as if he’s shielding himself. You can only watch with a frown, heart aching a little for how he clearly feels like he needs protecting right now. Even in humanskin, the man could tear you apart before you realise what’s happening; there’s no way you could physically hurt him.

And then you realise, only a second before he speaks, that it’s not his body that he’s trying to protect, but his heart.

“Because it’s you, it’s always been you. Since the day we met, I looked at you and I knew you’ll be the one I need more than anything, more than food, more than water. You’re my heart; without you, I can’t live.”

“Jun…”

“I–I know, you don’t need to say it,” he insists, stepping away a little jerkily as you move closer, as if his body isn’t quite reacting how it should, as if his mind isn’t in one piece enough to direct his limbs to move smoothly. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. “Humans don’t have this; you don’t have connections in this way. I know you have the idea of other halves, soulmates, but it’s different. Humans give away pieces of their heart over time, yet never the whole thing; but werewolves, we give it over that first instant. I know you don’t want it, and I’m not going to even try to get you to accept it, but it’s yours all the same. Even when you find someone else to share your heart with; mine is entirely yours.”

It’s far more than you ever thought you’d hear from the man, far more than you’d ever hoped he say, that he’d feel. Your hope only stretched as far as a crush, maybe the generic form of love, but never this. Never in your life could you have imagined a werewolf to have you for a heartmate; for you to be the one person they are made to love. You know that many werewolves— the majority even— never meet their heartmate, and quite a few spend their whole lives looking.

Junhui’s right in that in some sense, it’s akin to the very human concept of soulmates, except soulmates aren’t real; there isn’t another human out there made to complete you, the other half of a whole. Whereas heartmates are very real— if rare—, and they aren’t the other half of anything. No werewolf is incomplete without a heartmate, and they’re certainly not made for one another, but they are connected from the first moment they meet until their last moment on this earth.

When one of the pair of a heartmate dies, the other does too; as once the bond is formed, a werewolf can’t live without their heartmate. Which means, that if something happens to you, should you die, Junhui would shortly follow. However, as you’re human, you don’t feel the bond and could live on if something happens to Junhui.

It makes sense why Junhui is so intent on protecting you now, now that you know that he literally can’t live without you. Though that’s cheapening the bond entirely to say. Junhui doesn’t want you alive for his own sake, so that he gets to keep living too; Junhui wants you alive because he’s in love with you.

If you weren’t so caught up in the moment, in your racing heart and Junhui’s form curled in on himself where he’s backed up in the corner while you approach, you’d think the little whimper he lets out when you cup his face is so close to the noises he make in wolfskin that it’d make you giggle. As is it though, you barely notice, and instead focus on gently turning his face so that he has to look at you. He starts to close his eyes, but something on your face must surprise him, as he flutters his eyes open, eyebrows lifting slightly, and lips parting.

“Before the shift took you, I thought you were going to rip my heart out.” He whines, shrinking further at the thought; at the reminder that you were scared for your safety because of him. “And I wanted to take what I thought would be my last and only chance to tell you where it is.” Abruptly, his unhappy sounds cut off, and his head tilts slightly, adorably confused. You smile gently and lift one hand from his face to place it on his chest and tap over where you can feel his heart racing and thudding against his ribs to reach out to you. “Right here, Junhui, my heart is right here.”

“I…what?” he whispers, adjusting his position so that he’s not curled to the side, but facing you; straightening a little but never removing his face from your adoring touch, or chest from your reach. One of his hands wraps around your wrist to keep your palm against his torso, even with the blanket still wrapped entirely around him and creating a soft barrier between your skin. “With me?” You nod. “Your heart is with me?”

“Yes,” you confirm, laughing slightly. “When you got shot, I almost lost my mind; I was so scared I’d lose you.”

“But you…you’ve always…”

“Been an asshole?” He nods firmly, then turns a little sheepish when he realises what he’s just agreed to, and a tiny, adorably apologetic smile tilts his lips up. You giggle. “I have. It was in retaliation at first; I really did think you hated me from the start, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, Jun, but I don’t take that kind of shit laying down.”

“I’ve definitely noticed,” he confirms with a soft, huffed laugh. “You always stand up to anyone who even tries to treat you like shit; you’ve earned a lot of respect because of it.”

“And some enemies too.”

“Yeah, and those. But I’ll never let them hurt you; I’ll always protect you, you know that, right?” he checks, looking and sounding so utterly earnest.

“I know that now,” you assure, and he relaxes a little. When you brush your thumb over his cheek, he lets out a content little sigh and tilts into your touch. “I want to be with you, Wen Junhui,” you inform quietly, and hear his breath catch, watch his eyes widen slightly. “But I don’t know if we should.”

“What?” His expression tugs down as he frowns at you while he straightens up. “If you’re worried it will ruin our working relationship, you’re wrong. I’ve been in love with you from the start, I know how to act during work.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s that you’re a werewolf, and I’m a human.”

“And? I didn’t think you care about that kind of thing. You said I have your heart, doesn’t that mean you love me?”

“It does. And I don’t care about cross species relationships at all. What I mean is that I won’t live to a hundred years, but you will live a lot longer.”

“No, I’ll–”

“Die when I do,” you finish, and he nods. “I’ll spend the entire time scared of that.”

“Whether we’re together or not, I’ll die when you do. At least this way, I can love you the way you deserve, not from a distance,” he reasons. In an act that makes you choke on air, he lets go of the blanket protecting his modesty so that he can cup your face with both of his large hands, slender fingers curling to hold you securely, yet still so gentle; not like you’ll break, but like you deserve to be held tenderly. “Please, let me love you the way you deserve, my heartmate.”

“I…Fuck,” you let all tension out at once and tilt up towards him. Junhui doesn’t hesitate to lean in to meet your lips with eager affection, both melting into one another in the way you never thought would happen, but now that it has, you know nothing has ever felt so right.

A few moments later, when the kiss breaks, Junhui rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you, for letting me love you.”

“Thank you for loving me. I know it’s not your choice, but I’m grateful all the same.”

“Not as grateful as me; you let yourself fall for me. That’s…” he lets out a breath that sounds overwhelmed in the best of ways before his lips curl up as he lifts enough that you can look at one another comfortably. “I love you, and I’m so happy that I can spend the rest of our lives showing you that.”

“I…Do…do you think that maybe…you can turn me?” you suggest, and his eyes widen in genuine shock. “So that you can be my heartmate too and we can live a long life together, and you don’t have to watch me grow old while you age at a fraction of the speed?”

“You’d really do that? Become a werewolf for me?”

“I would,” you confirm, confident and without hesitation. “I want to love you for a long time, Junhui.”

“Fuck.” He pulls you in for another kiss, this one longer, deeper, more intense as he spills out all his overwhelmed joy and passion against your lips. He only stops a little after he’s lifted you up onto the counter to stand between your thighs and make it easier to hold you close to his chest as his tongue does things that makes you very excited to spend the rest of your life experiencing again, and again.

“Well then,” you exhale, chest heaving when he pulls back, allowing your human lungs to try to catch some air. He’s breathing heavily too, but you know he has naturally better stamina than you and can hold his breath for longer— as revealed a few months into working together when you discovered that his car’s breaks had been cut when, no matter how hard he stomped on the pedal, he couldn’t stop the vehicle careening into the dock in the middle of the night, and you had surfaced almost two minutes before him, barely conscious with your lungs burning.

“We can have pups,” he blurts, making you choke on absolutely nothing. “Shit, sorry, sorry, I just…If–if we had a baby when you’re human, they would be human too because you can’t shift to birth them as a wolf, so they won’t be born a wolf, meaning they’ll never shift and—”

“Sweet boy,” you coo, cupping his face, and then press a quick peck on the tip of his nose that makes him briefly go a little cross eyed. “It’s very cute that you’re thinking about putting a baby in me already–” He whines shyly and tucks his head down to hide his blushing face in your palms, making you giggle. “But let’s take it one step at a time, okay? I’m not against it exactly, but not any time soon. First, let’s focus on us, and our careers. When we’re both ready to find less dangerous work, we can circle back to pup talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, nodding as he peers at you from over the edge of your hands, eyes adorably big and beautiful. “You need to be turned first too, and that’ll make work safer–” He suddenly gasps and straightens up, looking excited. “You can become a cop once you’re a werewolf!”

“Oh, yeah, I could. I didn’t even consider that.”

“No? I thought you would’ve. You’ve always said you would’ve if you legally could.”

“Mm, I know, and I would’ve. But I kind of really like being my own boss and not having to go the routes you guys do. Also, I’d have to start from the bottom and work my way up, and that would mean years before there’s even a chance of us working together again. They’d probably give you a partner in that time and then not reassign you once I’m qualified; probably wouldn’t let spouses work together. Jihoon isn’t allowed to work with his wife; they both have told me that.”

“That’s mostly because they distract each other and have been caught making out all over the precinct,” Junhui clarifies, making you snicker, easily able to imagine Jihoon and his wife being unable to keep their hands off each other even during working hours; they’re truly obsessed with one another in a mostly cute— and a little gross— way. “But also, can we circle around to you calling us spouses and then relating to a married couple, and that…are you planning to marry me?”

“Definitely,” you confirm with a nod, and he squeaks, lifting his hands to his own cheeks to try and hide his goofy grin. “After a year of being a couple, we can start thinking about marriage properly; once we’ve discovered how we work as a couple.”

“Mm, yep, yep, we can do that,” he agrees, head bobbling in a way that makes you giggle, though you cut off when you reach out to wrap your arms around his waist and are reminded that he is very much completely fucking naked.

“Oh.” You stare at his chest, drag your gaze down his chiselled torso, and then pout when your view is blocked by the edge of the counter by his hips. Damn your apartment for having such high counters. “You’re very naked,” you comment.

“Oh!” He lets out an alarmed noise then reaches out one handed to grab the shorts from the pile, the other hand lifting to cover your eyes.

“I’m going to see it sooner or later,” you reason, though don’t really argue, and even close your eyes and turn away from him.

“I know, I know, I just want it to be intended, and at least after our first date,” he says as he works on quickly pulling on the shorts, then the t-shirt, before returning to you. “And with that in mind, let me take you out to dinner tonight,” he requests, turning you to face him again, so you open your eyes to look at him; the t-shirt is definitely pulling tight over his shoulders, but he doesn’t look uncomfortable and you’re certainly not complaining— even if it’s going to ruin the shape of the t-shirt.

“Or, you can cook for me. Everyone praises your cooking, and I think it’s time you finally let me try it,” you suggest.

Junhui smiles and nods. “I’d love to cook for you.”

“Great, that means we can spend all day here!” you enthuse and clap a few times happily. “I want to watch more of that show and cuddle the fuck out of you on the sofa until we fall asleep.”

“Okay, my heartmate, whatever you want,” he agrees with a chuckle before pressing one more kiss to your lips, and then playfully sweeps you off the counter to carry to the sofa and drop down together. The pair of you shuffle around until you’re comfortably tucked up against one another ready to spend the rest of the day together doing nothing but watching TV and relaxing.

You know that every day isn’t going to be like this, especially as tomorrow, you’ll both have to go back to work, and you truly never know what dangers your jobs will bring. And you know that even though you’re Junhui’s heartmate, and that you love him as much as a human can love another, it won’t all be smooth sailing. There will be fights; there will be days where you can’t stand being near each other and will wonder if you will be able to move past that feeling.

But you know in your heart that the good will outweigh the bad, and that when you you’re both old and looking back on your long life together, you’ll see a life full of love, and a life well spent.

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