#mnemosynesjournal

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity; but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days, at roughly the same time, just to watch Mr. Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds, strolling topless up and down the sand, and helping where he can.

It’s sweet; the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols.

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up, and up, and–

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped together, and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right, as you had assumed.

“A crab.”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and, admittedly, rather grand sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby.

“Every castle needs a King; don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke.

“Go find shells,” you deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab, to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasy of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars, yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest, and go back to reading your book.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers, and you lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr. Hunky Lifeguard himself.

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips, and smiling at you in that bright, friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else.

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sun-kissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” he questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys beside the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only now realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend.

“Not exactly,” you huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend,” you declare upon spotting said person, and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting down with another lifeguard— this one wearing the same red shorts, though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on—, and rummaging through the sand with your friend.

“Oh!” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention.

You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand.

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu.” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you.

Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. But that would get you arrested, and you really don’t want that. So, you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return.

“Mm, pretty,” he hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees with your feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be at face height with his dick and within reaching distance.

“You must really like the beach.”

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face; that’d be nice too.

“I said you must really like the beach; I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.”

“You noticed me?” you mutter in shock.

“Uhm.” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller, embarrassed. Cute. “I–It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma–make sure people are safe.”

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing; amused and endeared by him. As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing; talking to him and realising he’s got this cute, shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y–yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand, making you snicker. Mingyu flails to right himself, and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward, embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach; you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today,” your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up.

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe,” you retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach,” the unexpected male voice makes you jump and look over. To your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not ogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face.

You’re, once again, very glad for tinted sunglasses.

“You’re wet,” your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses— you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look.

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach, leaving you and Mingyu alone.

You appreciate that; the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first,” you mutter to yourself while looking at the giant umbrella in disdain.

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” you reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand; because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place, so you find no reason to correct yourself, and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat.

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh.

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed, so he leaves you with a smile, and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away.

It makes you feel all warm inside; how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you. You just hope that it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move; you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job.

So, you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with,” your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson, and one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” you point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker, who rolls his eyes.

You know the co-worker personally, but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua, and he, according to your bestie, has purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something,” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you, but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous,” you declare.

“No.” He chuckles, and motions to your best friend, who points at herself with wide eyes on view thanks to her sunglasses currently being propped on Joshua’s head so that they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance, so I should probably hold onto you.”

“Terrible balance,” your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little.

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too, but most of your attention has been on Mr. Hunky Lifeguard, now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it alright if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want,” your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words.

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain, but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional, so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically.

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright.” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little, turn back to him, and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected; he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water, but with his careful guidance— even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be—, you get your feet under you.

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright, while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. And then, you make a giant fucking mistake.

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally, and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach, looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts, because you notice that bouncing too.

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body.

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” this voice is right over you; the owner of the arms, and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other man any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol,” Mingyu assures. There’s a heavy sigh, and then those strong hands leave your body, and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. “That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you,” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern with one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes, and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore, but fine otherwise.

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic.

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetic about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it.

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey.” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.”

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right,” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol–”

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing.

“So, I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr. Lifeguard,” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. Mingyu returns it, though you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating, but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you with a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building.

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets upon looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” he mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.”

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk.

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building, allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel,” he declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window.

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting; being able to watch over everyone like this and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above.

“Can they see us?” you wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand.

“I mean, sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day; but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us,” he informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?”

“Mm, a few times.”

“How?”

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you, and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.”

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest against your left arm. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me.”

“Just…you know.” You shrug again, and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little.

“You should get out of this and dry off,” he suggests while running his right hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat.

“I might need some help getting it off,” you reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.”

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access without having to reach around you so much.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false.

Yet, you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable, but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me,” he mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so that you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper.

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts, where his knuckles brush a little, making your breath catch, before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” he checks, noticing how the material of the rash guard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation, and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay, and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you–” he starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rash guard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without standing up, to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” you reply shyly.

He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. “This okay?” he asks in between kisses on your skin; each growing more daring than the last.

“Y–yeah,” you agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen.

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards, and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs.

Mingyu quickly tugs the rash guard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” he breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe, then back again. “So, fucking beautiful, baby.”

“Mingyu,” your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure; you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does, and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” he encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass.

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder, then lean back as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own; he sounds like he’s tasted the nectar of the fucking gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general.

You’ve heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before, but you’ve never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all; holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation, and an intensity that has your legs shaking; a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” you breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily.

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more.

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms and hold them aside out of his way.

Then, those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod, and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers; it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch, and then reluctantly detaches his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. Though, he doesn’t go far, and instead, pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs, and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” the call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you.

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again, but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine.

“D–don’t you want to fuck me?” you ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back, but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs as long as he makes you cum like that.

“Fuck you?” he repeats dumbly. You nod, and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded, and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise, and reach down to try and remove them. “No, no, no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy; I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.”

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skilfully moving those two fingers in you; slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips.

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod, so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you.

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance, so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk, and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect,” he approves, and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim.

But then his cock twitches desperately, and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole. He wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away, but he’s very aware that, frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation, and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know; you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open. But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables, so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

By the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed, and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly.

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” he groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length.

He needs a moment; needs more than one really, with how fucking close he already is to filling you with his cum, but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement, but he gets the hint; you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters; the give of your pussy, and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly, making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly.

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” he encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you, before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed.

It’s hard, and fast, and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know existed before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out, and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you; moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you care, neither of you have the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this.

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened; you probably wouldn’t even notice, and honestly, neither would Mingyu.

When Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest and pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new, somehow deeper, spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work, even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing, orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far, because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth when you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him, that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum.

It feels fucking endless; the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you, even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss; a never-ending pulse of pleasure; pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock started to empty in you.

You can’t respond yet; you’re not quite back on planet Earth, making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this.

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right, before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards.

For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy, and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth, but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time.

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?”

“Like I had the life fucked out of me,” you reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him, and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck, so that you can tug him in and kiss him.

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together, slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here.

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” he murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.”

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape.

“It was,” he agrees with a chuckle, and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?”

“Now?” you baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now; I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now,” he assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.”

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.”

“Reasonable, huh?” he teases, and nips at your cheek playfully, making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” you rush to assure, cupping his cheeks, and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin.

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?”

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.”

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute, happy, little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good; I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends, we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too, and I guess your friend, but they can entertain each other at another table.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.”

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Local law enforcement has been trying to get their mitts on him since before he even started the gang, but Seungcheol is smart, he's always made sure to keep his hands squeaky clean.

Which is why, when you heard the news come through on your police scanner that he's been spotted with some real nasty fuckers and this is the chance to get him cuffed, you wanted to get there asap to witness and join the scene.

Who wouldn't want to have the pleasure of slapping some cuffs on Choi Seungcheol and shoving him around a little, after all?

“What did you get him for?” you ask as you approach the scene with nothing but confidence, thumbs hooked into your belt casually.

Seungcheol glances over at you, and his jaw tightens with how hard he clenches his teeth as he takes you in from head to toe, dressed in uniform so crisp it's like you've just pulled it on. You have. He doesn't look impressed.

“Probable cause,” the young, over-eager cop who is getting ready to handcuff Seungcheol informs, sounding almost proud, while his partner keeps his gun pointed firmly at Seungcheol's head.

Seungcheol isn't stupid, reckless at times, yeah, but not stupid. He's been known to get pretty injured, and take some big risks with his own body in order to get what he wants, but even he wouldn't risk making a move in front of a trigger-happy rookie-cop.

“Oh, you fucking idiots,” you laugh, walking over to snatch the cuffs into your own hold.

“What the fuck?” the younger cop baulks, dumbstruck. “Who the fuck are you to just–”

“You really think you're going to get brownie points with the captain by bringing him Choi Seungcheol with no solid fucking cause? You think you can just put the guy in cuffs and the rest will follow? You're fucking stupid, kid.”

“But we caught him.”

“Yeah, and you know what his legal team is like? You're fucking lucky I turned up.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm willing to take him off your hands and deal with it myself. I've had my eye on Choi for fucking years, boys; I've got quite the file on him. What have you got?”

Admittedly, you take a hell of a lot of joy in grabbing Seungcheol's right forearm to force it down and around to his lower back, where you can secure the cuff around his wrist. He grunts at the unexpected force yet doesn't fight you, just clenches his jaw tighter.

“That's a good boy,” you whisper into his ear, while the two cops exchange lost, almost torn expressions as they attempt to silently communicate with one another about what to do.

Clearly, they don't want to just hand the man over to you, but you're right; they don't have shit on Seungcheol, and it would only cause them a lot of hassle to arrest him. He's too smart to talk, even in holding, and would just stare darkly at them, not moving a muscle until he's released. It’s happened before, once, over a year ago, and his legal team tore apart the station so thoroughly that the cops who arrested him had to resign and get minimum wage jobs, despite being the best the precinct had to offer.

Once you've got Seungcheol securely in the cuffs, you grab his bicep and appreciatively squeeze it as you tug on him to signal him to get up. You have to bite back your pleased grin as the powerful man silently obeys your order and gets to his feet. Though he does glare at you over his shoulder. It just makes it all that much sweeter.

“You boys better get back to your patrol before you get demoted,” you warn, shoving Seungcheol towards your car. He stumbles a little and glares at you again, but you ignore it to reach past him and open the back door.

Seungcheol swears and mutters under his breath when you roughly push his head down to urge him into the back of the car. He almost falls flat on his face onto the cheap imitation-leather seats. You shut the door before his colourful language cussing you out spills out any further to reach the cops and they can try to drag this out further. That’s the last thing you need right now.

“What?” you ask the two young men upon facing them again once you’ve closed the door and turned away from the car; they’re still watching you dumbly. “I know; my ass looks great in these.” You smirk smugly to yourself and smack your own ass, making both men jump at the loud, sudden sound.

“Yeah,” the younger agrees mindlessly, eyes now glued to your ass as you open the driver's door.

“Idiot,” his partner hisses, backhanding him. “Don't fucking agree, now she's gonna report you for sexual harassment!”

“She started it!”

While the pair are arguing, you take the chance to climb into your car and drive off with a pleased little cackle at causing the most chaos you can with so little to work with. It’s a point of pride for you.

At the end of the street, Seungcheol kicks the back of your seat. You don't need to look at him to know he's glaring at you; you can feel the burn of his gaze on the side of your face. You love it.

“Now, now, Mr. Choi, please respect my car.” He kicks the seat again, making you snicker. “So ungrateful; I just saved you from being locked in an interrogation room for 24 hours. You'd think you'd be at least a little appreciative.”

“Like fuck am I,” he grunts and shuffles closer to the crisscross of bars separating the two halves of the car. “Didn't have to be so fucking rough, you bitch.” You lift your eyes to the rearview mirror to meet his gaze and grin smugly at him, before returning your gaze to the road in front of you. “Sick fuck; you get off on it, don't you?”

“Damn right,” you confirm shamelessly, with an almost twisted smirk. “Big boss man on his knees for ickle ol' me. Gets me all warm and tingly, Cheolie.”

“How many times have I got to tell you not to fucking call me that?” He's too close to the front seats to kick them again, but he does knee the back of yours where his legs are spread as wide as possible in his pale, ripped jeans to allow him so close.

Fuck, you wish you can see his thighs right now. You quickly look over at him to test your range of sight, but the fucking seats are in the way. Dammit.

You sigh and turn back to the road forlornly. “Well, maybe if you ever punish me like you claim you will, yet never stick to, I might learn my lesson.”

“You'd fucking like it,” he grumbles. You just grin. Yeah, you definitely would. “Pull over and uncuff me.”

“Nope.”

“I'm warning you, little one.”

“Pretty sure I'm the one in charge here,” you chirp, unaffected by his low, warning tone. Though a second later, you're choking on a laugh when his body jerks forward due to you suddenly breaking to join the queue of traffic at a red light. Seungcheol's forehead slams into the grate, making him swear harshly. “Oops,” you offer with false innocence and a big grin.

“You fucking–” he starts harshly, only to cut off when you pull away rapidly at the green light, sending him toppling back in the seats and cutting off with a surprised sound. You don't stop yourself from laughing this time.

“Now, here's what's gonna happen, Cheolie,” you declare when you turn around in your seat to look at where the big gang boss is sitting quietly in the back seat, hands still cuffed behind him between his thick body and the backrest. His thick legs spread with his slouched position.

Man, he's so fucking thick; you know it's true all over his body. You've conveniently walked in on him fucking enough people to know that the man's blessed with a diabolically thick cock too.

Not forgetting the memorable time that he didn't notice your very obvious spy camera in his bedroom for a full two months. For two glorious months you got to watch him wrap a hand around his cock and cum over his chest in live action; automatically recorded for your rewatch pleasure.

You've never been gladder that he has a strict policy of not taking anyone to his home to fuck; you quite enjoyed his solo sessions and still watch them regularly.

In fact, you had been watching one while spread over your own bed when the scanner had caught your attention. You didn't even have the chance to clean up; your thighs are still sticky. But that could also just be from having Seungcheol in handcuffs. It really does a lot for your endless arousal where Choi Seungcheol is involved.

“You happened to interrupt my favourite hobby by almost getting arrested and making me come to your rescue.”

“If you say you were watching those fucking videos again–” he starts.

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't increase your security and make it harder for me to put up new cameras.” You can’t help but pout a little; disappointed and heartbroken at your inability to get new spank-bank material. At least currently. You’re determined where stalking Seungcheol is involved and have already been devising plans.

“I did that so that I don't have your perverted ass watching me in my private spaces!” he barks. “I swear, one day, I'm going to actually choke you.”

“Do it.” The sparkle in your eyes makes Seungcheol groan in frustration and tip his head back, eyes closing as he prays to a god that he doesn't believe in for the strength to handle you and your endless depravities. “Question.”

“What?” He sighs and lifts his head to look at you resignedly. After knowing you for so many years, he knows it's just easier to play along, unless he wants to deal with you badgering him for the rest of the day.

“Would you use your hands to choke me?”

“What else?”

“Your thighs–”

“Shut up,” he groans and pushes himself further upright. “Can you go a single day without making a remark about my thighs?”

You don’t hesitate to respond shamelessly “No. Can you crush my head between them like you did that watermelon?”

“I should've never done that. I thought playing along would make you shut the fuck up asking, but no, you're even worse.”

“I appreciate art, and those thighs, Choi Seungcheol, are pure fucking art.”

“We have very different definitions of art,” he deadpans.

“Yes, I know.” You roll your eyes. “You like silicone and spray tan.”

“Do I?” He raises an amused eyebrow at you when you look at him suspiciously.

“Every woman I've seen you fuck are more silicone than my dildo collection.”

“Not gonna comment on the collection,” he mutters, looking more like he's convincing himself that his curiosity about how extensive your collection may be is not worth actually engaging you in a discussion about your sex life. Which, he knows, heavily involves you masturbating to those videos of him masturbating.

“Do you want to see?” you offer brightly. “I have one that I think could compare to your cock.” Your gaze drops down to his crotch where there's an obvious bulge, which you know is him flaccid. “Maybe...” You suck on your bottom lip thoughtfully as your mind runs wild with memories of the sight of his cock peeking through his fist as he chased his high. Or wrapped in rubber as he bent another woman with fake tits over his desk, or face first against a too-rough wall, to take what he wants.

You really don't know how he can claim to not have a type when you truly have only seen him actually having sex with one type of woman. You've seen him seduce and hit on a wide range of people— not even just women—, but that's always to get his way, and he doesn't fuck them, even if he does sometimes make out with them just to win them over.

“Stop thinking about my cock,” Seungcheol deadpans, snapping you back to reality, and causing you to look up at him, though your gaze darts back down upon realising there's a change in the bulge in your periphery vision. “Don't–”

“Are you getting hard?!” you gasp, shuffling onto your knees excitedly and gripping the grate.

“No.”

“Liar.” You grin, eyes sparkling.

Seungcheol knows he's done for now. For years you've been trying to fuck him, and now, now he's actually lost his usual firm grip on his own libido and let you see that he's not actually turned off by you in any way.

“So, what's going to happen, Cheolie–” He swears at you, head tipping back to stare up at the ceiling. Of course, you ignore the interruption. “Seeing as you ruined my me-time, I'm going to come back there–”

“And uncuff me.”

“No, silly boy,” you giggle. “And ride your giant cock.”

Seungcheol curses under his breath and swallows before lifting his head to look at you.

For a few moments, you both just stare at each other. You, in wait for permission— because although you do a lot of questionable shit, you'd never physically force yourself on anyone—; and Seungcheol clearly in thought.

“Get back here,” he decides in a low, rough tone that makes your lower stomach twist and squeeze with genuine aroused excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” you exhale, climbing out of the car, where minutes ago you parked in one of the many empty warehouses belonging to Seungcheol’s gang.

Seungcheol watches through the window as you make short work of kicking off your shoes and removing your trousers and panties. He tries to look at you properly, but that stupid fucking police uniform shirt you're wearing hangs to the top of your thighs and makes it so that he can't see shit. Not even once you've got the back door open and crawl into the backseat.

“You got a condom?” he asks. He lets out a harsh exhale when you start to palm at his cock without warning.

“Nope.” You shrug carelessly and use your free hand to open his belt, before working on the button and zipper of his jeans. “Got a problem with that?”

“Fucking you raw?” You hum in confirmation and reluctantly let go of his cock so that you can yank down his jeans and boxers. Seungcheol helpfully lifts his hips off the seat, leaning back onto his shoulders against the backrest for balance to let you get the clothing down to his knees and reveal his rapidly hardening cock to your greedy gaze. “You may be fucking psychotic at the best of the times, and weirdly fucking obsessed with me–”

“Hey,” you complain, pouting at him offendedly.

“Are you really pouting at me for calling you psychotic?” he deadpans in disbelief. He's called you worse before, much worse, and you usually just giggle and act like he's given you a giant compliment.

“What? No,” you scoff and move over to straddle his thighs. “It's you saying weirdly obsessed as if you're not the single hottest person I've ever met. How dare you?”

Seungcheol licks his lips and looks down to watch what he thought was you making a move to ride his cock like you said you would. But no, you adjust your position at the last second and sit directly on his left thigh.

“You're so fucking wet,” he comments, voice thick with arousal and awe. His mouth drops open a little when you drag your slick pussy over his thigh and smear wetness over bare skin. “Fuck.”

“This is what you do to me, Cheolie,” you complain, and wrap your hand around his cock roughly. He groans and tips his head forward, thunking his forehead on your shoulder as you jerk him in time with the drag of your pussy up and down his thigh; he tenses it to make his muscles bulge and give you something firmer to grind your clit down on. It feels better than you could’ve imagined, and you’ve fantasised about riding Seungcheol’s beefy thighs more times than you can count.

“You're so fucking shameless,” he grunts after a moment of just watching your movements. You're torturing him with the too-rough, slow pull of your palm against his cock, never close enough to the top to catch any of the precum that's starting to dribble down the side.

“For you, not anyone else.”

“You're going to give me a giant head.”

“It'll match your cock.”

Seungcheol huffs a laugh and lifts his head to look at you. “You gonna sit on it then?”

“I'd love to, but you didn't actually say you're okay with not using a condom. I know you always do with those women.”

“You're not them,” it's perhaps the softest fucking thing Seungcheol has ever said to you. Your movements slow to a stop as you stare at him in surprise. “I trust you with every fucking aspect of the gang; trust you to back me up more than I do anyone else. You think I'd put my life in your hands and not the health of my dick?” He scoffs. “I trust you to not do this if you have anything you could pass on, and I know I sure as fuck don't.”

“And what if you knock me up?” Seungcheol raises his eyebrows at you bewilderedly, barely even noticing that you've stopped grinding on his thigh and have moved over to hover over his cock. “What?”

Seungcheol opens his mouth to respond but you decide to drop down onto his cock, letting his thick length split you open harshly as you both moan at the sudden friction. “Fuck!” he exclaims, head tipped back and eyes screwed shut. “You–you fucking idiot!” He lifts his head to look at you. “You didn't even take it slow! You could get fucking hurt!”

“Good, I like it.” You smirk, proud of yourself for getting the usually so put-together man so worked up. There's something beautifully wild in his dark eyes, and a pretty pink smeared over his cheeks.

You really wish you hadn’t left your phone in your trousers; you’d love to take a photo of him right now. You’d put it as your lock screen, and he’d probably threaten to beat your ass if you don’t remove it, yet he never follows through with his threats to you. A bit of spanking surely wouldn’t be undesirable, not if it’s Seungcheol’s firm hand landing on your ass.

“You're fucking crazy.”

“Yep.” You grin, and grind down against him, breath catching as his cock presses against multiple sensitive spots inside you that has you repeating the swirl of your hips again, and again, and again.

“Fu–fuck, just ride me, shit,” he groans, trying to urge you to bounce by thrusting his hips up against you.

“Don't you like this?” You pout at him, faux-offended, and keep at your grinding. You know he likes it, it's obvious by the tightness of his expression. The pleasure is clear in his furrowed brows and tense jaw, in his shoulders pressed back against the seat, and biceps bulging as he tries to free himself from the cuffs.

You really hope he doesn't break them; you really fucking like him like this. Then again, the thought of Seungcheol using his stupidly beefy arms to break free from his binds so that he can grab your hips and force you to take the pummelling of his giant dick against your pussy walls, well, that's a real fucking nice thought.

It makes you clench down on him, and he moans, head tipping back and showing you the unblemished expanse of his throat. You wonder if he'd let you bite him.

“Can I bite you?” you ask, falling still.

“What the fuck?” He looks at you as if you're insane. Which, not exactly a new expression on the man when he's faced with you. But this time he looks utterly offended too.

“Is that a no?” You pout.

“I don't give a fuck, just keep going!” he demands, looking crazed.

“Can I kiss you too?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes and instead of verbally responding, he tilts forward to crash his lips to yours, desperation urging him to kiss you in such a filthy way that your pussy throbs. “Bounce,” he growls against your lips, before letting out a string of almost whispered praise when you obey and start to lift and drop yourself, finally riding his cock like both of you have been wanting for, admittedly, longer than he's been in cuffs.

To your surprise, Seungcheol keeps kissing you and chases your lips every time you lean back or turn your head for breath, or just because you think he probably wants to stop and focus on your pussy dragging up and down his cock, soaking him with every wet smack of your thighs against his.

“Che–Cheol,” you pant out, knotting your fingers in his hair to force him back and allow you to actually breathe. He moans deeply, and his eyes roll back.

Very interesting reaction indeed.

You never took Seungcheol to like having his hair pulled; but the filthy moans he lets out every time you experimentally tighten or yank on the strands now you've got the idea in your head, tells you that the man really fucking likes it. Not even mentioning how he fucks up into you harder every time too.

“Good boy,” you compliment breathlessly, looking down at his cock sliding into you as you pretty much just hover over him now; more interested in finding out what makes him tick and turns him on than actually riding him. Not that you need to when he's doing a good enough job fucking you, even with his arms restrained.

You just know he'd ruin you if he had full use of his body. He'd ruin you, and you'd thank him for it and ask to repeat it every fucking day. He could break your hips and you'd thank him.

“Oh, fuck, I–I'm gonna cum,” he warns, making your eyes widen in alarm.

“No!”

Seungcheol opens his eyes to look at you with equally as wide eyes yet doesn't stop fucking into you. “The fuck you mean no?”

“You can't cum yet! I'm not done!”

“I'm gonna–”

“No!”

“Fuck.” His eyes roll back, and he lets out a string of porn-worthy moans as he jerks up into you a few times harshly while filling you with cum.

You can only gawp at him in disbelief, one hand still in his hair and the other braced on his heaving chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” you exclaim, slapping his chest as he slouches against the seat while trying to catch his breath back. “You useless man!” You pinch his nipple where it's pressing against his t-shirt, making him yelp and shoot his eyes open to look at you.

“What the fuck?!”

“What kind of a gang boss are you, huh?” you berate, climbing off him, and wincing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of you, trailing cum with it. You don't even care that it's getting all over him and the seats as you move. “To bust in minutes; you that pussy whipped, Choi Seungcheol?” you tut and shove him down on the seats.

“Ow, you fucking–” he cuts off, awkwardly wriggling to get on his back instead of laying painfully on his right shoulder. “I'm gonna beat your ass as soon as these cuffs are off, bitch,” he warns, watching you with dark eyes, half warning, half aroused, as you clamber over his body.

“Ooh, call me more names, my likey.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as you plant your knees either side of his face.

It visibly takes everything in Seungcheol to keep his eyes on your face and not look at your pussy where it’s inches from his face and dripping cum down your slick inner thighs. “You're clinically fucking insane, aren't you?”

“I work for you; comes with the job,” you coo, leaning over to plant your left hand on the door above his head to get your balance while your right hand knots into his hair, making him let out a groan that travels through your body as your pussy meets his parted lips. “Now, make me cum like a good boy, Cheolie.”

To your utter delight, the words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol's tongue is dragging through your folds, uncaring that he's swallowing down his own cum as he enthusiastically starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Honestly, you've never seen Seungcheol do this. You've never known if he's the type of man to eat pussy and if so, if he does it as a means to get his dick wet or because he actually enjoys it. But now? Now you fucking know.

Seungcheol is making more noise than you are as he greedily laps and sucks at your pussy, alternating between thrusting his tongue into your hole and suckling on your clit. You swear, the man is determined to suck your soul out through your clit. He's not gentle about it at all; but you can't lie, you really fucking enjoy the rough, messy actions.

“T–that's it,” you encourage when his tongue is back inside of you as deep as he can get it to lick at your inner walls greedily, nose grinding against your clit with every movement of his head, and his eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

His face is buried so deep between your thighs that you're positive he can't breathe, but even when you loosen your hold on his hair and stop moving your hips against his face to let him have space, he dives in even deeper somehow.

The pure unfiltered enthusiasm he devours your pussy with sends you hurtling to a powerful orgasm that takes you a bit by surprise when he gets a little too into it and his teeth drag over your skin. You didn't know you like that, but now you certainly do as you shudder and gasp over him. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you let the vibrations of his groans and moans help ride you through your climax as you smother him in your pussy.

Your legs feel like jelly when you shakily clamber off his face and drop to sit on his still exposed thighs. His cock is making a valiant effort to get hard again. It's very distracting, but you're both breathing too hard and trying to remember how to get air into your lungs to even consider going for round two. Well, mostly.

“Please tell me you have a key for these,” Seungcheol says once he's caught his breath a few minutes later, still laid on his back across the seats with his eyes closed.

“No.” You snigger at the pissed off look he gives you once he lifts his head enough to look at you. “Since when have I needed keys to open locks?”

“Good point.” He drops back down, though immediately lifts his head again when you dance your fingers teasingly over his semi-erect dick. “Don't.”

“Why not?” You pout and wrap your hand around his cock, thumbing at the head a little harshly, but he clearly likes it, judging by the way he gets harder in your hold and hisses, hips pushing up automatically to encourage you.

“Because I'll fucking dislocate my shoulders,” he points out, trying to roll his shoulders but not really doing a good job thanks to his forced position. “And I can't hold you down and fuck you if my arms don't fucking work, can I?”

“You actually want to do that?”

“Always have.” He shrugs, then slumps in relief when you let go of him and shuffle back.

“No, you've never wanted to fuck me.” You frown confusedly at him as he sits up with a few little grunts from the effort and release of pressure against his arms from being laid on them.

“I've always wanted to fuck your insane ass, which I guess makes me insane too. I know you're into some fucked up shit; I've seen the porn you watch.”

“Don't kink shame me.”

“Don't fucking use my computer to watch porn then!”

“But your office chair is big enough that I can spread my legs comfortably on to touch myself.”

“You've masturbated in my office chair?” he deadpans, looking unimpressed. Yet, when you nod in confirmation, you notice the flicker of arousal in his gaze. “Great, now I'm going to be thinking about that when I'm supposed to be working.”

“You can always call me, and I'll happily sit under your desk with your cock in my mouth; keep it warm and ready to sit on when you're done working.”

“This is why I never fucking let you know.” He shuffles towards the still open door, making you back out until you're standing on still slightly trembling legs. “Knew I'd never be able to stop once I had you.” Seungcheol gets out of the car and turns his back to you. “Get these off me so I can bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk.”

“Don't need to tell me twice.” You quickly grab your lock-picking set from your trouser pocket before kneeling down behind Seungcheol to unpick the cuffs.

It takes you longer than it should to pick the lock, purely because you're very distracted by his bare, plump ass right in front of your face. As soon as he moves his just freed hands to roll his shoulders and rub his red-raw wrists, you lean forward and bite his asscheek.

“What the fuck?!” he shrieks, jolting away and turning to face you with wide eyes and red cheeks. “Did you just bite my ass?”

“Yes,” your confirmation is utterly shameless, as you stare up at him from where you’re still on your knees.

Seungcheol stares back at you for a moment, before sliding his hand into your hair and tugging you forward, smirking as your mouth opens wide to accept his cock without question or complaint.

“Good girl,” he breathes out as you immediately start to suck and lick at him, humming and making appreciative noises at finally having his cock in your mouth. It's only taken five years.

Though Seungcheol doesn't let you enjoy him as thoroughly as you'd like. As soon as his tip touches your throat from your attempt to start deepthroating him, he pulls you off and yanks you up to your feet.

You're not given time to even complain or whine or beg for his cock back before he's got you with your hands on the roof of the car, and chest bowing into the open doorway so that he can grind his cock against your still sopping wet pussy.

“You never explained the knocked-up comment,” he informs as he crowds up against your back, one big hand holding your wrists by the edge of the roof and the other gripping your hip tight.

“What?”

“You said about me getting you knocked up.”

“And?”

“We both got done, on the same fucking day, remember? We’re medically infertile.” He nips at your earlobe a little harshly, and grins smugly when your breath catches and you press back against his cock.

“Never heard of a breeding kink, Cheolie?”

“Huh, you're into that?”

“I'm into anything if it's you.”

He pauses his movements, lips parted against your ear for a few seconds, before he suddenly lets go of your hip and pulls his own backwards so that he can grab his cock and lead it to your entrance. He feeds it into you just far enough that he can let go and take your hip back into his hold before he thrusts forward, burying his cock into you in one quick, hard thrust. It jolts you forward and makes you moan loudly.

“Gonna fill you up every fucking day, baby,” he promises, sounding far more affected than he did moments ago. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it sticks. Gonna breed you so fucking good, yeah?”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, fuck me full, Cheolie,” you agree, nodding madly, and arching your back to push back against him, while widening your stance to get him deeper— even if it means you have to push up onto your tiptoes to account for the height difference.

“That's my good fucking girl,” he approves, pushing your shirt up and holding it at your waist to give him full view of your ass as he begins to fuck into you harshly.

Honestly, you have no idea if you're truly alone in the warehouse; you know that various gang members use the warehouses for meets and their own trysts, but you do not give a single flying fuck.

You moan loud and shameless as Seungcheol fucks all thoughts from your head. He clearly doesn't care if anyone hears either; he moans and grunts without care, growling dirty words at you— which you can barely babble a response to due to the quickly growing pleasure in your body.

“Never letting anyone touch this pussy again,” he declares in amongst his moans and panting, not slowing down once in his determination to ruin you. “You’re mine, understand?”

You nod rapidly but can’t answer as that ball of pleasure in your belly clenches so tightly at his possessive words. As soon as his palm comes down on your ass with the intention of prompting you to verbally respond, that ball bursts; sending pleasure through your whole body, and making your consistent moans turn higher in pitch, babbling his name repeatedly as your pussy convulses around his still-pistoning cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fucking into you a few more times before he slows to a gradual stop. You can feel that he’s still hard within you and it makes you whine a little, pushing your hips back against him to try and get him back to work. “You’re shaking,” he points out, pulling out and carefully helping you down onto flat feet, taking some pressure off of your thighs. You melt back against him when he winds his arms around your waist supportively and kisses your head.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes as you catch your breath back, and your body stops shaking like a fucking leaf.

“You okay?” he asks softly, lips trailing over your cheek and temple. It’s much too tender. You like it, yeah, but you hadn’t been prepared for the care he’s giving you.

He’s always cussed at you and called you names while looking at you with disturbed expressions. You’ve never cared about that; the names and harsh words have truly never bothered you, they amuse you more than anything. Seungcheol has never actually hurt you; even when he’s slapped you away from him or thrown items at you, he’s always purposely near-missed you. His aim is too good to unintentionally miss you all the time.

But this; the fingers trailing over you mindlessly, the lips brushing against your skin, and the words spoken in a fond voice you’ve never even fucking heard the man use, well, that’s a lot to take in.

“No,” you reply.

“Oh, what can I do? Did I hurt–”

“You can go back to fucking me.”

“You’re still shaking.”

“That’s because you were doing a good job! Gold star, Seungcheol!”

“What happened to Cheolie?”

“You don’t even fucking like it!” You groan and wriggle out of his arms with every intention of pushing him away and getting your clothes back on, but he pulls you right back in, chest to chest, and looks at you so devastatingly fucking adoringly that your breath catches in your throat in a giant ball of what the fuck Choi Seungcheol.

“I like it,” he murmurs. “I like it because it’s you. I just…couldn’t let you know that.”

“And now you can? You fucked me and now suddenly everything changes?”

“You wanted things to be the same?” He frowns, hurt trickling onto his expression as his arms fall away from you.

“I thought it was just sex,” you admit.

“Right,” he scoffs, yanking his boxers and jeans up as he steps away from you, dick sadly deflated despite being hard and pressed against your ass a minute ago. “See, this is why I never fucking wanted this!” he exclaims, turning angry now as he reaches down to grab your panties and trousers to toss at you harshly. You wince when the police-issue gun and holster smack into your ribs.

Seungcheol pauses for a split-second, noticing that he hurt you, but then he carries on, throwing your boots at you next. You don’t even bother trying to catch them and let them collide painfully with your thighs then topple down, the hard edges of the soles sending pain through the tops of your feet.

“Why are you just fucking standing there?!” he barks, stalking over to yank the items from your hands and get to his knees to roughly force your feet into the trousers and panties at once.

“Seungcheol–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. For the first time, you listen to him.

A few minutes later, you’re in the passenger seat of the car as Seungcheol drives recklessly through the back streets. You don’t even have it in you to tell him to slow down because you both would get arrested, and you don’t think even his lawyers could talk him out of getting locked up for driving a fake police car— with fake licence plates, and a fake cop in the passenger seat— over the speed limits, without either of you wearing seat belts.

He drives to a side street behind his apartment building, and doesn’t even put the car in park, just stops it and gets out, slamming the door behind him before storming off. You take it for the harsh dismissal it is and climb over the centre console to get into the driver’s seat to head off.

For the first time in years, you don’t see Seungcheol for days. You don’t think it’s wise to test him right now. You still don’t think he’d hurt you, but you think your presence would hurt him, and you don’t want that.

Despite what Seungcheol obviously thinks— and with good reason too because you didn’t say anything otherwise—, you do care about the man. A hell of a fucking lot.

It wasn’t instant; there wasn’t a moment where your eyes fatefully locked across the table on that set-up blind date between you and you just knew you were destined to live happily ever after together, that stuff is all bullshit anyway. You met like any other pair on a blind date with nothing spectacularly big and romantic about it. Really, the date was really both of your little groups of criminals and deviants trying to get information on the other group. You had both easily clocked one another, and although it could’ve gone badly, Seungcheol had asked you to team up on a job, and his gang was born shortly after.

Your connection was about work from day one; but spending time with the man— even when he told you to fuck off when you would jokingly hit on him—, it kind of really gave you a giant fucking weak spot in the shape of his stupid, charming face.

The relentless flirting and sexual remarks, although they are all genuine, became your way to hide the truth of your feelings. Lean into lust to hide the love. It just seems that it worked too fucking well.

You had honestly forgotten that the flutter in your stomach when your eyes meet Seungcheol’s isn’t all lust; that it isn’t just horny little demons running rampant and trying to tell you to get his cock in you, but butterflies too. Excited, pretty little butterflies flapping their wings and trying to lift you up into the clouds to where you and Seungcheol can skip merrily through the meadows together hand in hand like that scene in Shrek before the villagers chased the ogres down with pitchforks.

But that isn’t realistic. You can’t skip hand in hand through a meadow, mostly because Seungcheol has damaged his knees from throwing himself around too much to skip anywhere— though it would be funny to watch his hobbling attempt.

Well, at least up until a few days ago you thought it wasn’t realistic. You didn’t think Seungcheol has anything but a respect for you as one of his gang members, and a fucking good one too. He often turns to you to get shit done when others have failed. Or if it’s too risky, too important to send others in, you’re the one he goes to. You thought that’s all your relationship equates to.

But it seems, you haven’t paid enough attention to Seungcheol to have missed the man apparently having feelings for you.

It’s now obvious to you that he holds some kind of candle for you, but you’re not naive or hopeless enough to assume his tender touches— which had turned to hurt then anger— to be love. Choi Seungcheol likes you. Romantically.

Sexually too. That part was great, top marks. Gold star indeed. If that’s all it had been, you’re pretty sure you’d have been spread over his desk every day since; or tucked under it to cockwarm him with your mouth just like you offered. That would’ve been great.

But nope, feelings. And not the touching each other up kind of ones.

All in all, it’s a giant fucking shitshow, and not in the way you purposely orchestrate for your own twisted amusement. You hope things will fix themselves shortly, because you don’t know how much more of this you can handle.

But honestly, you really don’t think they will.

“So,” Minghao starts as he invites himself to join you in the car you’ve borrowed for the fun of it. You look at him with noodles hanging out of your mouth, and wide eyes. “What the fuck did you do to piss Seungcheol off so much?”

“Me?” you garble around the food still hanging out of your mouth and point at your own chest. The look the man gives you is utterly disgusted, and it makes you snigger before you actually chew and swallow your food. “Why do you assume I did something to piss him off?”

“Maybe the fact you haven’t been around in a week and every time I’ve suggested he asks for your help like we need, he pretends to have never heard of you while breaking yet another fucking pen in his fist.”

“Sounds like you need to stop getting cheap pens,” you mutter, reaching for your drink in the cup holder, but he takes it.

You watch as Minghao noisily slurps up the liquid through the straw, defiantly holding eye contact with you. But then he gags and quickly puts the cup in your awaiting hand so that he can turn, open the car door, and spit the drink out onto the parking lot of the restaurant you’ve parked in to enjoy your lunch.

“What the fuck is in that?!” he shrieks when he’s done sputtering, turning to look at you with wide eyes behind his wire-framed glasses.

“Coke.”

“That is not coke.”

“Both kinds. And mint schnapps.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Valid.” You nod and slurp at your unholy concoction.

It wasn’t even your choice; you accidentally dropped a badly sealed baggie of the white powder into your cup when you tipped the contents of the hip flask from the glovebox— where you also found the baggie of illegal drugs— into the cup. You had assumed it was whiskey or vodka or something normal, not fucking mint schnapps of all things. That’s what you get for tipping out the contents of a stolen hip flask from a stolen car into your drink without at least giving it a cursory sniff-test first.

Minghao watches you with something like fear on his features when you don’t even flinch at the truly disgusting flavour that coats your tongue. You’ve had worse things in your mouth, you can say that much.

Mostly thanks to Soonyoung’s own habit of shoving any food and drink into his mouth to consume like some kind of tastebud-less heathen. There’s probably a reason you’ve been friends for so long. One that doesn’t involve a blood pact you made as idiot children that you’re both too stubborn to turn your back on first.

“So, what did you do? Ask to put something questionable in his ass?” Minghao soldiers on as he steals the unopened chocolate bar from the dashboard to open and bite into, looking very relieved to have the haunting taste of your drink covered by the sweet on his tongue. “Ask him to put something questionable in your ass?”

“No,” you scoff, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Minghao pauses in his rapid chewing to watch you consideringly. He’s never seen you like this; like you have actual human emotions beside lust and maniacal joy at making others suffer in various ways borne of your chaotic ideas.

“It’s serious,” he realises in a mutter. You shrug and give up with your lunch, suddenly not hungry for it, and pass it over to him so that you can start the car up. “What happened?”

“What’s the job?” you ask as you drive out of the lot in a way that closes the car door he hadn’t fully closed. The slam of the door makes Minghao jolt, he had forgotten it was even open, and then he rolls his eyes a little at you not asking him to shut it before driving off.

“He’s dealing with it.”

“That’s stupid if you think I should be doing it.”

“Yeah, well, according to him, you don’t exist, so he’s the best chance.”

“If you wanted to send me in, that means it requires a delicate touch–”

“You set a warehouse on fire last month; that’s not a delicate touch,” he reminds in a deadpan tone. You’d think that after these years of knowing you, he’d be used to your habits and hobbies by now, but nope. Minghao never fails to look at you like he has no idea what kind of demonic entity you truly are under your meatsuit. It’s kind of a compliment, really.

“That wasn’t for a job, that was for fun, leave me alone.”

“You…whatever.” He waves a dismissive hand, batting the subject aside before you can divulge further information about your less than moral interests. Which says a lot coming from the second-in-command of such a notorious gang. “He can handle the job; it’s just a different direction than you’d take.”

“Has he gone in fists swinging?”

“No. He’s seducing someone for information.”

“Ah, dick swinging,” you mutter, feeling a sourness growing in your chest and rising up your throat. You’ve not felt this before when you’ve heard of Seungcheol seducing someone to get the job done.

You haven’t even felt it when you’ve literally walked in on him balls-deep in some woman bent over his desk. You always just stand there until he notices you, then annoy him by dragging out whatever it is you’ve turned up for. It’s all fun and games. This burning tickling your throat isn’t.

Jealousy is not something you’re personally familiar with, and you immediately decide you hate it.

“You know he doesn’t…” he trails off, expression twisting as he recalls something, based on his expression. “Well, usually he doesn’t fuck his marks, but–”

“What?!” you exclaim, slamming on the breaks, and looking at Minghao with crazed eyes.

Minghao yells, which only grows when a car audibly swerves behind to not rear-end you. “Fucking drive, you idiot!”

“He’s fucked the mark?” you ask, voice eerily level in a way that makes Minghao look at you and swallow thickly.

For the first time, Minghao is genuinely scared of you. He knows you’re an unhinged, unrelenting mess at the best of times; and in a way, you do always scare him, because he never knows what you’re going to do. You could easily hurt him or anyone, but you haven’t; you’re usually too busy making sexual remarks to Seungcheol. Or to someone about Seungcheol, loudly enough that the man himself can clearly hear.

And Minghao knows you’re a competent fighter, he’s seen proof of it, but he’s never seen you fight yourself. He’s never seen you look so serious and pissed before either.

The carnage he’s seen the aftereffects of; the destruction you’ve caused, yet you’ve always had a grin on your face afterwards as if you’ve just been to an amusement park and had the time of your life splattered with blood. He knows how much damage you can cause in a good mood. So Minghao is genuinely terrified of what hell you can create when you’re in a foul mood, and right now? He thinks you would burn the world down along with anyone who gets in your way.

“He–he hasn’t, but he said he will if he needs to.”

“Where is he?”

The apartment you let yourself into is familiar, and really not where you expected to end up when Minghao had given you his phone to let you use the app he and Seungcheol use to track each other. You hadn’t known about this app, and you can only assume Seungcheol had made sure you didn’t know so that you couldn’t use it to stalk him. Which…valid worry. You definitely would’ve stalked him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you demand as you step into the living room and find Seungcheol slouched on the couch with a glass of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other and balanced on his thick thigh.

“This is my home,” he points out. “The fuck are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” you ask, peering around before inviting yourself to walk through the apartment, slamming open doors to rooms as you go in search of the woman Seungcheol was seducing for information.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he retorts, following after you once he’s put the glass and bottle down on the coffee table. “Who?”

“The mark; Hao said you were planning to fuck her for information.”

“And you thought I’d bring her here?”

“Well how the fuck should I know?!” You turn to face him. “You don’t fuck your marks, Seungcheol! But you were going to, or have…” You eye him over; a black shirt unbuttoned to his chest and tucked into black trousers that show off his thick thighs and plump ass. Trousers you’ve told him you hope he never stops wearing, and then he promptly did stop, to your disappointment. At least you thought he had.

“I didn’t,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets after they twitch at his sides.

“No?” You lift your gaze up to meet his eyes, or at least try to, but he’s pointedly looking at the wall beside your left shoulder. “Did you get what you needed without fucking her?”

“No,” he admits, and tenses his jaw a few times.

“Then what?”

“I don’t want to fuck her! I thought I could do it, but I can’t.” He huffs and turns to storm back to the living room. Of course, you follow, and watch as he downs the contents of his glass before pouring out more.

“Why did you suddenly think you could when you’ve never wanted to fuck for a job? You said that to me before; that you don’t ever want to fuck for work.”

“Because…it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“Obviously it does.” You walk over and take the glass from him after he’s swallowed down the contents again. “This isn’t you, Seungcheol. I’m the one who drinks at 1pm, not you.”

“Well, maybe I should be allowed to be the fucked-up asshole for once, huh?” He stares down at you darkly. “Why are you allowed to be a fuck up and I can’t?”

“Because you’re better than me, you always have been.” You pick up the bottle and turn to take it to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises as he follows you. “I don’t mean that. You’re not a fuck up.”

“I am. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it, Seungcheol, so–”

“Please stop calling me that,” he breathes out.

You finish putting the lid on the bottle and put it in the liquor cabinet before putting the dirty glass in the dishwasher, and then you turn to look at him while leaning back against the counter behind you with your arms crossed loosely over your chest.

He looks…sad. You hate it.

“That’s your name, that’s what everyone calls you. That’s what you’ve been trying to get me to call you for years.”

“And you never fucking listened. Can’t…can’t we go back to that?”

“I don’t know, can we?”

Seungcheol does nothing but look at you for what feels like more than enough time for him to come to a definite answer hours ago. But he just keeps looking at you with those giant sad fucking eyes, and his fingers gripping the edge of the island counter in front of him as if he needs to hold on to something and what he wants to hold isn’t in reach.

“I can try,” he offers. “Can you?”

“I’m not the one who has been denying the other’s existence.”

“You’re not the one who got their heart broken,” he retorts sharply before taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes. A clear sign of trying to calm himself. “No, I can’t; I can’t do this,” he decides, opening his eyes to land them back on you. “You need to leave.”

“For how long?”

“This is my apartment–”

“That’s not what I meant,” you uncross your arms and walk the few steps to the island in front of you, on Seungcheol’s adjacent right and close enough that either of you could easily reach out and touch. Neither of you do. “I’ll leave your apartment; I won’t argue about leaving now. But I need to know if this is the end of everything, Seungcheol. The past five years of working together; does it end now?”

“Is that all you care about? The fucking gang? Not our relationship? But the fucking gang?”

“That is our relationship.” You give him a bewildered look. “Before last week there’s never been anything but the gang.”

“You’re serious,” he mutters in disbelief.

“Well, yeah.”

“Get out.”

“That doesn’t answer–”

“Are you seriously that fucking stupid?!” he snaps, poking his own head. “You got nothing going on up here past work, huh?”

You just stare at him, not sure how to respond, because admittedly, the things he’s been saying to you today have been hurting. Five years of insults and degrading names hasn’t once bothered you. But he’s never said hurtful things like this before.

“How Soonyoung has put up with you for so fucking long is beyond me.” He scoffs, and steps backwards away from you with a nasty expression on his face, eyes dark and cold in a way he has never looked at you. “He must be as fucking stupid as you.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that,” you warn, your own expression turning hard in defence of your best friend. “Say whatever you want about me but do not say a bad word against him.”

“Why not? Hurt your feelings?” he taunts. “Didn’t know you have those. Sure fucking fooled me.”

“Of course I have feelings, you dick, some of us just know how to keep them to ourselves and not let them rule our mouths.”

“Well you’ve kept yours really fucking close, great fucking job there. Gold fucking star. You’ve kept to yourself so much nobody knows shit about how you feel. I thought I did, but obviously, I was fucking wrong.” He turns to walk off yet turns back around and stalks right back to lean his palms on the counter and stare intently at you. “Just tell me this, did I ever mean fucking anything to you? Did you ever even think of me as a friend? I thought you did, but you’ve dismissed this so fucking easily. You’re so fucking willing to walk away and only ask about the gang that I’m pretty sure I’ve been a naive fucking idiot this whole time.”

“Friends?” you mumble in surprise, because honestly, you’ve never thought of Seungcheol as your friend. You’ve never tried to name what he is to you, but you’re not sure you could if you tried.

Soonyoung is your friend, even Minghao you’d consider a friend. But Seungcheol? Perhaps, at one point, you could’ve thought of him in such a way, but now you’ve been pushing down your true feelings for him for so long that you don’t even know how to classify him. Friend doesn’t feel right.

“Yes, friends, you know, people you like being around, people you can talk to about stuff other than work, get a drink with and have fun with.”

“Have we ever done any of that?” you genuinely wonder quietly.

You watch as the realisation dawns on Seungcheol, and his anger melts into something pained. “No,” he admits quietly. “We haven’t.”

“Well, I guess there’s the answer,” you mumble, chest aching at what you know this means. That you and Seungcheol have never truly had a relationship of any kind outside of work. You’ve never realised that before; never before had to consider what that means. You wish you had, maybe then things now would be different.

“Right,” he huffs a humourless laugh as he backs up, eyes looking anywhere but you even as he turns. “Show yourself out and don’t…don’t come back.”

You can’t be certain, he talks too quietly and moves out of the kitchen and down the hall too quickly, but you think you catch the glint of tears on his cheeks.

Weeks pass as you go about your life. As you try to make a new life without Seungcheol or his gang playing such a pivotal part in it.

You listened to his wishes; you left and didn’t return. You deleted his number and told Minghao it’s probably wise if he tells everyone that you’ve left the gang and won’t return; and then you deleted and blocked all of their numbers too, once they started calling and texting to ask what the fuck happened.

Soonyoung didn’t know what happened at first, but he loyally left the gang too, and then you both decided to just get new numbers to avoid the hassle of blocking everyone you’ve ever known in relation to the gang. And then they started to turn up at your apartments, so you packed up and left the city, and Soonyoung still didn’t ask what happened.

Of course, you did tell him though. You told him everything that happened with you and Seungcheol and had to talk Soonyoung down from driving back to the city to try and beat up Seungcheol for the things he said to you in his apartment. Try being the keyword, because although Soonyoung is more than a competent fighter and plenty strong enough, one of Seungcheol’s biceps is likely bigger than Soonyoung’s head.

But Soonyoung did calm enough to slap you around the head and call you an idiot for not telling Seungcheol the truth about your feelings when the man was clearly trying to start a relationship with you after fucking you dumb. You argue that the man had just fucked you dumb, so your brain wasn’t working. Soonyoung said your brain doesn’t work full stop. Which…is kind of valid, at least where human relationships are involved.

And that leads us to your new life with your best friend in another town a two-hour drive from the city, and where Soonyoung has already made friends with a man who it took Soonyoung a worryingly long time to realise is a hooker.

You quite like his new friend, and you like playing bodyguard with Soonyoung when Junhui dresses up in expensive clothes to bag the expensive clients his pimp sends him to meet. Junhui loves it too; having the two of you dressed up in suits and following behind him to keep him safe. He doesn’t even mind that you both stay at the edge of the room when he gets to work; honestly, you think he likes putting on a show for an audience.

“This guy is a friend of Jeonghan’s,” Junhui explains from the backseat of the fancy car that you can proudly say you didn’t steal. Soonyoung stole it. You’re so proud of him.

“Which is why daddy Hannie is joining,” Soonyoung hums in understanding, nodding his head, and almost hitting a lamppost before swerving at the last second after peering over the top of his dark sunglasses.

“Remove the fucking glasses, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan, Junhui’s pimp, sighs from Junhui’s right, with both hands gripping the leather seats under him. Which is very understandable. “And please stop lying to me that you have your driver’s licence.”

“Told you it’s obvious,” you mutter to your best friend, who slaps your tit as he childishly mocks you. So you backhand him in the dick, making him groan and double over, one hand over his crotch and his other arm hugging the steering wheel he’s leaning his chest against while biting the top of it in pain.

Junhui sniggers at the antics between you and your best friend, as amused as he ever is by the two of you. While Jeonghan, not for the first time, wonders what kind of circus Junhui found the pair of you in and if they’d take you back.

“So, what’s the deal with this dude?” you ask a few minutes later when Soonyoung parks over three spaces in the hotel parking lot and Junhui cheers at Soonyoung remembering to apply the brakes in time for once.

“He’s an old friend in town for business and wants to sweeten the guy he’s meeting tonight, so he asked me to bring my best,” Jeonghan replies while checking he has everything in his pockets by patting his clothing down thoroughly.

“Aw, Junnie, you’re daddy’s best,” Soonyoung coos, grinning over at Junhui, who preens proudly.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to call me daddy, Soonyoung. I said that to her, not you,” the pimp points out as you all get out of the car.

“What’s hers is mine and mine is hers,” your best friend replies airily.

“You’re married?”

“What? Ew, gross, no,” Soonyoung retches, and then stumbles when you shove him. He collides with the wall of the hotel, making you snort a laugh; at least until he turns and you notice that his glasses are broken, and you can see his unimpressed glare through the missing section of the lens. “I just got these!” he exclaims, taking off the sunglasses, and then carelessly tosses them into the bushes you pass by.

“I’ll get you another pair.”

“Better do. I want Gucci ones.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When Jeonghan looks over at the pair of you in the elevator up to the penthouse suite, he has to do a double take at the Gucci sunglasses perched on Soonyoung’s nose. “Where did you get those?” Soonyoung points at you. Jeonghan gives you a flat look. “Well?”

“They were just sitting there.” You shrug.

“Where?”

You stare back at Jeonghan, making your expression innocent, knowing how much Jeonghan hates it when you pickpocket people for the fun of it. “Some guy’s head.”

“You stole sunglasses while someone was wearing them?”

“It was really impressive.” Soonyoung nods, entirely missing the point of Jeonghan’s gawping. “Jun’s really good at distracting; they make a good team.”

“You fucking helped?” Jeonghan gawps at Junhui, who just smiles sweetly at his pimp. “I’m banning you from hanging out with them.”

“You’re mydaddy, not my father,” Junhui scoffs.

Jeonghan clearly wants to argue more, but the ding echoes in the metal box, signalling that you’ve arrived at the suite; so he just takes a breath, and schools his expression in an impressively short time while the doors open.

The four of you step out into the little lobby before the suite entrance doors, and immediately, you swear, recognising the suited men standing guard outside of the suite.

“Oh, fuck,” Soonyoung whispers.

“You assholes!” one of the men exclaims, stalking over to flying-kick Soonyoung in the back of his thigh. “You fucking ghosted us!”

“Ow, ow, Kwan, stop it!” Soonyoung cries out, trying to stop Seungkwan’s furious kicks and slaps. “I need my legs to protect my slut!”

“Hey!” Junhui exclaims, and slaps Soonyoung too. “I am not yours.”

“Ow, attack her!” Soonyoung tries to shove Seungkwan over to you, but he takes one look at you and shrinks back before going back to hitting Soonyoung while hissing that you scare him too much to try to hit.

“Were you part of the gang?” Jeonghan asks, looking at you.

“You could say that,” you murmur, and look over to the grand double doors, then back to him. “You’re meeting Seungcheol?”

“Yes.”

“We shouldn’t be there, me especially.”

“Do you owe him money?”

“No, nothing like that we just…aren’t on good terms, I guess you could say.”

“Yeah, what happened anyway?” Seungkwan wonders, suddenly at your side and linking his arm with yours. “What’s the gossip?”

“I assume you enjoy having the use of your hands,” you speak, raising an eyebrow at Seungkwan, who backs away with his hands held up in surrender. “Good boy.”

“How much issue would it cause to take you in there?” Jeonghan asks, looking between you, Soonyoung, Junhui, his own expensive watch, and then the doors and back again.

“Oh, a shit ton,” Soonyoung answers with a hum. “We moved two hours away for a reason.” His face falls, and he looks at you with a sad pout. “Do we have to move again now that they know where we live?”

“No!” Junhui whines, wrapping his arms around you. “You have to stay. You’re my bodyguards! I feel so much safer with you watching over me, and I like having you watch too!”

“You can discuss this later; we need to meet Seungcheol before he gets sulky at us for being late,” Jeonghan sighs, tugging Junhui to his side. “You two wait out here. I’ll have to discuss this with Seungcheol to see if he will be against you doing what I fucking pay you for.”

“You pay us?” Soonyoung mutters confusedly, while you just nod at Jeonghan in agreement, so he and Junhui go into the room. “He pays us?”

It all goes a lot better than you expect. You don’t even need to be in the same room as Seungcheol. In fact, you don’t even see him until 3 am the next morning when you’re pulling him off of the man he was supposed to be making a business contract with; but apparently, Seungcheol found it necessary to beat the shit out of him in the hotel lobby.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask once you’ve got Seungcheol outside and around the side of the building. He’s seething, blood smeared over his hands and splattered on his face. “You were supposed to be making an ally, and I thought it was going well! What the fuck happened?!”

“You! It’s always fucking you!” Seungcheol turns to you and puts a hand on your upper chest to roughly pin you against the wall. You let him. “It was going well until he fucking– Why are you even here? You’re not a bodyguard!”

“Yes, I am,” you frown. “I’m here to keep Junhui safe, and I’m good at it.”

“Not in the eyes of assholes like that. You’re just more eye candy bastards like him think they can have. “

“Is that why you beat the shit out of him and ruined the past hours of work? Because he said some remarks about me?” you scoff. “I can handle that, Seungcheol, I–” You cut off when his hand is suddenly at your throat. He’s not squeezing or applying any pressure, but it’s a solid warning that he could.

You should probably be scared, but you’re not; even if the man looks utterly psychotic with blood smeared over him and wide eyes staring down at you. It’s probably really fucked up how hot you find it.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, crowding you further against the wall, getting so close that his thick thigh slots between yours and his left forearm leans on the wall above your head. “What’s my name?” You raise your eyebrow. “Well?”

“Seungcheol,” your defiant response has his fingers curling around your throat and starting to cut off your air flow. It just makes your excitement grow and show in the sparkle of your eyes.

“Try that again,” he warns in a murmur, moving even closer, and pressing his thigh up against your crotch. “Go on.”

“Seungcheol.”

“Bitch.” And then he’s kissing you with the same desperation he first kissed you. His hold is firm around your throat, and his thigh is already rubbing against you in a way that has you grinding down while gripping his waist in one hand, and hip in the other over those fucking trousers that drive you insane. Well, more insane than you already are where Choi Seungcheol is involved. Which really says a lot.

“Uh.” Of course, of fucking course it’s Soonyoung who interrupts you, making you both look at him with matching pissed off expressions. “We should go; that dude is getting taken to the hospital, and the hotel is willing to look the other way thanks to Hannie, provided we all leave and you never show your face again here, Seungcheol. Hannie and Junnie have already gone.”

“She’s coming with me,” Seungcheol informs. “You go.”

“Can’t. Daddy’s banned me from driving.”

“Then fucking walk, Soonyoung.”

“We live so far away,” Soonyoung whines.

“I’m going to break his face if he doesn’t leave right fucking now,” Seungcheol warns as he looks at you.

“Just drive, daddy’s gone,” you point out with a shrug.

“Good point.” Soonyoung nods, then turns and walks off just like that without another word or complaint.

You hope he won’t crash on the way home, or forget that he’s driving a stolen car, meaning that he shouldn’t take it to your shared apartment. But you can never be too sure with Soonyoung. Oh well, he already knows you won’t visit him in jail; just like he wouldn’t you. Your blood pact never said anything about prison, after all.

“This is stupid,” Minghao mutters, glancing over to where Seungcheol has a possessive arm around you in the lift of the hotel they’re staying in for the night— a much less fancy one than the meeting happened in. “You told her to leave, and now you’ve fucking glued yourself to her and lost a lucrative deal to defend her honour or some bullshit.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Seungcheol retorts, giving Minghao a look that his right-hand man just rolls his eyes at.

“Whatever; just don’t expect me to walk on eggshells around you anymore. You’re hurting yourself here and you know it.”

“I’m the one who’s going to get choked,” you point out, earning a disgusted look from Minghao. “What? I know you’re into choking, don’t look at me like that.”

“How do you know what he’s into?” Seungcheol asks, looking between you.

“How do you not know?” you scoff, looking at Seungcheol as if he’s the weird one.

“Because I’ve never had sex with him.”

“Neither have I.”

“Or watched him have sex.”

“I haven’t…okay once or twice…maybe thrice…” Your expression twists thoughtfully as you try to recall every instance where you’ve watched Minghao have sex, intentionally or not.

“What the fuck?!” Seungcheol glares at Minghao, who holds up his hands placatingly.

“She’s a voyeur and I’m an exhibitionist; it just made sense when it happened. She usually walked in anyway. You know she has no sense of personal boundaries and invites herself wherever the fuck she wants to go.”

“You should’ve stopped!”

“You never did,” you point out, and push away from the wall when the doors open and let the three of you enter the corridor. “You never stopped when I walked in on you.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Sex is sex.”

“Right.”

“And I’m leaving, quickly,” Minghao informs, and then all but runs down the hallway ahead of you two to get to his room.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything until you’re both in his hotel room ensuite and he’s leaning back against the sink counter while you clean his split knuckles for him. “Is sex really just sex to you?”

“What else would it be?”

“It means nothing?”

“Is it supposed to?” You raise an eyebrow at him when you lift your head to meet his gaze. He’s got that sad puppy look again, the one that twists your heart painfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” You sigh and focus back on his hand. “Why did you kiss me, Seungcheol?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t want you to leave.”

“And that means choking and kissing me?”

“That’s what you want from me, right? Sex? Just meaningless fucking.”

“No.”

“Oh.” You don’t need to be looking at Seungcheol to know his expression has fallen further into depths that will drag painful claws across your pitiful little heart if you witness it. “You don’t want me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying? I don’t know how to fucking read you, you know? I need you to talk to me. Every time I try to have an honest fucking conversation with you about this, you just stare at me and break my heart without even saying a word; at least have the fucking balls to do it verbally this time.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. It hurts me too; seeing you with that fucking kicked puppy dog look.” You give up cleaning his hand and toss the blood stained cloth into the sink to step back with your hands on your hips. “And I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. I’m fucking…emotionally incompetent!”

“What?”

“I don’t know, that’s what Soonyoung called me when I explained all this to him.”

“Emotionally incompetent?” You nod. “Why did he call you that? I mean, he’s probably right, but he’s usually the first to defend you, so for him to call you that means you fucked up.”

“I hurt you, of course I fucked up.”

“Not returning my feelings doesn’t mean–”

“Cheol.” He immediately cuts off, eyes rounding out at the nickname you haven’t called him in so long. Granted, you haven’t seen him to call him anything in so long, but the point still stands. “When did I actually say I don’t have feelings for you?”

“You said we’re not even friends.”

“We’re not; we might’ve been at one point years ago but…I can’t think of you like that. You…” You sigh and drop your arms to your sides. “You mean too much to me. I don’t know how to put any of it into words, and I was too shocked that day at the warehouse to say anything. And then you got pissed off and threw shit at me, and I just didn’t know how to navigate that. It was a lot.”

“You didn’t even show your face after,” he pretty much whispers, hands gripping the counter either side of his hips to try and ground himself. It reminds you of the day in his kitchen, the last day you saw him; when he was holding the island so tightly to stop himself from reaching for you. “You could’ve come to me and explained, and then we could’ve…things would be different.”

“I thought giving you space would be best. I didn’t want to make you worse. I thought that space would help, but Hao found me and said you were denying my fucking existence and planning to fuck a mark, and obviously you weren’t any better with the space.”

“I was a fucking wreck. I can’t do this; I can’t not have you there turning up to make remarks about my thighs or ass or whatever. I need you there by my side, so come back, please.”

“Just like that? I come back and things go back to how they were?”

“No. You come back and we figure out what works for us.”

“Sex works great; that was good.”

He chuckles and nods a little in agreement. “It was, and I’d really fucking love to do that more; I’m sure you’ve probably got an endless list of fucked up shit you want to do to me.”

“Oh, hell yeah I do,” you confirm, eyes widening as you think of your endless fantasies involving the man in front of you. “How do you feel about taxidermy?”

“We’re not involving taxidermy into our sex life, no fucking way,” he replies firmly. “That’s a hard fucking no; you keep that in your freaky head.”

“Noted. What about anal?”

“You went from taxidermy to anal how exactly?”

“Stuffing.”

Seungcheol tries not to laugh but breaks into an amused smile and motions for you to get closer. “You’re seriously insane, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we discovered this years ago, Cheolie.”

“Mm.” He slides his hands onto your hips as he smiles at you in a soft kind of way that makes your heart race.

“Cheol?” He hums. “Is…I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before they soften back out, and he takes a gentle hold of your face and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “I love you too.”

“Oh, really?” He nods, and you grin happily at him. “That’s cool. We should get married or something.”

“Fucking hell, you can’t just spring that on me,” he groans, hiding his blushing face into your neck as his arms wind around your waist to hold you close.

“But we’re in love; we love each other, why should we wait?” You’re genuinely confused, and it makes him chuckle a little. “I’m serious, Cheol! Why should we wait to get married if that’s what’s going to happen anyway?”

“Alright, baby, let’s get married,” he agrees, straightening up and beaming at you so happily that you can’t help but smile back at him. “We’ll start arranging it as soon as we’re home, hm? But for now–”

“Sex, lots of sex,” you finish for him.

“I was going to say let’s sleep, but you’re right, who even needs sleep?” He hoists you up with a cheeky grin, while you giggle and wrap your arms and legs around him to make it easier for him to take you into the bedroom.

“You didn’t answer me about anal.”

“I don’t have anal lube, babe,” he chuckles, laying you down onto the bed and climbing between your thighs while removing his shirt.

“I don’t have a dildo or strap either,” you pout at the reminder.

“Wait, you meant my ass?”

“Yeah, I really want to fuck your ass; it’s made to be fucked.”

“Uh, I’ll consider it.”

“Okay.” You reach out to pull him back down and slot your lips together shortly. “Now, you owe me.”

“What, why?”

“You said you were going to fuck me until I can’t walk, and that never happened.”

“Because you let me think you don’t want me for more than just sex!”

“All I’m hearing is excuses and not enough action to put your cock in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, get naked.” He slaps your thigh a few times in encouragement while leaning back on his knees to unbuckle his belt. You make zero effort to move at all, except to prop yourself up on your elbows and watch intently as he slowly unfastens his belt. “Are you seriously just going to watch me strip?” he asks while teasingly dragging his fingers across the skin along the edge of his waistband with a cocky smirk once his belt is open.

“Dance for me, pretty boy.”

Seungcheol puts his hands on his hips and waits until you’ve dragged your gaze up from staring at the outline of his cock, over his bare torso, and to his face. He’s raising an eyebrow at you. “Did you just call me pretty boy?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking crazy,” he huffs a short laugh.

“Hey!” You lean up just enough to slap his thigh scoldingly, then sit up fully so that you can grope at his thighs with both hands— while he just watches with an amused, fond little smile at your utterly shameless actions. “You are pretty, my pretty boy.”

“Mm, I can accept that,” he agrees, holding your jaw with one hand firmly to tilt you up as he leans in to brush his lips over yours teasingly. “So long as I’m your pretty boy, I don’t mind being called that. So long as I’m yours, you can call me anything.”

“Okay, sugarplum.” You cackle at the world-weary sigh that Seungcheol lets out against your lips before he leans back to look at you unimpressed. “What’s the matter, pookie?”

“Why did you have to ruin the mood?”

“I ruined the mood?” You smirk and slide one hand up his thigh to grip his cock firmly, making him hiss through his teeth at the sudden, tight pressure. “Feels like you’re still in the mood to me, pretty boy.”

“I really must be insane.”

“We match well then, huh?”

“Mm.” He leans down to kiss you shortly. “Good thing we’re never having kids; they’d be sectioned before they reach adulthood.”

“Our house would be so fucking loud and chaotic, our neighbours would hate us.”

“They would,” he chuckles. “We’ll find somewhere new to live together once we’re married; away from noisy ass neighbours, and with a garden so I can fuck you outside and see how gorgeous you’ll look with the sun shining on you when you’re covered in my cum.”

“There’s a park down the road.”

“No,” he scoffs, and shoves you back to make you lay down before his hands move to roughly yank his belt free. “You’re mine, I’m not letting anyone else see you like that.”

“Even knowing they can look but not touch?”

“Maybe once I’ve covered you in marks and made up for the past five years of not being able to fuck you.”

“Sounds like a party.” You grin and then wiggle excitedly as he taps the folded middle of his leather belt against your inner thigh. “That’d leave pretty marks.”

“Mm, it would. You need to be naked for that though, baby.”

“You need to dance for me first,” you remind matter-of-factly before lacing your fingers together behind your head comfortably.

“You really want me to dance for you?”

“I’ve dreamed about you giving me a strip tease, don’t kill my boner, Cheolie.”

“You’re going to kill my boner if you keep saying shit like this.”

“Guess we need to invest in some gags.”

“Guess we do,” he murmurs, and licks his lips automatically at the thought of your lips stretched around a gag and drool running down your chin as you moan for him. “I’ll give you a strip tease another day; I need to fuck you too much right now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, baby.”

“Okay.” You sit up and get to work, quickly stripping off your clothes, so Seungcheol climbs off of the bed to force his fitted trousers off his body along with his boxers.

When he kneels back on the bed naked, he finds you already laid there utterly nude with legs spread in wait for him to join you.

“How the fuck did you strip so fast?” he gawps, running his hands reverently over your thighs as he settles between them on his knees.

“Years of practise.”

“Stripping?”

“Had to be prepared for the day you give in to my seduction.”

“Well…good job.” He leans down over you, hands propping himself on the mattress so that he can kiss you.

“Thank you,” you preen, and run your hands up his sides to take the chance to touch as much of his strong torso as you can for the first time. You can’t fucking wait to spend the rest of your life touching him up. It’s going to be great. “Now, cock please.”

Seungcheol chokes on a short laugh at your words. “Good use of manners, sweetheart.”

“I thought so too. Definitely deserves a reward.”

“Mm.” He shuffles down a little, so that he can wrap his full lips around your left nipple and suck harshly, intent on starting his plan to cover you in hickies and handprints to mark his property.

“That’ll work,” you mutter, lacing fingers in his hair to encourage his mouth against your breast. “Not cock, but it’ll do for now.”

“Shut up,” he laughs against your skin.

“Make me.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

“I do,” he sighs before moving one hand over your chest and throat until he can press against your parted lips. There’s no resistance at all; your jaw drops enough to allow his middle and ring finger to slide into your mouth. “Good fucking girl,” Seungcheol praises in a low, rough voice as you instantly start to suck at his fingers, swirling your tongue around and between them with happy little moans.

Seungcheol keeps his mouth against your body, sucking and biting violent looking marks into your skin until he’s satisfied with his artwork. He moves down, dragging the fingers from your mouth as he does, smearing your own saliva in a trail all the way until he’s laid on his stomach between your thighs and attaching his mouth to your clit in the same moment he pushes those two wet fingers into you.

“Cheol,” you breathe out, pushing down against his fingers so that he doesn’t even dare think of waiting. He hums against your clit, making your thighs tighten momentarily, before he starts to work his fingers in rapid movements that make your eyes flutter, and fingers grip at him.

As your nails drag over his shoulder lightly, Seungcheol moans and arches up towards your hand, urging you on, encouraging you to grasp at him. Dig your nails in until he hisses and fucks his fingers into you harder and faster.

“H–how much can you take?” he asks, leaning up on his free hand, mouth and chin smeared with your arousal.

“Anything,” you promise, feeling as desperate as the wild darkness in his eyes tells you he feels.

Seungcheol nods and pulls his fingers from you as he moves up onto his knees. He doesn’t even ask you to move, just grabs you and manhandles you onto your front, chest against the mattress, and hips up just enough to give him a better angle to begin sliding his thick cock into you.

Maybe you hadn’t been quite as ready as you could’ve been. As you perhaps should’ve been. It’s been a while since you put anything but your fingers in your pussy for a quick session since moving away from the city. Living with your nosey ass best friend doesn’t give you the freedom to get your toys out; Soonyoung seems to have the uncanny ability of popping up and making a big deal out of it. Lots of screaming and acting like he’s been visually assaulted. You do the same to him. Your relationship is full of a lot of love and mutual, mature respect, clearly.

It’s a tight fit, and Seungcheol grips your hips tight as he painstakingly splits you open, with his mouth parted and eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. Not that you can see. Or have the mental capacity to do anything but grip the pillow and almost suffocate yourself in it with the way you press your open mouth against the material.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he pants when he stops before he’s even buried his entire length in you. “Baby, I don’t–I don’t know if this is a good idea, fuck.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn, turning your head to glare over your shoulder at him while reaching back to grab his ass and stop him from pulling out as he starts to.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then I’ll do it,” you huff and push yourself up onto your hands. Admittedly shaky hands, but you’re too focused on your task to care. Too stubborn and desperate to get obliterated by his cock.

“Babe–”

“Shut the fuck up, Choi Seungcheol,” you demand, pushing yourself back harsh enough that he flails and drops down onto his haunches as he swears, hands still gripping you though. His mouth says one thing and his body another.

It’s a task getting your body upright until you’re on your knees, hands free to hold onto his forearm and thigh, but when you do, you only take a moment to stop the spinning of your mind before you start to bounce on his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, spreading his thighs a little wider, and rolling his hips in time with your bouncing. He’s not thrusting, but his minute movements help to open you up a little more with every slap of your skin against his.

This position isn’t very practical for you, not with Seungcheol. Not when it makes his cock feel even bigger than it actually is, and your entire body trembles as it presses and drags against your walls in ways that feel like utter sin. You’re dripping all over him, ruining the bed, and you don’t even care. Neither does he.

“Your turn,” you murmur, falling still on his lap as you lean back against his chest to catch your breath at least a little, and give your burning thighs a break. It’s a lot more work to ride him like this than you expected. You’ll have to take up a new workout routine so that you can do it for longer next time. You’re determined.

Seungcheol takes the moment of calm stillness to brush his lips over your shoulder and let his hands explore over your chest and spread thighs.

One of his hands trails between your legs to feel at where your pussy is spread around his cock. He makes a low, pleased sound before abruptly rubbing quick, harsh circles over your clit. You shriek in surprise, body tensing at the sudden attack, and nails digging into the skin of his thighs under your own.

“You gotta cum first,” he informs, stopping his circles for only a second to bring his hand back then down, landing a firm slap to your clit, and making your body jerk as you moan brokenly. “That’s my dirty girl, fucking knew you’d like this,” his tone is nothing but aroused and approving as he slaps your clit again, while holding you in place with his other arm wrapped securely around your waist and his hand on your chest. “You’re gonna cum like this, understand?”

“Cheol–”

“I said, do you understand?” Another slap: this one harsher in a toe-curling way, before he drags his palm and fingers over your clit in a way that could be considered almost soothing if he wasn’t pressing as firmly as he is.

“Fuck, y–yeah. Don’t stop,” you agree, nodding where your head is tilted back against his shoulder. “But…”

“What?” You don’t answer verbally and instead grip his left wrist to pull his hand up from your chest and to your throat. “I fucking love you,” he declares, before squeezing your throat at the same time as he sucks on the side of your neck to create a new claim, his right hand moving to slap your clit in rapid succession.

It’s only a few seconds of the combination; the intense pleasure from all ministrations melding together and sending a sharp orgasm through your body. Your body moves naturally as if trying to fight it and get away as you gasp for air you can’t get yet. Your nails drag deep red marks over his skin, which only encourages him to fuck up into your convulsing walls.

“Good, good,” he breathes against your neck, and drops his palm from your throat back to your chest, both so that you can breathe clearly, and so that he can hold you to him. He doesn’t stop playing with your clit though, his hips humping up into you and barely moving his cock, but it’s still almost too much stimulation.

The first orgasm is barely even over before another rocks through your body.

This time, Seungcheol removes his hand from your clit, giving you some respite, and murmurs praise against your shoulder the entire time it takes you to come down from the combination of both climaxes.

“You okay?” he asks gently when you turn your head to blink your eyes open and peer at him. You hum and nod, giving him a dopey, sated smile that makes him laugh. “Can you take more?”

“Whatever you’ve got,” comes your confident response.

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, looking nothing but proud of you and your pussy for being able to handle his thick cock. You’d puff like a peacock if, you know, you weren’t human.

Seungcheol takes a moment to just kiss you, lips and tongue meeting languidly as best as you both can considering the angle. You personally think it works very well, and you’d give you both top marks.

And then, he pushes you down against the mattress, one hand on the back of your neck to keep your cheek smushed against the pillow, and his other hand holding your hip firmly to fuck into you in a brutal manner.

The headboard knocks harshly against the wall with every powerful stroke of his hips. The back of your thighs and ass are already starting to sting with the strength of his thrusts. His fingers bruise marks into your hip and neck as he hold you securely in place and forces you to just fucking take it.

And you’re in heaven.

If you weren’t in love with the man before, you sure as fuck are now.

Nobody has ever fucked you like this. Nobody has handled you so well in every way. And you just know with everything in you, that nobody else ever will. You’re definitely gonna marry the fuck out of Choi Seungcheol.

It doesn’t last much longer really; not that you can really blame Seungcheol considering he sat there and felt your pussy squeeze and cream over his cock twice already. And now he’s battering your walls so perfectly in a way that borders on painful in the most delicious of ways, so you’re squeezing him all over again in minutes, and almost screaming into the pillow as he forces another strong climax from your body.

You don’t even have the mental clarity to realise he’s stopped, his hips juddering against you as he cums as deep in you as possible with a string of low, rough moans with your name sprinkled in.

“Oh, fuck,” you grunt when he lowers your hips to the mattress without pulling out, just so that he can almost flatten you under his own body weight. You know he’s not entirely laid on you; you can feel the bulge of his biceps against your upper arms as he holds himself up just enough to not squish you.

“Shut up; you said you can take anything I give you,” he reminds in between pressing sweet, lingering kisses to your neck.

“Meant your giant cock, not giant ass.”

“You love my giant ass.”

“Mm. So, can I peg you?”

“Can’t we just enjoy the post-sex bliss without you ruining it?”

“No.” You wiggle your ass, making him groan, and then bite your shoulder in retaliation.

“Don’t get me hard again; I’ll pass out if we go again before I sleep.”

“That’s not a problem, unless you squish me, or go soft.”

“Are you implying you’d carry on fucking even if I pass out?”

“What? Because you wimp out, I have to suffer?” You scoff and then wiggle again. “Got a problem with me using your body when you’re unconscious?”

Seungcheol is silent for a moment in thought. “Just don’t stick anything in my ass.”

“Mm, I can accept that. I want you to be awake when I ruin you anyway.”

“I really don’t know what I’ve got myself into with you, do I?”

“Nope.” You grin over your shoulder at him. “You said you’ll marry me; you’re stuck with me forever.”

“I think I’m okay with that.” There’s a smile on his face as he moves off of you so that he can turn you enough to comfortably kiss you in a way that feels something like a promise.

A promise to be okay with your endless depravities. A promise to marry you as soon as possible and buy a house together. A promise to spend the rest of his life loving you; his utterly bat-shit crazy troublemaker.

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Coincidentally, Jungkook’s father shares his birthday with your mother, so ever since your two families got close when you were little, there has always been a shared celebration. When you were little, your two families would trade out hosting a dinner for the two families, but as you grew, the celebrations turned into dinners out at restaurants, and even a week abroad one year. Though this year, it’s just a simple, low-key dinner at the two families’ mutual favourite restaurant.

When the sign for your hometown comes into view, Jungkook speaks up, muttering almost mindlessly, “I really hope they’re not going to do anything weird this time.”

“Like what?” you wonder, utterly clueless to what he could mean by “weird”.

“Don’t you remember last time we went home together?” You give him a quizzical look, which in turn makes him give you a brief look as if you’re crazy upon glancing at you and noticing your clueless expression. “They spent the whole weekend trying to get me to ask you on a date.”

“They were joking,” you respond immediately, scoffing and even rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness of his words. Yet all he needs to do is give you a very specific look for you to straighten up in slight alarm. “Right? It was just a joke.”

“No, it wasn’t a joke,” he replies with a sound that’s a weird mix between a sigh and a soft laugh. “They’ve been trying to set us up since puberty. Have you seriously never noticed?” Jungkook glances at you once more and just cackles at your dumbstruck expression, before he focuses on driving again, and thankfully, the topic is dropped there.

That doesn’t mean you stop thinking about it though.

Even while Jungkook is next door in his childhood home, tucked up in his childhood bed— like you are in yours—, you can’t stop thinking about it. That, apparently, your parents want the two of you to date.

For years now, you’ve always thought that they’re joking every time they say how well suited you are to one another; how well you look after each other while keeping one another in check; how cute your babies would be. In retrospect, that last one probably should’ve thrown up more flags than it did, but your naivety kept stomping them down.

It’s crazy how all it took was for a single look from Jungkook for you to realise the truth in what you thought were harmless jokes from your parents; you know that Jungkook would never lie to you about this.

In fact, the guy has never lied to you since you met as children. He’s always been entirely honest with you, even when you’ve wished he’d lie to protect your heart a little; it’s caused some fights between you, but in the end, he always makes it up and does everything he can to cheer you back up. Every single fight that’s happened between the two of you over the years has always ended fast, and in the same way; with the two of you curled up together, laughing and apologising profusely with tears running down both of your cheeks.

You think it’s probably impossible for you to stay mad at Jungkook, just like he can’t you. Even when he chose his, at the time, new friend Jimin over you only a few weeks into moving to the city and essentially stood you up for your weekly dinner date. Or the time you made sure he never confessed to the girl he liked in school, despite knowing that she liked him back. Similarly, the time when Jungkook told the guy you liked that you were regularly having wild, kinky sex with a married man, just so the guy would stay away from you.

Jungkook has always been, and will always be, the one person you know you’ll always have by your side. He’s your best friend, and you know that nothing can tear you apart.

And it just so happens that it all hits you during the dinner with both of your families present; how everything your parents have said about the two of you is right. You are well suited to one another, and you do look after one another like nobody else could. That when your mothers had teased you about being jealous of Jungkook’s ex, they were right. That when they suggested he broke up with her and dated you instead, a big part of you hoped he would.

Admittedly, you’ve never been immune to Jungkook’s charms, his looks, his dumbass goofy grin whenever he spots you after a week apart. You’ve always known you have feelings for him, but you’ve pushed them down so deep that you kind of tricked yourself into believing that’s just normal; that everyone gets butterflies when their best friend puts their arm around them; that counting down the hours until you see him again, is what everyone does with their best friend, even if it’s only been a day since you last saw one another.

When Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom, you can’t help but watch him go, all these new— and not so new— revelations whirling in your mind, and looking at your relationship from a whole new light.

Dating Jungkook wouldn’t be bad at all, in fact, you think it’d be pretty fucking great. You just need to convince him of that. With that thought in your mind, you excuse yourself only a minute after him and rush to the restroom.

Utterly uncaring that you’re entering the man’s bathroom, you step inside confidently, shamelessly, and call out, “Kook.”

At the urinal with his back to you, Jungkook looks over at the call of his name, and immediately rolls his eyes upon spotting you, before turning his attention back to his business. “You really need to stop doing this.”

“Oh, like I haven’t seen you in more compromising positions,” you scoff, leaning against the sinks with your arms crossed over your chest in wait for him to be done. “I’ve literally had to hold you upright on the toilet while you threw up into a bucket and—”

“Whoa, okay, okay; no need to bring up history’s worst case of food poisoning.”

“Just saying.” You shrug, and watch his back as he zips up, flushes, then approaches the sink at your side to begin washing his hands.

“So, gonna tell me why you’re scaring men from coming in here?” he muses, chuckling a little as he glances at you briefly. “Two men have entered and left upon noticing you standing in here.”

You wave a careless, dismissive hand. “They can wait. I want to give my mother a good birthday gift.”

“You bought her that expensive jacket she’s wanted for years,” he reminds in a slight deadpan. “You saved all fucking year for it. What else could she even ask for?” He scoffs as he moves over to the paper towel dispenser to grab some and dry his hands.

“The thing she’s wanted since we hit puberty.” That makes Jungkook slow his movements until his hands are still, then he turns his head to look at you. You can tell he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

Still, it takes him a moment of staring at you in dumb disbelief before he responds. “Are you suggesting we get together?” You nod, and he cracks up laughing.

“I’m serious, Kook!”

“I know.” You pout at him, crossing your arms a little tighter as you sulk. Jungkook’s expression lifts into a cocky grin; he tosses the tissues into the bin without looking— which is admittedly, both impressive and attractive— before sauntering over to you. “Ask me nicely.”

“What?” you mutter dumbly, arms unfolding to drop to your sides.

“I’m not starting a relationship with you if that’s how you ask.”

“So… You’re agreeing?”

He raises an eyebrow while tilting his head slightly. “I don’t know; I can’t give an answer unless you ask.” He giggles when you whine and drop dramatically forward against his sturdy chest, his hands automatically coming up to hold your arms naturally. “Come on, it’s a simple question.”

“You’re a brat.”

“You want to date me,” he retorts without hesitation, too used to the quick paced verbal banter with you to ever falter.

You sigh. “True.” Determinedly, you straighten up and take his hands into yours— something that is completely normal between you, and even now, it feels nothing but natural despite the meaning changing— while he continues to grin at you, nothing but amused. The moment you put on a sweet smile, he snorts, and your face drops into an offended pout. “Hey!”

“I’m sorry!” He giggles. “You know I can’t take that smile seriously.”

“Fine,” you concede, knowing he’ll just keep laughing in your face if you try and pretend to be sweet any longer. Once you’ve relaxed your expression into a more natural one, he calms himself, then nods to show that he’s ready for you to continue. “Jeon Jungkook—” Immediately, he says your full name in response. “Don’t fucking interrupt!” you scold, nudging his stomach with your still connected hands. The muscle ridden fool doesn’t even sway, just sniggers while biting his lip to control his urge to interrupt you again. “You maybe wanna be my boyfriend?”

“I dunno, you wanna maybe ask it more confidently?” he teases.

“Fuck off, you’re mine now,” you declare firmly, and he doesn’t even try to argue.

Jungkook giggles at your words and lets go of your hands so that he can hold your face in his gentle yet secure touch. “You’re so romantic, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a grin.

Jungkook’s lips curl up into a fond smile as he takes in your cute expression, before he leans in and kisses you softly. “Huh, so that’s what your lips feel like,” he murmurs, sounding pleased, as his fingers gently run through your hair. “I’ve always wondered.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me out?” you ask, confused, yet a bit offended that it took him this long to kiss you.

“Because you never showed interest in me.”

You give him a flat look. “I sabotaged every date you went on, Kook,” you point out in a deadpan tone.

“I thought that was just because I did it to you first.”

“I mean, that was part of it,” you agree with a nod. “And I tried telling myself that was the only reason but, I like you, I’ve always liked you. I’ve just been too much of a wimp to admit it to myself.”

Your confession makes Jungkook’s expression turn unbelievably soft. “I tried to deny it, but I’ve liked you so fucking much for so long now,” he admits, making your smile mirror his, before you tilt to connect your lips in another short, sweet kiss.

As soon as the two of you return to the table with fingers laced together and happy flushes on your cheeks, your parents instantly call the waiter over to order a bottle of champagne to celebrate your new relationship as if they’ve won the lottery. It’s a bit over the top, but neither of you complain; they’re just happy that you’re finally together, and well, so are you.

For the very first time since befriending Jungkook, your parents come into your room to kick him out of the house when it starts to get late.

“Now that you’re together, I can’t let you stay over anymore, Jungkook. I don’t want you to make my little girl rush into anything,” you dad announces. Jungkook nods along and says he understands, while also doing his best not to laugh because only minutes before your parents knocked your bedroom door, you had your hands up Jungkook’s shirt; one playing with his nipple and the other appreciating his abs as you made out, with his own hands kneading and groping your ass.

Of course, you walk Jungkook out and share a very awkward goodnight kiss on the porch while your mother peers excitedly on from the open front door, before you rush back up to your bedroom.

Without thought, as soon as you’ve shut your door securely, you walk over to the window facing the Jeon house and open it wide, grinning at the sight of the large tree standing proud between your window and Jungkook’s.

Less than ten minutes later, a tall, beautifully broad body climbs through the open window. “That was a lot easier four years ago,” Jungkook comments as he focuses on straightening up now that both of his feet are firmly on the carpet. You don’t respond, just continue to lay in wait, draped seductively over your bed wearing nothing but a lacey little lingerie set. As soon as Jungkook lifts his head and finds you, his eyes widen in surprise, then excitement, before he starts to approach, fingers already working on his shirt buttons. “Damn, why didn’t you greet me like this when we were teenagers?”

“Maybe because I was in denial about wanting you to fuck me then.”

“Well, shit, okay, damn girl,” he replies in a playful tone that makes you laugh. He kicks off his shoes once he’s standing beside your bed, and motions for you to get closer. With a grin, you roll over onto your stomach and lift your hips slowly, giving him a little show as your wiggle your hips in the air enticingly. “Fuck, baby, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this side from me all these years.”

“This is only for you,” you assure, making him groan, pleased by the words.

Without warning, he reaches out and spanks the soft flesh of your ass, causing you to yelp in surprise. “Stop teasing me and get that pretty little ass over here.” Obligingly, you lift up onto your hands and knees to crawl over to him, stopping directly in front of him and straightening up onto your knees. “Fuck,” he hisses as he takes in your barely covered body from only inches away, so close that your lace covered breasts are almost touching his chest. “You look so fucking good, baby,” he says, voice thick and low as he drops his hands from his shirt buttons to instead grab your ass in both hands and pull your body flush against his. “Can you feel how hard you’ve made me already?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum in confirmation, and grind your hips forward against the bulge growing rapidly in Jungkook’s trousers. He moans lowly, then crashes his lips hungrily to yours. Your fingers knot in his hair, tugging the strands gently, earning another low moan to rumble in Jungkook’s throat.

When your breath runs short, you pull away to lower yourself down. Jungkook’s dark gaze follows your movement, watching intently as you finish unbuttoning his shirt and push it off his body. Your hands rove over his bare torso, appreciating the time and care he takes to keep his body so deliciously defined. Your lips trace the lines of his abs, and he lets out a soft breath, fingers running through your hair.

Slowly, you trail your mouth up his body to find his nipple. Jungkook blinks in anticipation, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. He’s never had someone play with his nipples before, not until you did earlier, so he hadn’t been aware that he likes it, but now he is and he really hopes you’ll continue to awaken new feelings of pleasure for him.

Noticing his reaction, an amused smirk tilts your lips; Jungkook swallows thickly, getting the feeling that you’re going to take full advantage of the discovery that he enjoys his nipples being toyed with— and he really isn’t against you doing that in any way—, and then your lips suddenly wrap around his right nipple and suck, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Shit,” he finally manages to get out after a few breathless seconds, short nails dragging over your scalp slightly as your hand lifts to play with his neglected nipple. “Shit, no wonder girls like this,” he babbles, making you giggle, before you flick your tongue out suddenly, making him jolt. “Again, baby; again, please.” Really, who could refuse such cute, soft, yet desperate pleading, so you do as request and repeat the action; flick your tongue against his nipple, increasing the pace until he tips his head back and moans roughly, making you pull away.

“Shh, Jungkookie,” you scold gently and flick his wet nipple with your finger, making him let out a choked noise. “You don’t want to be interrupted, do you?” He whines and shakes his head, looking pained at the thought “Be quiet then.”

“Sorry,” he almost whispers, and you nod in approval before returning to your task of worshipping his body, as it deserves. You take your time to roam your mouth over his torso, alternating between kissing, licking, biting, and sucking at his skin until you’ve made a trail of bruised affection all the way to the waistband of his trousers, leaving him breathing heavily above you. “Baby, please,” he pleads when you stop and look up at him.

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“Where?” He ruts his hips forward pointedly, almost colliding his crotch with your face, but luckily you move slightly aside, and he stops his half thrust in time. “Use your words, baby,” you encourage, even as you work on flicking open the button on his trousers and slowly pull down the zipper.

“My dick. Fuck, touch my dick.”

“Hm?”

“Please,” he whines needily, and you chuckle, pleased. “Look what you reduce me to; a whiny, needy guy.”

“Hmm, my little bitch,” you confirm; Jungkook whines in complaint at the term yet doesn’t argue. “Are you my little bitch, Jungkookie?”

“Can I cum if I say yes?”

“You think I’ll not allow you pleasure if you refuse to be my bitch?” you muse, and he just gives you a flat look that lets you know that he knows that he knows you well enough by now. “Boy, you right,” you confirm, making him scoff, though it quickly turns into a chuckle.

“If I get to cum by the end of the night, you can call me whatever you want, princess,” he bargains.

“Okay, pumpkin.” He locks a heatless glare on you, and you giggle again. Before he can argue further, you quickly push down his trousers and boxers in one go, freeing his erection; it pops up and hits your jaw. Jungkook’s eyes bulge in alarmed shock, feeling like his own body has betrayed him by attacking you; he wants to apologise, but the blank look on your face keeps him still and quiet. Slowly, you let go of his clothing and leave it around his knees, to glare at his dick staring you in the face. “If you do that again, you and I are going to have a problem,” you warn in a grumble, and Jungkook snorts out a laugh.

“Are you seriously talking to my di–” he chokes on his words when you abruptly lean forward and eagerly take his erection into your mouth.

A loud moan leaves his lips when he feels his tip hit your throat, while your tongue curls and laps around his length.

Immediately, you pull off to look up at him amusedly. “I think I need to gag you,” you tease, shuffling backwards on the bed. Jungkook watches you with a pout, wishing you’re still sucking his throbbing cock and not moving further away from it. “Come on then,” you encourage, patting the bed invitingly. Jungkook wastes no time in throwing off the rest of his clothes to scramble up onto the bed. “On your back, baby.”

For a few seconds, Jungkook hesitates to do as told, purely because he wants to be on top; but then he remembers that you’re in a relationship now, and this isn’t going to be your only sexual encounter. He’ll have plenty of chances to fuck you into the mattress. With that thought in mind, he flops onto his back and gets comfortable with his head on the pillow. Once he’s settled, you crawl between his thighs and bend down to take him back into your mouth, instantly earning a moan. You try to ignore it, but then he starts to talk.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Your mouth is so perfect. Fuck, that’s it, suck my dick,” he croons, half babbling as you skilfully work his length. Though the moment you pull off with a sigh and climb off of the bed, he thrashes slightly in frustration. “No come back, I’m sorry. I won’t say those things anymore if you don’t like it, just come back,” he begs, making grabby hands at you, big pleading eyes locked on your face.

“Shup up, I already told you to be quiet tonight,” you remind firmly. “Clearly, you have no control over your voice box, and I’ll have to make you shut up.”

Jungkook’s body tingles with slight fear; he has no idea what you’re about to do. Admittedly though, there’s also a fair amount of fizzing arousal and he realises he’s kind of into being a little scared and at your mercy during sex.

As you start to slide your underwear down your thighs, his tongue darts out to hungrily lick his lips. “Are you going to sit on my face?” he groans lowly, beyond turned on by the thought; his dick twitches at the thought of having his face buried between your lovely thighs. You shake your head, and he whines. “But I want to taste you.”

“Another day, I don’t have the patience for that much foreplay tonight, baby,” you reply as you climb back onto the bed and straddle his waist.

Jungkook moans low and rough at the feel of your wet pussy pressing against the bare skin of his stomach. “Can I fuck you raw?”

“Do you have anything contagious?”

“You know I don’t; you would’ve been the first to know if I have an STD,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “And I know you don’t have anything either, and you’re on the pill.”

“Hmm, okay,” you agree, and he lights up with excitement at the news that he doesn’t have to wear a condom.

“Are you going to sit on my dick, huh, baby? You gonna ride me until you cum? Gonna fuck yourself on my cock?”

You have to admit, you’re loving his dirty words; each syllable in his rumbling voice sets another wave of arousal in your stomach, and you’re certain you’re dripping all over his abs by now. However, he’s being far too loud.

“Fuck, I really need to do this, huh?” you realise with a defeated sigh, and Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. “Open your mouth,” you say, a light demand, and he gives you a wary look in response. “Do it, or you can’t fuck me tonight.” Instantly, his mouth opens. “Good boy,” you coo, smiling sweetly at him as you lift your right hand with your underwear balled within. Jungkook’s eyes widen in alarm when you push the lacy material past his parted lips. “Is that okay?” you check, voice turning softer now, more gentle and cautious, just in case he’s not comfortable with this.

Jungkook wiggles his jaw a little, trying to figure out if he’s opposed to having your panties in his mouth. When his tongue finds the damp seat where he can get the faintest taste of your arousal staining the material, he knows he’s definitely okay with it. Though, he’s shy when he nods to admit this to you.

“Good.” You giggle happily before taking his face into your hands to lean down and press a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “You look so cute with my panties in your mouth, babyboy.” Your lips trail kisses down his jaw and neck, stopping to leave a few marks on his upper chest and collarbones until you shuffle your body further down to sit up on his upper thighs.

Jungkook’s hands move to hold your hips and lift you slightly so that he can wriggle a few inches until his dick is pressing lengthways along your dripping pussy. He loosens his grasp to let you take over, grinding along his erection at your own pace. A grumbled moan breaks from his chest at the wet friction, but it’s muffled due to the material in his mouth.

“That’s better,” you approve, before leaning up onto your knees to give you space to reach between your thighs and slide two fingers past your waiting entrance while Jungkook watches with wide, entranced eyes. “You’re made me so wet,” you whisper, eyes closing as you fuck yourself open on your two fingers.

A gasp leaves your lips when Jungkook’s index finger of his right hand joins your fingers inside you, wiggling inside curiously, then working in opposition to your own movement to open you up. The difference makes a soft whimper leave your lips.

“I could cum like this,” you confess quietly, fluttering your eyes open to look down at your boyfriend and pierce him with your dark gaze. He shakes his head. “No?” 

Instead of even trying to respond, he pulls his finger out and instead, you feel a different kind of pressure nudging against your entrance. You look down to see him holding his erection up, ready to enter you. With no reason, nor wish, to wait any longer, you slip your fingers out of you to instead slide down his hard cock. Jungkook grips your hips tight as he fights the urge to fuck up into your slick warmth.

Grinding and rolling your hips, you make your way down his thick length until you’re sitting flush against him. Jungkook’s chest is heaving by the time you’re seated, and his fingers are digging so hard into you that you know bruises will be left— not that you care—; he looks as if he’s trying his damndest to calm himself with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

With an amused, lazy grin, you lean over him to press your hands either side of his shoulders. “Gonna bust already?” you tease. Jungkook’s eyes blink open, and he looks at you with cheeks flushed a deep, embarrassed pink, but he doesn’t deny it or prevent the slight nod that moves his head. You giggle and press a kiss to his parted lips. “Even if you do, I’m going to keep bouncing on your cock until I’m satisfied,” you warn, purposely clenching your walls around him; making his hips jerk at the sudden pleasurable tightening, as he moans brokenly. “Ah, who knew you’d be so much fun to play with.”

Despite your words, you decide to give him time to calm; you keep your hips still and remove your panties from his mouth so that you can kiss him without the obstacle in the way. A breath of relief leaves Jungkook’s chest, understanding that you’re giving him time; he’s really glad you are, because he just knows he’d cum too fast otherwise.

You both get too lost in the kiss, too absorbed in the way your tongues slide together, the way teeth nip teasingly at lips, that you almost entirely forget that his dick is nestled all secure and warm within you. At least until he adjusts slightly under you, and his cock rolls within you, making you both moan into one another’s mouth at the sudden friction.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling back to straighten up on his hips and place your palms flat on his chest.

“Take your bra off,” he demands, practically glaring at the piece of clothing still hiding you from his view. Honestly, you had entirely forgotten about it, too caught up in Jungkook, so the reminder prompts you to quickly unclasp it and toss it carelessly to the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, awed, running his hands over your body in soft reverence.

“So are you.”

Jungkook’s gaze lifts from admiring your newly exposed breasts, to meet your eyes, and he smiles. “C’mere and kiss me.” Well, you’ll never say no to that, and swiftly lean down to lock your lips back together.

Though, this time, you remember the situation you’re in and start to lift and lower your hips. Jungkook moans lowly and grabs a hold of your ass to help you move, encouraging your motions as his lifts his hips in time. Yet, even though his cock is dragging slowly along your walls, pressing into all the right spots and his tip hits deep enough to make your toes curl, it isn’t quite what you really want right now.

As you push your body up to sight upright on his hips, Jungkook watches with heady, lidded eyes so dark with lust that your stomach turns with arousal. He lets you move however you want, stopping his own movement as you lift, then suddenly drop back down. A deep moan vibrates through Jungkook’s chest and out of his mouth, and you immediately fall still before you can even bounce again.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, a little frustrated, and pick up your underwear to stuff them non-too-gently into his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, even opens his mouth wide when he sees you pick up the lace. “You like having my panties in your mouth, baby?” you coo tauntingly, placing your hands on his stomach for leverage before you start to bounce in rapid enthusiasm. Jungkook grunts, head tipping back on the pillow as his eyes roll to a shut, yet he still nods. “Can you taste me?” you wonder, already getting breathless with the pleasure assaulting your nerves. He nods again, and you notice his throat bob thickly as he swallows hard before tilting his head back down to watch you.

All it takes it one second of heated eye contact for you to give up teasing him and focus on riding him, adjusting your position and motions until you have the perfect angle to hit that extra sensitive spot within you that has you gasping and seeing stars.

Jungkook is utterly mesmerised as he watches you ride him; he’s positive he’s never seen such a beautiful sight. Your expression is scrunched in a mix of concentration and pleasure as you focus on brining yourself to orgasm. When he realises that, Jungkook quickly moves to help, sliding his right hand off your hip to between your thighs so that he can press his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk in surprise at the unexpected touch, but you quickly get back into rhythm with a little whimper, hips moving more desperately to reach your climax.

Obligingly, and perhaps even more desperate than you are, Jungkook makes sure to keep pace with you, still letting you lead while moving his hips in tandem to grind up into you as his thumb rolls over your clit.

Strangely enough, it’s a broken little moan, meeting your ears muffled by the fabric he’s still obediently keeping in his mouth, that hits you right in the lower stomach, makes your walls clench quickly, and throws you into an intense orgasm that blindsides you with how abrupt and strong it is.

Somehow, Jungkook fights back his own orgasm as he watches your body shake on top of him with the intense pleasure surging through your body, walls fluttering and pulsating around his throbbing cock. His thumb continues to work your clit until you grip his wrist and tug his hand away before he can overstimulate you.

Bravely, Jungkook removes your panties from his mouth and watches you in slack-jawed awe as your body slowly stills on top of him. He waits for you to calm and catch your breath before he pulls you down into a passionate kiss.

“You look so fucking beautiful cumming on my dick like that, baby,” he whispers, grunting when you unintentionally clench around you. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with my cum,” he murmurs mindlessly as his left arm wraps around your waist, his right-hand tangles in your hair, and his feet plant on the bed to give him leverage to begin to fuck up into you, desperate and harsh. A whine-like moan leaves your lips as his cock pummels through your sensitive, fresh-from-a-powerful-orgasm, walls.

“Fuck, Kook,” you moan, letting him lift you slightly so that he can attach his lips to your breasts; your back arches to press your chest closer to his face, unintentionally allowing him a slightly different angle to fuck into you that makes him moan loudly against your skin. Instantly, you push yourself up onto you palms to look down at him disapprovingly.

Jungkook looks back up at you apologetic, yet so desperate and unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you, eyes darting between your bouncing tits and face. He wants to cum so much, in fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to cum so much in his life, but he also knows that he’s being too loud.

Suddenly, an idea pops into your head. “Do–do you trust me?” you pant you, letting your right palm run over his chest. He nods without hesitation, even if he looks puzzled about why you’ve asked such a question while he’s balls deep inside you. “Stop me at any time.”

His hips slow as he watches your expression turn more serious; hesitance dances in your eyes, appearing over the darkness of the lust swimming there. He’s utterly confused, but very intrigued by whatever you’re planning. Slowly, your hand slides up to wrap loosely around his throat, and he understands. He swallows thickly under your palm, and his cock twitches against your walls.

“Is this okay?” you check. He nods hesitantly, uncertain if he’ll be okay with you actually tightening your hold, but he’s willing to at least try it and find out. “Fuck me, Kook,” you encourage, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Jungkook nods and his hips snap up into you, return to his borderline animalistic fucking.

As soon as Jungkook moans too loud, your grip on this throat tightens slightly to cut him off. He sputters in surprise, so you pull your hand back.

“Sorry.”

“No–no,” he replies, blushing, and glances aside shyly quickly, before locking his gaze on yours. “Again.” Your eyebrows lift in surprise, but you return your hand to his throat.

The next time, you spot the incoming moan before he has a chance to vocalise it and tighten your grip. You’re surprised that in response, he suddenly fucks into you harder, forcing your body to jolt harshly with the strength he’s now using. You clamp around his dick, and then his throat when you see his eyes roll back and mouth drop open wider.

The sound of skin slapping wetly against skin echoes loudly in the room, and you don’t give a single fuck if it’s audible from another room; the knot in your stomach is suddenly back with a tight vengeance, and you want to cum too.

Your grip loosens just long enough to let Jungkook catch his breath, but his movements slow a little, and you don’t like that. The second you decide he has enough air in his lungs, your fingers curl and his hips return to their fast movement, hitting against you hard enough that you know your thighs will be sore tomorrow, if not into the next day too. You’re kind of looking forward to it.

“Fuck, baby,” you whine, balling your left hand into the sheets by his shoulder as you fight to keep your eyes open to watch his blissed expression for the first sign that you need to ease up on his throat. “I…so close,” you mumble. Once again, Jungkook’s hand dives between your thighs to rub his thumb against your clit; the urgency and clumsiness of his movements tells you that he’s so close to his own orgasm but wants you to finish first.

You loosen your grip on this throat for a moment, only allowing him to suck in a few breaths before closing on his throat once again, though with more pressure than you’ve used so far. Jungkook chokes, yet as soon as you try to move your hand away, he pushes his throat back against your palm so that you can choke him again.

You find his desperation to be choked more arousing than you thought you’ve ever find such an action, and it sets the knot to explode in your lower stomach, sending you writhing and trembling over him once again.

The feeling of your walls clamping around his leaking cock for a second time is too much for him to fight, and Jungkook’s orgasm hits him so hard he curls up harder into your palm without meaning to or even noticing. Luckily, you do, even in your blissed out, foggy minded state, and you quickly move your hand away to plant on the mattress as your body sags, only moving thanks to Jungkook’s hips still mindlessly rutting against you to milk out his orgasm.

Slowly, you both come down from your highs, and he pulls you down onto his sweat-slick chest. Usually, you’d complain about him touching you when he’s sweaty, but you’re just as bad right now, so you don’t care and contently curl up against him.

When your body stops shuddering after a handful of minutes, you try to move off of him, but he whines and holds you tighter. “Don’t move,” he whispers against your head. “Let me hold you.”

“I can feel your cum leaking out around your deflating dick,” you grumble, and he snorts a very unattractive laugh at your words. You still think he’s absurdly attractive though.

“That’s a lovely mental image,” he retorts before suddenly flipping you both over, and pulls out of you.

You watch in confusion as he shuffles down your body and settles on his elbows between your spread thighs. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Fuck, that’s my cum,” he murmurs awed, reaching out to scoop up the cum trickling from your entrance, to push it back inside. “Keep that where it belongs.”

“Where it belongs?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“My cum belongs in you, baby.” He looks up at you with a grin, making you laugh. “So, you’re a lot kinkier than I thought,” he comments with a smirk as he crawls up your body, pressing gentle kisses over every patch of skin he passes until he’s hovering over you with his forearms either side of your head, caging you in. “Stuffing your panties in my mouth?” You shrug. “Choking me?”

“You clearly liked that. A lot.”

“I did,” he confirms, licking his lips, before his gaze travels down to your bare throat with hungry burning dark in his eyes, and making your stomach fizz with anticipation. “But I think that next time, I should choke you, princess.”

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Which, well, is kind of accurate, because it’s Hansol’s dad’s coat. Chan had fallen in a mud patch last night when the pair stumbled back after a night out drinking with their friends, and Hansol’s parents have always treated Chan like a second son and happily dote on him, so lending him a clean, cosy coat wasn’t even debated.

But the point is, it’s the middle of winter, Chan is fucking freezing, and Hansol has made him join him in the field to meet the new vet, who will apparently be overseeing the ewes through lambing season— not that Chan knows what that means. And Chan has no interest in this, but Hansol is persuasive in the way he stares without blinking until his opponent relents, and it freaks the fuck out of Chan, so he always relents.

“Are you sure I can’t curl up in the middle of them? They look so warm,” Chan bemoans, looking longingly at the huddle of sheep a little bit away from them, practically able to see steam rising from their fluffy bodies in the chilly air.

“Very positive that you cannot curl up amongst pregnant ewes, Chan,” Hansol confirms flatly, eyes on the near distance where a car is driving along the dirt tracks of the Choi farm towards the field they’re standing at the edge of.

“Ewe means lady sheep, right?” Chan checks, and Hansol gives him a flat look in response, before snorting a laugh, then looks away. “What?”

“Would I say they’re pregnant if they were gentlemen sheep?”

“I…I think I’m too hungover.”

“Nah, you’re always a dumbass,” Hansol retorts teasingly, then pushes off of the fence to approach one of the farm dogs who has something in his mouth that Hansol needs to chase him for the next few minutes to get out— turns out, it was a lump of mud; at least, Chan hopes it was mud.

“Hey, you’re new,” the voice behind Chan makes him turn, and instantly, his expression slides into something awed, because standing a little on the other side of the fence is the most beautiful being he’s ever laid eyes on. In response, Chan lets out something that sounds vaguely like something died painfully in his throat.

“Hey, doc!” Hansol calls out, and Chan watches entranced as this ethereal entity before him waves back with a smile that makes Chan suddenly love the farm.

“I think your new farm boy isn’t awake yet,” you muse as you approach to lean on the fence a little to Chan’s left, and he turns towards you like a flower to the sun. Or a suddenly-in-love man towards the woman of his dreams.

“No farm boy, he hates the farm, but he’s my best friend so he doesn’t have a choice,” Hansol informs with a grin.

“I love farm. Love sheep. Lady sheep. Ewes,” Chan babbles, wide eyes glued to you. You give him a look, a little concerned, but mostly amused, then slide your eyes to Hansol, and give the farmer a questioning look.

“Yeah, we don’t know what’s wrong with him either.”

“Sheep,” Chan whispers, and you give him a look, giggle— and he maybe lets out a little almost pained whimper in response—, before you effortlessly clamber over the fence to join Hansol in approaching the sheep.

Chan, of course, waddles around in a circle as you pass him so that he can keep his attention on you. He has no idea what you’re doing as you kneel beside the first pregnant lady sheep— ewe— with your bag of equipment to do…stuff, but he thinks it’s probably the most important and skilful thing ever, and nobody can ever do it better than you.

Suddenly, Chan doesn’t feel the cold, not when your smile and soft tone as you speak to the sheep warms him up from his very soul. Chan’s pretty convinced he could be standing there butt naked and feel warm under your smile. Then, he thinks that you’d probably not be smiling if a stranger was standing in front of you naked in a field of sheep in the middle of winter. He also thinks he wouldn’t be smiling as he imagines the sheep trying to nibble on something else instead of the coat protecting him from the cold, and he shudders at the thought, winces, and subconsciously puts his hands over his crotch.

“Dude, you better not be getting hard because a pretty lady smiled at you,” Hansol’s voice suddenly warns in a hiss in Chan’s ear, making him jump and look at his best friend in shock, having not noticed him approach.

“Do sheep bite genitals?” Chan whispers, horrified at the thought. Hansol gives him an incredulous look, before walking confidently back over to you in a way that Chan wishes he could, but he knows the damn coat makes him waddle like a particularly plump penguin. He doesn’t want you to think of him as a particularly plump penguin, he doesn’t want you to think of him as a penguin at all, plump or buff. He wants you to think of him as a handsome, suave young man who you would happily take home to introduce to your parents as your handsome, suave husband. Okay, boyfriend first, husband later.

Far too soon— at least in Chan’s mind—, you get up, shoulder your bag, and walk side by side with Hansol towards the gate a little further down the fence. Before he knows it, you’re getting into your Jeep— at least, Chan assumes it’s a Jeep, he doesn’t know anything about cars, nor is he paying enough attention to anything but you to notice the brand name—, sharing another laugh and quick verbal exchange with Hansol, giving Chan a polite wave, and then driving off. Chan lifts his arm so fast that he smacks himself in the face, but you’re already gone because he was too stunned by your sudden attention on him to even register it until it was over. He’s kind of glad of that because it means you didn’t see his embarrassing action.

Unfortunately, Hansol saw, and he’s leaning over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes with laughter. “Dude!” he cackles. “What the fuck is wrong with you today?” he asks, barely able to straighten up to look at his best friend as he continue to laugh so hard Chan thinks he might start choking any second.

“Nothing. I’m normal. Totally normal about everything and everyone I’ve seen today,” Chan replies before abruptly crossing the grass between them to grab Hansol’s face and lock his wide, unsettling gaze on the suddenly no longer laughing man. “How do I become a vet assistant? Specifically hers?”

Hansol pulls a face, then laughs again and nudges Chan away. “You’re hopeless, man.”

“I’d be a good vet’s assistant to her! I’d do anything she asks!”

“Pretty sure that’s called being a simp.”

“Well…if it works.”

“I can’t believe you’re obsessed with someone you didn’t say a coherent sentence to,” Hansol deadpans as he heads out of the field, and Chan scrambles to follow— making sure to shut the gate securely behind them and the dogs, he’s not entirely useless with farm stuff, you know.

“Shit, you’re right,” Chan mutters. Hansol looks at him as if he expects Chan to chill out and be normal about you, at least he does until the shorter man opens his mouth again. “Do you think if I hide for a couple months and you pretend I don’t exist and she imagined me today, that she’ll forget about me and I can come back and start fresh?”

“Dude, no!” He even shoves his friend into a bush for added effect; it works, Chan gets the point.

“Okay, no gaslighting, you’re right,” Chan concedes as he pulls himself out of the bush as if nothing happened. “I could never keep away from my future wife from that long anyway, and I definitely don’t want her to forget about me.”

“You don’t even know her name.”

That gives Chan pause, quite literally. He stops on the grass and Hansol continues on obliviously towards the house. Or more likely, Hansol knows that his best friend is no longer actively following him and is enjoying the moment of calm while he has it.

It’s a few minutes before Chan has caught up with Hansol where he’s waiting on the back porch, dogs all shuffling around his feet and the door as they wait to be let back inside. But Hansol knows his mother hates the winter air and feels it so much easier than most people, so he doesn’t want the door to open more than necessary so that there’s less cold being let in to attack his mother.

“What’s her name?” Chan asks as soon as he’s clambered up the few wooden steps. Hansol just rolls his eyes, and now finally opens the door to let the dogs dart in first, then follows with Chan at the back. Automatically, once the door is shut, Chan nudges the draft excluder back into place along the bottom of it, also aware of Hansol’s mother’s weakness for the chill, and not wanting to make his pseudo-mother face it without reason.  

The pair are removing their shoes when the woman herself shuffles into the entrance hall. “How’re the ewes?” she checks. Hansol just gives a thumbs up, but that’s all she needs anyway. “Oh, Channie, what happened to you?” She frowns as she frets over the leaves and tiny twigs in his hair and dotted over the long coat.

“Sol pushed me into a bush,” Chan answers, then grins smugly when Hansol’s mother turns to scold her son, who glares harmlessly at his best friend before toddling off to the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of fresh, spicy food sure to warm him up. “Hey, you know the new vet?” Chan checks as the woman helps him out of the coat, picking off the bush debris as she goes.

“Mm, she’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“The loveliest,” Chan enthuses, head bobbing with his thorough agreement, and the woman smiles at him in an amused, knowing way that Chan doesn’t even notice. “I didn’t catch her name.”

“Oh, no?” She grins, hanging up the coat before turning and following her son’s path into the kitchen. Chan follows her little a lost little duckling. “You didn’t catch the good doctor’s name, love?”

“No,” Chan complains, dropping into his usual space at the breakfast table with a pout. “Will you tell it to me? Sol’s being a butthead.”

“You’re 25 years old and you just said butthead,” Hansol’s father comments from his own place. “Call him an asshole, Chan, go on.” Which earns the man a light slap to the back of his head from his wife, but he’s grinning, and Hansol is grinning, and Chan can’t help but join in.

“Don’t encourage bad habits, mister!” the woman exclaims.

“Ah, but you used to love my bad habits, my beautiful wife,” he coos, hooking one arm around her waist as she passes, to pull her in while giving her a sleazy look.

“Seriously, dad?” Hansol complains. “I’m trying to eat, don’t bring up your youth together, it’s gross.”

“Excuse you! We were hot shit in our youth, even hotter together!”

“Disgusting,” Hansol comments, not even pretending that he’s not grinning amusedly, before he puts a spoonful of warming, spicy soup into his mouth, makes a pleased sound, then tuckers in, closing out the rest of the world around him.

Having known Hansol for his entire life, the three know he will be a useless conversationalist until he’s finished his bowlful— and probably a second, maybe even third— and naturally turn away from him to continue talking without him.

“I’ve seen photos of you both when you were young,” Chan comments, nodding along. “I think you were both hot shit for sure.”

“Thank you, Chan,” Hansol’s father replies, and reaches over to approvingly pat Chan’s arm. “Knew we kept you around for a reason.”

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” Chan grins, then abruptly turns serious. “But seeing as you both love me so much and consider me your baby boy—”

“We do?”

“Yes, dad,” Chan confirms, and the couple just smile, amused and fond of their pseudo-son and his weird, shameless personality.

“Okay, son, what of it?”

“You’ll tell me the name of the new vet, right?”

The couple share a look before Hansol’s dad nods and tells Chan your full name. Immediately, Chan lets out a dreamy sigh and props his head on his palm, elbow already braced on the table. He thinks it’s the most perfect name to have ever existed, and he can’t wait to spend the rest of his life saying it.

It’s a week before Chan sees you again, purely because every time he’s tried to oh so casually enter the vets and cross paths with you, he quickly realises that you’re out at another farm being competent and beautiful where he can’t admire you; a great shame, really.

Still, he’s persistent and has far too much time on his hands outside of his own working hours, so he keeps trying until he peers in through the glass wall at the front of the building, and spots you standing on the other side of the reception desk, looking at a file.

Without hesitation, Chan quickly scuttles to the door and enters the building, doing his best to be cool and confident. And it works, he genuinely looks very suave and put together, at least until you lift your head upon hearing someone approach, and he almost trips on his own foot the moment your eyes meet his.

He’s too busy flailing his arms out to catch himself on the desk and straighten up to notice the way you smile in amusement and something that looks an awful lot like you think he’s cute in his foolishness.

“Good evening, how can I help you?” you greet, leaning onto the high desk on your elbows only a few feet from Chan.

He squeaks when he realises how close you are, and jumps back, hands rapidly straightening out his coat— his own this time, and actually suited to his body, not drowning him. “Hi–hi.”

“Hi.” You grin.

“I uhm, I’m Chan!”

“Mm, I know; we met at the Choi farm last week. Hansol introduced us, but you were mumbling about lady sheep.”

“Ewes! Lady sheep are called ewes! I know animal stuff!” he insists, sounding like a child trying to convince an adult that they have knowledge they don’t really have.

“They are, well done, Chan,” you approve, and Chan positively beams, straightening up proudly. “Did you come in to introduce yourself?”

“No, no, I would like to volunteer.”

“Here?” you check, leaning up to stand straight, his eyes following you as if he can’t bear to miss a single moment. It’s all very obvious, and honestly, you think it’s adorable.

“Yes, here. With you.”

“With me? I specialise in farm animals, so I’m not here a lot,” you inform.

“I love farms.”

“Right.” You snigger and move over to the filing cabinet to grab a form, then return to hand it to him. “Here, fill this out.”

Chan nods and moves forward to take a pen from the pot a little to his left, and diligently fill out the volunteer registration form, while you return to looking at your files. Or, at least, you try to look at your files, but you’re honestly very intrigued by the man; and yes, he’s very attractive and you’re not blind to that, or his clear interest in you.

Admittedly, you wouldn’t be against going on a date with Chan to get to know him, there’s something so endearing about him— and once again, he’s very visibly pleasing, so that’s always a happy bonus. However, he flusters so easily that you think it’d be so entertaining to watch him flounder around you for a while until he gains the courage to ask you on a date himself.

Plus, you could do with a helper, and you know he’s only pretending to care about animals to be near you, so you think it’s only fair you take advantage of that and put him to good use while you can.

“There, all done,” he announces a few minutes later, lifting his head and shyly offering you the completed form, which you immediately look over just to make sure that he’s suitable for the role, at least on paper. He doesn’t seem to have any medical issues that could cause a problem, and he’s stated he has a lot of hours to put towards volunteering, so he definitely seems to be a good fit.

“What are you willing to do exactly? There are a lot of misconceptions that people come in with when they want to volunteer; they think they’ll essentially get to just play with cute puppies and kittens that come in for treatment, and they fail to consider all the shit they’ll have to handle. Often, literal shit. Especially if you’re with me and the farm animals; I don’t think I need to tell you that you will step in shit on a farm, even if you try to avoid it.”

“I know. I grew up with Hansol; his parents are my second parents, so I was sort of raised on the farm too,” he assures, nodding. Which is the truth, technically. Chan did spend a lot of time at the Choi farm growing up, and still does, but mostly in the house or orchard around back, not with the animals so much. And he certainly doesn’t know how to look after them in any way, but he doesn’t think you’d be reckless enough to leave him to look after animals, so he’s not worried about that.

“Have you tended to the animals there?”

“No,” he admits a little sheepishly. “But I’m willing to learn and do whatever you want me to.”

“Whatever I want you too, huh?” you repeat, lips turning up a little.

Chan blinks at you, lips parted slightly due to the sudden, seductive expression that makes him feel a little like he’s been dipped in a pool of warm, melted wax. Fuck, he hopes you’re into wax play because he suddenly is really into it, even if he’s never participated or been interested before. He thinks he’d probably try everything at least once if you asked.

It’s only a second that the smirk lives on your lips before it melts away as if it was never there, and Chan briefly wonders if he imagined it and the insinuation, before he gathers his brain back up and nods.

“Good to know. When can you start?”

“Now. Right now. I have nothing to do.”

“Nobody waiting for you at home?” you wonder, moving to grab your coat from where you earlier put it on the back of a chair, knowing you’d need it again soon.

“I’m single!” he blurts. “Very, very single.” You just giggle amusedly and tuck the files and his form into the cabinet before locking it up, grabbing your bag, and circling the desk to hold it out to him. Chan takes it without question, big, round eyes locked on you from only a few feet away.

“Come on, I’ve got a patient to visit,” you inform and head out of the building.

Chan lets out an excited gasp as he realises that you’ve agreed to spend time with him— he pointedly doesn’t focus on the fact that it’s for work, not personal reasons— and scrambles after you with a grin, determined to be the best assistant ever so that you’ll fall hopelessly in love with him and let him remain by your side until the world stops spinning.

As it turns out, Chan is a very competent helper, as long as you don’t watch him for too long because then he gets flustered and forgets how to function like a normal human being. Other than his mishaps, he’s actually pretty proud of himself for doing such a good job. Sometimes, he’s even so focused on the work that he forgets that he stepped into the vets that day with the sole purpose of being near you.

Though, even with his original plan often being forgotten, it still works in his favour, and the two of you spend so much time together that friendship soon blooms.

When Chan’s not flustering or just staring at you dumbly as if he can’t believe you’re real, he’s actually very naturally charming and friendly, and very skilled at making you laugh. The first time he made you properly laugh, he mentally declared your laughter to be one of the great wonders of the world, and that he’ll do what he can to earn it at every chance. Which is something he achieves almost effortlessly. He thinks that when the two of you aren’t focused on work, you’re both laughing away together and chatting happily as if you’ve known one another for years, not just a month.

It gets to the point that, although he is still utterly enamoured with you and would love to hold your hand and kiss your pretty face, he is more than happy to just spend time with you, making you laugh, and seeing you smile as you tend to patients with nothing but love and care in your touch and eyes.

Even when the two of you start to hang out outside of working hours, it’s nothing but platonic, nothing he wouldn’t do with Hansol because Chan truly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or risk losing your friendship. He’d rather be at your side like this than not at all, and he has no intention of even trying to change anything, despite what his friends say.

“So, how’s the woman of your dreams doing?” Seungkwan asks, fiddling with Hansol’s hair where it pokes out from his beanie, and Hansol just lets him, long ago used to Seungkwan’s fussing.

“Dreamy,” Chan replies, sighing happily as he slumps forward over the table at their usual bar, leaning his chin on one palm as his other hand mindlessly traces patterns into the condensation on his glass of coke. Usually, he’d be drinking some kind of alcoholic beverage, but he knows that you’ve gone out with some friends tonight, and he told you that you can call him if you need a ride, no matter how late, so he’s refraining from drinking tonight all for you.

“Right,” Seungkwan replies with a snigger, then turns, done fussing with Hansol, yet doesn’t move away and Chan isn’t so caught up in his own pining to not notice that the pair are even closer than normal. Which says something, because Chan thinks the two are almost attached at the hip when the three of them hang out.

“What’s going on?” Chan asks as he straightens up, giving the pair a suspicious look. Hansol, for his part, doesn’t really react, just continues looking over at Chan as he sips at his beer.

Seungkwan, however, has never had a good poker face, and gives Chan a too innocent smile as his ears redden. “I don’t know what you mean, Channie.”

“You two–” Chan starts to point out their position— and the fact he’s pretty damn sure Hansol’s hand is on Seungkwan’s thigh under the table— but he hears a familiar, heart fluttering, angelic sound, and he sits upright, head swivelling to search the bar for the one person he would happily ditch his best friends for.

“Oh, you’ve turned into a meerkat,” Seungkwan muses, relaxing in his place and giving Hansol a relieved look while Chan is distracted. Hansol just smiles at him, then they both focus on their best friend, who is practically climbing up onto his chair on his knees to get a higher vantage point. “Okay, too far,” Seungkwan declares when Chan’s leg lifts as if he’s going to plant a knee on the table to climb up. Or piss like a dog with his leg cocked, though Seungkwan is pretty sure that Chan needs to be much drunker to try that…again. That was a dark day for Chan’s new trainers.

“Noo, let me find her,” Chan whines, batting at Seungkwan’s hands, head still trying to peer around the fairly busy room.

“How about you go get us a fresh round, and you can scope the place like that?” Hansol suggests after draining the last dregs of his beer, before pushing the empty glass across the table.

“Good idea!” Chan quickly snatches the empty glass and gets up, whining at Seungkwan wordlessly as the man tries to down the last of his own beer without spilling it. “Finally!” Chan exclaims exasperatedly as he takes the freshly empty glass and darts off, while Seungkwan’s chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, and Hansol rubs his back, soothing and amused at the same time.

As Chan crosses the room to get to the bar on the opposite side as the tables, skirting around the dance floor as he goes, he makes sure to keep his eyes open for you— and only walks into three people, which he thinks is a very low number for how busy it is mixed with not paying attention. Yet, no matter how hard he looks, he can’t find you, or hear your familiar laugh again, so he slumps against the bar and waits to be served.

He’s only there a minute and the bartender is working on refilling the glasses when someone approaches and leans on their elbows on the bar to his right. Naturally, Chan looks over and immediately lights up upon spotting you already grinning at him.

“I knew I heard your laugh!” he declares, and although it would probably be creepy from anyone else, you just find it cute from Chan and let out one of those laughs he loves so much. “Yeah, like that.” He sighs dreamily and leans one elbow on the bar so that he can fully face you.

“What happened to keeping yourself available for me tonight?” you muse.

“I’m always available for you,” he says, looking so serious and almost offended that you’d suggest otherwise. The audacity to think that he wouldn’t do literally anything to spend more time with you. It’s crazy talk.

“Oh yeah?” you question, and he nods, then looks to his left at the bar top when you motion to it. He spots the beers and understands.

“Those aren’t mine. They’re for my friends. You remember Hansol, right?”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We were at his farm yesterday.”

“Well, yeah, him and our other best friend, Seungkwan. I think they’re dating or something now,” he announces, leaning in closer conspiratorially. You mirror his action with a grin, more than happy to go along with it. “They’ve always sat close, but tonight, they’re even closer, and I’m pretty sure Sol’s touching up Kwan under the table.”

“That doesn’t sound very public friendly,” you muse.

“Oh! Not in that way; I just meant has his hand on Kwan’s thigh. But now you’ve said that… I really hope it’s not in that way.” Chan isn’t sure what exactly his expression does, but it makes you laugh, so he doesn’t care, and just grins at you. “So, where are your friends?” he wonders, peering around curiously yet finds nobody looking in your direction as if they’re waiting for you to return.

“They were touching each other up under the table, so I ditched them,” you joke, and Chan laughs.

“Well, you can join us, if you want?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“Will there be under the table touching?” You smirk, and Chan’s mind blanks as he stares at you dumbly, making you giggle. “Sure, I’d love to join you, if your friends won’t mind, that is.”

“They won’t. Kwan wants to meet you, and Sol already likes you.”

“Ah, that’s cool, I like him.”

Chan suddenly pouts at you, but you don’t notice, you’re too busy leaning forward onto the bar to flag down the bartender and order yourself a drink. Even when he hands his card to the bartender— without looking— Chan is still pouting at you. You look at him as you spot his bank card appear, and raise a questioning eyebrow at him, both for the paying for your drink, and the expression.

“What?” you ask, deciding to just accept the drink and face the pouting instead. You can always buy him a drink later anyway.

“You like me better, right?” he questions without losing his pout. You huff a soft laugh. “No?”

“Yes, idiot,” you assure, and Chan breams, despite you just calling him an idiot. “And if you must know, I think you’re very likely my favourite person in his town,” you declare, tone a little quieter, lower, as if it’s just the two of you, before you pick up your drink and turn away. Though Chan doesn’t follow, so you stop after a few steps and look back at his stunned, gawping figure. “Well, come on then, introduce me to the man Hansol’s touching up under the table.”

“Right!” Chan darts forward, intending to take you to the table as requested, yet you put a gentle hand on his chest to stop him, giggling amusedly. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you forget something?” you remind him and motion behind him at the bar, so Chan looks over and notices the two glasses of beer sitting there with his bank card left on the surface beside them.

“Oh, shit.” He rushes over to pocket his card, then grabs the drinks and turns to face you with an embarrassed little grin. “This way.”

At the table, Seungkwan lights up when Chan introduces you and says you’re joining them, and you grin back before joining them and easily get into conversation with Seungkwan as if you already know each other. As if you’ve always been around. As if you’re supposed to be here with them, right by Chan’s side.

Since the day in the bar where you spent hours with Chan, Hansol, and Seungkwan, Seungkwan has bugged Chan to ask you out at every available opportunity.

Because he’s a meddling little shit, Seungkwan has arranged many hang outs for the four of you. Which, to Chan, are increasingly feeling like double dates, despite the fact that Hansol and Seungkwan are still evasive about whatever is going on between them, and you never bat an eyelid about the growing romantic vibes to the hang outs.

You don’t even question it or back off when you arrive to Seungkwan’s apartment set up with slow, romantic music and candles. Or when Seungkwan insists you and Chan slow dance together after dinner. Okay, maybe that’s Chan’s fault. After he offhandedly mentions how he hasn’t danced with someone in a while, you say the same, and then Seungkwan goads the two of you on until you relent, pull Chan to his feet, and put his hand on your waist— Chan’s pretty sure he astrally projects for a second when that happens— in the middle of Seungkwan’s kitchen while the man himself watches on with a shit-eating grin.

Still, Chan doesn’t give in and is happy to continue as you are. Admittedly, he could be even happier if he got the chance to romance you, but he’s more than content being such good friends with you.

He really doesn’t expect you to feel otherwise, though.

It comes to a head completely out of the blue one morning, when Chan is using his day off to help you organise your so-rarely-used office at the vets. The fact it’s so rarely used is why it’s such a mess. Well, mess in the way there’s no obvious system and things are just placed everywhere, yet you always manage to find what you need quickly enough that you hadn’t wanted to block off any of your appointment times to tackle the task earlier. But it’s spring, and the local ewes have all started to pop out lambs left, right, and centre, so you haven’t been accepting appointments other than emergencies, just in case you get the call about a sheep in labour.

Chan isn’t aware of it, he’s too busy frowning in concentration down at the pile of books on the floor in front of him where he’s sitting as he tries to decide which ones you should display on your shelves and which should go in the closed cupboard, but you’ve been staring at him contemplatively for a good few minutes already.

When you speak, Chan jolts in surprise, first at the sudden noise, but then at the words that come out of your mouth. “Okay, are you going to ask me on a date, or am I going to have to do it?” You wait for a response for only a few seconds before taking his dumb expression and wide eyes as answer. “Alright, tonight at 6:30, pick me up and we’ll go to that Italian place Seungkwan keeps telling us to try. Okay?” It takes a few moments, but Chan manages to shut his mouth and nod in confirmation, slowly at first still in disbelief, but then the enthusiasm catches up and his head bobbles cutely, making you smile. “Good. Dress pretty for me, yeah?”

“Y–yeah,” he almost wheezes out, voice so pinched and quiet. But you just giggle and return to your work, so Chan takes a few moments to admire your smile and wait for his thundering heart to calm before he turns back to those books and then sighs forlornly. He wishes it was 6:30 already. Only eight hours left to go. Fuck.

Chan would like to say that he’s been cool and calm for the past hours. He’d like to say that he easily picked his outfit for the date with minimal deliberation, that he didn’t have three almost breakdowns, and that Seungkwan didn’t almost shake Chan’s brain out of his ears when he did nothing but stand in his shower for half an hour without even turning the water on— yes, Seungkwan did barge in on him, and no, Seungkwan doesn’t understand what privacy is.

Truthfully, Chan thinks he’s never been so nervous for anything in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked at himself in the mirror and picked out every little thing someone could find as a fault, as a reason to leave him in the middle of a restaurant with only breadsticks and ice water to soothe his broken heart.

Realistically, Chan knows you’d never be so cruel, but he’s not Realistic Chan anymore, he’s Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan. And Chan hates being Scared-That-The-Woman-Of-His-Dreams-Will-Realise-He’s-Not-Good-Enough-For-Her Chan, it’s too much of a mouthful.

So, Chan does what Chan does best, and deludes himself into thinking he’s a normal, functioning young man entirely capable of going on this date and not acting like a love-sick freak.

Well, he deludes himself until the moment you step out of your house and steal his breath away. You’re wearing a pretty dress that stops just above your knees— as if that’s not reason enough for Chan to lose his mind like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time—, with a neckline that hints at cleavage without dipping low enough that Chan will be completely distracted all night having a staring contest with your boobs. You’ve even done your hair and put on some makeup that makes you look like a literal goddess. Chan isn’t going to be normal about this at all.

“Oh my god, you’re an angel,” he blurts as he scrambles forward to meet you a few metres from his car. His freshly washed and waxed car that he had previously been leaning against like the stud of a male lead in a cheesy rom com while feeling very much like one, and like he might have the upper hand and make you swoon for once. He was evidently, very fucking wrong about that.

“Oh,” you respond, surprised by how intense and genuine his reaction is. You had expected him to react pretty strongly, but this is so honest that it makes your heart flutter— more than he already makes it anyway, you just haven’t let him know that. You look down at your feet as you giggle shyly, and Chan positively melts. “Thank you. You look very handsome,” you compliment as you look at the man donned in a black shirt with maybe one button undone too low on his chest to not be on purpose— though you really aren’t opposed to the teasing glimpse of strong chest—, neat, dark trousers, and a nice jacket perfect for the weather, which he only brings out for special occasions. A date with you is the most special occasion as far as Chan is concerned. Honestly, you’d have to agree.

“Oh, really?” Chan asks, genuinely surprised, having not expected the compliment, and quickly looks at himself. “Seungkwan picked it; I…was too nervous to be useful.”

“Chan,” you start to say, and move forward to gently tilt his head back up so that he’ll see the truth in your eyes. “I always think you’re handsome.”

“Oh,” he exhales, eyes big and round, and cheeks warming softly.

“Come on, let’s go, I’m starving,” you encourage as you let go of him and step around his almost frozen figure to approach his car.

Before you can even reach out for the passenger door, Chan is suddenly there, scrambling to open it for you, then offer his hand to help you into your seat like a true gentleman. The best part is that you know he isn’t putting it on to impress you, Chan is just like that. It makes your heart flutter, and you giggle softly as you swing your legs into the footwell once seated to allow him to shut the door.

Chan all but falls into his seat moments later in his rush to join you. He gives you an adorably embarrassed smile as you laugh, endeared by his clumsy actions, and then he settles himself and pulls his door shut. “Okay, let’s go!” he cheers once he’s plugged his seatbelt in— and double checked yours is also securely in place—, then starts the drive to the restaurant.

Despite how nervous he was— and remains—, Chan has to admit that the date goes well. Like, really well.

Although it could be awkward, especially with his stammering, and gawping, and blurting out compliments at the most random times, it isn’t. It takes him a little while, but he realises that your smile doesn’t change even when he does those embarrassing things, not in a bad way at least. Every time he does something stupid or obviously smitten, your smile softens and your gaze on him turns so gentle that Chan can’t mistake it for anything but the truth; you’re fond of him, and find him endearing, not a giant fool. Okay, maybe you do also think that, but Chan suddenly realises that it’s pretty damn likely that you like that about him.

After a truly delicious dinner that you insist on paying for as the one who asked Chan on the date— which has Chan trying to not to giggle dopily into his hands like a swooning maiden at the reminder, and your no-nonsense, doting words and actions—, the two of you head outside to his car, only to divert before even reaching it as you motion to the nearby park. Chan’s more than happy to toddle after you, and all but squeaks when you gently grab his hand at the road to tug him across quickly so that you don’t have to wait until after the incoming stream of cars to cross.

Unfortunately, you let go of him once you’re both safely across the road with both feet on the path. Chan thinks he does a very convincing job of pretending to not pout about no longer having your hand in his. He doesn’t. It’s incredibly obvious, and you’re further endeared, though decide to wait and let him reach out to reconnect your hands.

But as it so happens, Chan is a coward and doesn’t make any sort of move to hold your hand, leaving it up to you. After almost twenty minutes of waiting as the two of you leisurely stroll through the mostly empty park, talking and giggling away like you’ve been doing all evening, you realise that you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life for Chan to make a move, so you reach out and take his hand into yours.

“Oh,” Chan says, dumbly looking down at your hands, making you grin to yourself, which only grows when you adjust your hold to slip your fingers between his own to secure the affection and Chan inhales so suddenly that he almost chokes on air. “Hands,” he wheezes out.

“Mm, do you mind?”

“No! Always hands!” he insists, looking up at you with wide, imploring eyes, and emphatically nods.

“Okay, always hands,” you agree with a giggle and tug him that bit closer so that you can all but hug his arm to you, right hand still connected with his, and your left hand holding his upper arm. Of course, you take a chance to cop a feel of his strong bicep, and, of course, Chan doesn’t miss the chance to flex the muscle, making you giggle. He smiles, pleased of himself— and proud of his body for gaining your interest—, and finally curls his fingers to hold your hand in return as the two of you let the conversation naturally ebb out for a calm, content quiet to replace it.

Although it’s only spring and the moon is high in the sky, it’s not as cold as it could be outside, so when you spot a bench just a little off the path, you lead Chan over to it so that you can sit by his side and lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder, and happy to spend the rest of the night by his side like this if he’ll let you. You’re pretty confident he has no arguments about it. Especially as he holds your hand that bit tighter as he rests it on his thigh, thumb rubbing over your skin absently, and tilts his head against yours with a content sigh.

“Thank you,” Chan’s gentle tone breaks the quiet a little while after sitting down, making you hum questioningly in response. “I know I act like an idiot around you, but it’s just because I like you so much that I just…get stupid. Well, stupider than normal, if you ask everyone else.”

“It’s cute.”

“I’m glad you think so. And that you asked me out. I didn’t think you were interested in me, would ever be interested in me; you’re just so…” he lets out a dreamy sigh that makes you turn your face to hide your dopey grin in his shoulder.

When you turn your head back around after a few seconds to gather yourself and stop smiling so stupidly cheesy, Chan is quiet again, and happily softly smiling ahead at nothing in particular, just letting his feelings show unabashedly on his features. You can’t help but straighten up so that you can lean in and kiss his cheek.

“Thank you for liking me so much,” you say, gently grateful. “I’m lucky to have your interest, and I don’t plan to let you move on to anyone else.”

“I won’t,” he promises, so seriously as he nods to back up his words, making you smile a little wider, so endeared. “You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and I know I’ll never find anyone better than you.”

“Good.” Your grin is cheeky, and Chan can’t help but chuckle softly, fond.

For a few long moments, the two of you do nothing but hold adoring eye contact, little smiles on your face, and neither shying away from this, from what this could turn into if you give it the chance. Chan wants to, with everything in him; he’s had a taste of what it’s like to be blessed with your entire romantic attention, and he wants to keep that privilege for the rest of his life. He’d also really like to get a taste of you, and his eyes drop down to your lips as that thought settles in his mind.

A soft, surprised inhale slips from your lips when you notice that Chan is leaning in. The man who didn’t have the balls to even hold your hand despite very obviously wanting to, is tilting towards you, aiming to kiss you. You want him to; fuck do you want him to. You’re tempted to lean in just so it’ll happen quicker, but you also want Chan to make a real move entirely on his own so that it’s not always you doing it, and he realises that he can do it without you guiding him.

And then, just as he’s mere inches away, your phone starts to ring, and you both freeze. If it was your personal phone, you wouldn’t even hear it right now, you put it on do not disturb before leaving your house for the date. But you can hear it and that can only mean one thing; it’s your work phone, and it’s important.

“Shit,” you whisper before turning to your bag to find out your work phone while Chan leans back into his own space, a little upset about being interrupted, but mostly understanding and also a little worried it’s a serious animal emergency. “It’s Hansol,” you inform after looking at the caller ID, then swipe to answer while lifting the device to your ear. “Hey, what’s going on?” you ask, already getting up, knowing that regardless of the reason Hansol is calling, you need to get to his family farm sooner rather than later; he’s far too experienced and level-headed to call you for anything minor.

“Sheila’s gone into labour,” he announces.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon, you know what to do until then.”

“Got it, see you soon, doc.”

You place your phone back away and turn, expecting Chan to still be sitting on the bench, but he’s already standing close by with his car keys in his hand.

“Let’s go,” he says, taking your hand into his free one to quickly lead you back through the park, both of you rushing to get to his car sooner.

Without you saying a word, Chan drives straight to the vets, and though you don’t tell him to, he follows you inside to help you grab everything you need— the man now well versed in what exactly you need to help bring a lamb or two into the world—, then leads you back to his car.

“You missed the turning,” you comment a few minutes later, pointing dumbly to the road that leads towards your house.

“No I didn’t.” He briefly gives you a look as if you’re stupid, before focusing on the road out of town. “Sol’s place is this way.”

“Oh…I thought you were taking me home and then going home yourself,” you admit.

“I’m your assistant, aren’t I?” He grins cheekily. You let out a soft little laugh, so relieved and beyond glad to have this lovely man by your side and reach out to hold his hand into your own. He smiles a little brighter without looking away from the road.

After hours of waiting, when the sun has chased the moon away and started to rise up and smile down on the two new lives blessing the Choi farm, your job is done.

“I’ll never get over it,” Chan comments as the two of you head back towards his car, both of your outfits completely ruined from the birthing fluids, dust, and hay of the barn, and your hair in a messy, barely still together bun Chan had tied it into hours ago while you pulled on your long gloves.

“Hm?” you wonder, glancing at him quickly, then looking at his car as he unlocks it, allowing you to open the boot so that he can put your bags inside— which he insisted on carrying with the excuse that you carried the weight of bringing two new lambs into the world, so it’s his turn to carry; luckily, he’s cute enough to get away with such bullshit.

“You just helped that mama bring her babies into this world, and you let me assist you. No matter how many times I help you do this, I’ll never get over how incredible it is.”

“It’s a good feeling, huh?” you muse.

“Beyond good. I might just quit my job to do this full time,” he declares, making you laugh. “What? I’m serious!”

“Channie, lambing season is spring, you’d be out of a job most of the year if you quit just for this,” you reason.

“I meant work with you in general, really. And there are other animals to help through labour, too! I wanna help bring a baby cow into the world.”

“Alright, next time I get that call, I’ll let you know.” Chan beams at you, looking so genuinely happy at the offer that you can’t help but be further endeared by the man.

“I should probably call off work today,” he muses after checking the time on his watch— that has been tucked safely in his jacket pocket out of the way for the past few hours to not risk ruining it, and the jacket hung up on a post in the barn far from the splash zone at your insistence; he had practically sprinted to do as you told him to when you said you really liked how it looked on him and hope to see him wear it again. “I’m due at work in like two hours.”

“Mm, yeah, call off,” you agree a little distractedly as you watch him meander around the car after shutting the boot, his eyes on his phone as he types a message to his boss one handed, and the other blindly reaching for the passenger side door long before he’s close enough to grasp the handle.

“You’ll at least take the morning off, right?” he checks as he slides his phone into his pocket and looks at you.

“Yeah, I won’t go in until the afternoon. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,” you answer, soothing him of his worries.

“And you’ll call me if you need me, right? For anything.”

“Anything?” you tease, and he nods so seriously that you can’t help but chuckle as the euphemism goes right over his adorable head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” He motions to the seat, then offers his hand to you like he’s been doing all night to help you in and out of the car— like he’s always wanted to but felt it would be overstepping as a friend to do so, but he’s your…date-man now; he has no idea what he is to you at this point, but whatever it is, he wears the label with pride.

You take his hand and start to move towards the seat, only to back up and turn to face him so suddenly that he jerks back in shock, only to lean back in, eyes round in curious wonder. “So, I know this isn’t the most attractive look or anything.” You motion to yourself vaguely; Chan’s gaze follows to take you in head to toe, and when his gaze returns to you, he’s got a little smile on his face that makes you blush softly. “But I don’t want to wait until an undetermined later point.” Unsurprisingly, Chan’s expression turns puzzled. “I would very much like it if you did the thing you were going to do before Hansol called.”

Somehow, Chan just look even more confused, features scrunching cutely, and head tilting to the side— maybe it’s the animal loving vet you in you that absolutely loves it when he gains this dumb, puppy-dog look. After rolling your eyes at his reaction, figuring you’ll have to spell it out and you’d rather just get to it, you lean in to press a kiss to Chan’s lips. It’s only a quick thing, nothing but a sweet barely-longer-than-a-peck kiss, before you pull back. Chan’s making some strange, strangled, shocked noise as he stares at you with wide eyes, making you snicker out a laugh.

To your genuine surprise, Chan suddenly snaps out of his daze and lifts both hands to cup your face, secure yet still gentle, so that he can connect his lips with yours in a kiss so perfect that you never want it to end. You all but melt against him, hands lifting to hold onto his wrists so that he’ll not let you go before you’re ready; he just kisses you more thoroughly. For someone that’s been so awkward and cowardly about making a move until now, the man can kiss. Holy fuck can the man kiss.

Only when both of your chests are heaving to try and suck in some oxygen do you naturally pull apart to dopily stare at one another under the rising sun with lamb birth dried on your nicest clothes. It’s probably pretty gross for a first kiss— ignoring your peck—, but you still think it’s perfect, and you’d never change it for the world.

“For the record,” Chan starts after a minute; once you’re both breathing almost normally again and his thumbs are consistently brushing soothing arcs over your cheekbones as his palms refuse to leave your skin. Not that you’ve tried to make him stop and would happily let him touch you so tenderly until the sun sets again. “You’re always attractive to me.”

You smile and tilt your chin up to press a short kiss to his lips. “You say that now but wait until you see me first thing in the morning, hungover, with only two hours sleep.”

Chan grins and cutely taps his nose against yours. “Just sounds to me like you’re already planning to share the bed with me,” he points out cheekily, making you giggle. “I already look forward to it.”

“Yeah,” you agree softly. “Me too.”

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Finally, after over seven weeks of cleaning from top to bottom, redecorating every room, and buying and assembling furniture, your home feels complete. At least, on the inside because the garden is another matter entirely.

Part of what first drew you to the house wasn’t the building itself, but the beautiful garden that wraps around the entirety of it, full of lush, green grass, and so many flowers and plants that you couldn’t hope to even try to name them all. You had seen the carefully curated gardens in the photos and fell in love.

What you failed to consider though, was that the photos were taken over a year ago, when the house first went up for sale, and now it’s been neglected for at least that long.

The once tidy and obviously adored garden has turned into a veritable jungle that you have no idea what to do with, but you need to try if you want even a semblance of a chance of returning it to its former glory.

Which is all well said and done; you’re sure even a half decent home gardener would be able to tackle the tangle of leaves and stems, however, you are not a half decent home gardener. In fact, you’ve never handled a single flower that wasn’t already cut and tied up in paper, topped with a bow and a little card full of false promises and love declarations from your ex-husband.

Having been born and raised in the middle of the city, always living in blocks of pristine apartments, you never had the chance to own even a single little potted cactus. When you were younger, you were never particularly interested in plants anyway, so you really didn’t mind growing up without any in your home. Then, you got a job and didn’t even think about plants. Even the ones you walked past to work, you never considered them really, more that you were just used to them being dotted around, just part of the scenery.

Unfortunately, by the time you developed an interest in growing plants, you were married to a man that point blank refused to bring anything dirty into the spotless apartment. All you wanted was a single potted plant to keep you company during the day at home until he returned, unable to even socialise with the staff he hired to keep your shared home exactly as he liked it. You had been so lonely even as the staff bustled around day in day out; all you wanted was something alive to tend to and bond with, but you weren’t allowed, and you were left with a heart aching for something you believed you’d never have.

Yet now, you have more plants and garden than you know what to do with. Still, you’re determined to give it your best. After a few days of research and buying all the supplies you may potentially need, you step out of your front door ready to do your best to return the gardens to their former glory.

Only to immediately freeze upon noticing your neighbour walking past your house, his head already swivelled to glare in disdain at you, at your mess of a garden.

“G–good morning,” you greet, waving a little awkwardly.

As expected from the sour man, he only grunts in response— it’s such a vague sound, but you can feel the contempt rolling off of him towards you—, and then he sharply turns his head away and walks to his own home, all but slamming the door behind him.

From the very first day you moved in, as soon as you stepped your foot out of your car and onto your driveway for the first time, you just knew with everything in you that the man had scared off every potential buyer when they had visited the house for a viewing. He had been standing on his front doorstep, arms crossed and dark eyes staring you down. Which honestly, scared the shit out of you, it was such an evil look; but you had already bought the house, so you didn’t turn and run away despite the urge rearing up within you.

You had hoped that your neighbour would get used to your presence, would soften up, and at least stop glaring at you like he’s trying to curse your entire bloodline with a look, but he hasn’t. You even tried going old school and baked some cupcakes to take over to gift him while introducing yourself the next day. Yet he had sharply refused the gift, claiming to not eat sweets; only for you to spot him returning home the next day, chewing on a chocolate chip cookie the size of your hand.

The man hadn’t even introduced himself either, so even though it’s been almost two months, you have no idea what the name of your nearest neighbour is. You know the names of at least a dozen people who live in the town already from your shopping trips and walks— all of whom are lovely, to your joy—, yet not his.

Although you should be used to the man’s obvious hatred for you at this point, you’re not. Every time you catch him glaring in your direction, or when he only grunts in response to your greetings, it hurts. You’ve done nothing to warrant such hostility, and you don’t know how to fix it. The last thing you want is to spend the rest of your life living next door to man that despises your entire existence for reasons unknown, but you’ve put too much into making this old house a home that you refuse to leave.

You hope that with a little more time, he’ll at least lose a little of the fire in his sharp gaze when it’s directed towards you, but you’re not going to hold your breath, just the hope cupped close in your chest.

It takes a few days of you wandering around the garden to carefully inspect every inch and do further research on the plants already settled there before you actually start to work on the garden. You hadn’t wanted to go barging in, digging, and pulling only to kill any of the life buried in the soil; you wanted to do your best to find out which plants you need to carefully work around to keep alive, and the ones you need to pull up to stop them from hurting your other plants.

Even when you’re pretty sure that the plant you’re kneeling before is, in fact, a weed that you need to pull up to save the flowers it is winding around, you hesitate; so scared that you’re wrong or will hurt the innocent flowers getting strangled.

You’re entirely unaware of the man peering down at you from his upstairs hallway window, that he’s been watching you meander around the garden the past couple of days, utterly puzzled about what you’re doing.

“Come on, you can do this,” you mutter to yourself before taking a few steadying breaths and leaning in to carefully start unwinding the weed from the stem of the flower closest to you.

Honestly, it’s a lot harder than you thought it’d be, you have to be so careful— or maybe not as careful as you’re being, but you’re inexperienced and scared to do something wrong—, and the strangling weed is a complete asshole. Just when you think you’ve freed a plant from it’s grasps, you notice another tiny, easy to miss vine curled around a stem, and you have to lean even closer, work even slower and cautiously to make sure you only pinch the weed off and not the stem of the flowers you want to save.

It takes hours for you to finish that one small flower bed, but when you get up ready to go indoors for a late lunch, you could swear the flowers look brighter, look like they’re standing tall and happy. Although they’re just plants, and they can’t possibly have such feelings, the thought still makes you smile, and you practically skip into your house with pride in your chest from your hard work.

On the third day of practically crawling around your garden on your hands and knees amongst the overgrown grass and sprawling stems and vines, you find yourself interrupted in the midst of a very one-sided conversation with a particularly happy looking weed. Honestly, you think it’s rather pretty and don’t want to remove it, but it’s greedily sucking all the water from the soil before the surrounding plants can get any, so you don’t really have a choice.

“Are you ready?” you ask the weed, after a very thorough pep talk to you both, letting the plant know that you have every intention of replanting it in the large plant pot you found hiding amongst an overgrown blackberry bush at the bottom of the back garden.

You don’t realise that you’re being watched in utter bewilderment until a truly unexpected voice meets your ears when you’ve got one hand in the already loosened soil, fingers amongst the thick roots of the weed, and the other hand carefully wrapped around the bottom of the main stem to keep it upright as you lift.

“What the fuck?”

Immediately, your head whips around, and your wide, startled gaze finds your neighbour standing on the other side of the low wall separating your side gardens— his much smaller than your own, and barely big enough to get his bicycle down the grassy strip to the shed in the back garden. He’s looking at you with eyes wide and mouth parted in what looks like astonishment.

“Uhm, hello,” you greet, shuffling on your knees a little, awkward, and not sure how you’re supposed to respond to the man. It’s the first time you’ve seen him face on without his gaze piercing down to your very soul.

“Did you just pull that weed out with your bare hands?” he questions, dumbly pointing to it, so you also look at the weed; the thick roots tangled between your fingers further than you realised, and soil covering your skin. Initially, you did wear gloves— and still do with the potentially harmful plants— but it’s easier to feel around the delicate plants without the thick material in the way, so you mostly don’t bother to wear them.

“It’s not poisonous,” you clarify, looking at the man. “I checked.”

“I didn’t mean that. I know it only harms other plants by stealing their water, but it’s stubborn. I’ve never seen anyone pull one without the use of some very strong tools, and even then, they usually need help.

“Oh, really?” you wonder, turning back to the plant, not noticing the roots gently winding around your wrist; the sensation too light and your focus elsewhere to notice. “I guess this one is a gentle soul,” you muse, then shuffle over to do as promised and carefully replant the weed in the waiting pot already full of fresh, damp soil. “There, now you can have all the water you want without hurting the others,” you declare once you’re done after pouring more water onto the soil.

When you get up and stretch, getting ready to relocate the pot a few metres away to a spot you think the weed will like a lot, yet not be a risk to other plants, you’re shocked to find your neighbour still standing there gawping at you. You’re not sure what to do or say. You want to move the pot and return to the flowerbed, but you know that you’ll have to awkwardly shimmy and shove the heavy pot, and you really don’t want the pretty man to watch you look so foolish, especially the first time that he’s shown an interest in you.

Honestly, you kind of hate that even when he’s done nothing but be icy towards you these past two months, you still think he’s so unbelievably beautiful. You don’t think it fair that people can be so mean without reason and still be blessed with such beauty. It’s unfair. Even a few weeks back when you told yourself you’d stop looking over whenever you notice him outside, you couldn’t help but want to catch a glimpse of his features, loveliness unmarred by the scowl etched into his expression whenever he met your gaze. You really did try to stop looking at him, but such a stunning masterpiece deserves to be admired, and you’ve always been a lover of art.

“How did you do that?” he mutters, still staring at the happily replanted weed. You really don’t know what to say, and you think miming the actions would entirely freak the man out, so you just stand there, twisting your soil dusted fingers together awkwardly, and blinking innocently, hoping he’ll move on already. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. “Seriously, what kind of charm did you use?” he enthuses, eyes widening in awed interest as they lift and land on you, as if he’s trying to look into your mind for his answers.

“Uhm…I don’t understand the question,” you admit. “Is…is this flirting?” you ask, pulling an uncertain face. You feel your heart drop a little at the way he rears back as if even the mere idea of him flirting with you is absurd.

“What? No!” He straightens up, levelling you with an expression that’s half boggled and half bewildered, with a little befuddlement thrown in.

“Oh. Sorry, you said charm, and I just…that’s a flirting thing, isn’t it? When someone uses their charm?”

For what feels like minutes, the man just stares at you, as if he needs time to fully register and absorb the words you’ve said. “Oh, you’re not using any magic.” There’s realisation in his tone as his whole posture changes, something a little awkward now, especially when he realises that now you’re staring at him as if you need time to understand what he’s said to you. Though when you do speak, it’s clearly not what he expects, if the way his eyebrows lift in surprise is anything to go on.

“Is that flirting?” you mumble a little dumbly, feeling so lost and out of your depth. A feeling that only grows when the last thing you expect to happen, happens. The man giggles. It’s a light, airy sound, melodic and so pretty, and so truly unexpected from the man who has done nothing but glare at you for two months. It makes your entire being malfunction, brain shutting off, heart racing, stomach flipping, and mouth moving to make some garbled attempt at words before your legs make you dart off inside, slam the door behind you, and then curl up on the floor against it in the strangest display of self-preservation you’ve ever enacted.

For the man’s part, he just stares after you in surprise for a few moments, then lets out another one of those giggles before he turns and heads back into his own house.

It’s almost twenty minutes before you’ve recovered enough to get up and stealthily peer out of the window overlooking the area of the garden that you had dedicated this morning to. You have the perfect view of the low wall splitting your land from the neighbour’s and let out a breath of relief to find him nowhere in sight.

“It’s fine, he’ll go back to glaring and I’ll never have to face him again, it’s fine,” you mutter as you tentatively return to the door to edge outside, convincing yourself to not hide in your house for the rest of your life so that you’ll never have to face your pretty neighbour again after making such a colossal fool out of yourself.

For the first hour of returning to gardening, you feel on edge, like the man will appear at any moment and question what kind of strange place you must be from to act like that. Thankfully, you get lost in your work and forget all about looking over your shoulder, returning to your plants with a content smile on your face.

To your horror, the very next day when you step out in the morning for another day of work, your pretty neighbour is standing on the other side of your closed gate as if he’s waiting for you, a tiny smile tilting his lips, and a cake box in his hands. It’s wrapped with a pretty orange bow the same colour as the little apron you tie around your waist every day to hold your most used gardening tools for easy access, and though you vaguely notice that, you quickly dismiss it as coincidence. There’s no way your neighbour purposely asked them to wrap it in that colour ribbon to match. No way. You also ignore the fact that you’ve bought from that bakery yourself a few times since moving to town, and you’ve only seen them use pale blue ribbons.

“Good morning,” he starts, shuffling the box a little so that one hand can lift, and his slender fingers can wiggle at you in a wave. You wave dumbly back, and his smile lifts. “I think we really got off on the wrong foot, and I’d like to make up for it. May we start over?” You don’t say anything, still too busy staring in shock. “My name is Minghao; I’m your neighbour, and I’d really like to get to know you,” he informs, tone gentle, and tags your name on the end as if you’re not already halfway to a mental breakdown from his mere presence.

The fact that he had actually paid attention when you introduced yourself that day— before shutting the door in your face— and remembers, feels like a much bigger deal than it is. You just genuinely hadn’t expected him to ever call you by your name, to even willingly talk to you, so hearing it fall so effortlessly, so easily from his lips, stuns you a little.

“I’m not a good baker, but I bought cupcakes; you know, sweeten the deal?” he jokes, smiling a little embarrassed by his own words, and cheeks so endearingly pink.

You squeak, then abruptly turn into your house, and hide behind the closed door.

When you recover moments later, you knock your forehead against the door and berate yourself for making a fool of yourself again in front of the man. If this is going to become a regular thing, you think you’re going to have to move away to save yourself endless future embarrassments.

It’s utterly out of character for you too; you’ve never made such a fool of yourself because of a pretty man before. Then again, you’ve never seen such a pretty man before, and you think that means you probably get a pass or two for not being able to react like a functioning human at the sound of his giggle, or your name said in his gentle voice, or a shy blush. Really it’s his fault for attacking you with sweetness after so much sour. You thought that was the man he is: nothing more than a bitter, unsociable asshole, but it seems that he has seriously mislead you.

The more you think about it, the more you want to know why he acted so coldly towards you, only to turn his attitude around all of a sudden. You think that you deserve an explanation, and you certainly won’t get one hiding away in your house.

With a renewed sense of determination flowing through your veins, you straighten your posture and open the door, only to lose a little of that strength and shrink slightly upon spotting Minghao still standing on the other side of the waist height wooden gate, leaning his right elbow on the thick top, chin propped on his palm, and amusement sparkling in his eyes as he watches you.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling as you step out of your home like a newborn lamb taking their first steps; uncertain and about ready to drop on your ass in a mess of weak legs if he keeps looking at you like this.

“Hi,” you reply, a barely audible croak, but he smiles wider and straightens up.

“I wasn’t sure what ones to get, so I went the safe route and bought lemon raspberry,” he informs as he holds the box over the gate in offer.

“That’s the safe option?” you wonder bewildered as you slowly get closer, approaching cautiously as if he’s going to reach out and sucker punch you in the throat. Or giggle; that’s potentially more dangerous, at least for your juddering heart and apparently very weak mental state when faced with gorgeous men. Or this gorgeous man in particular, you should say.

“Well, it’s sweet and sour, best of both worlds if you ask my friend. Though, I think he’d still rather more lemon, but he’s a freak, so we don’t consider his opinion where sour is concerned.”

“You do realise you just contradicted yourself, right?”

Just as you accept the gift into your hands, Minghao giggles, realising you’re right, and you almost drop the cupcakes. He flails his arms out to help, his hands settling over yours on either side of the box, and you can only stare dumbly up at him at the touch, how close you are. Dammit, he’s even prettier up close.

“We saved them,” he grins playfully at you.

And you, in all your brainless state when faced with this man and his smile, say perhaps the dumbest thing you possibly can right now. “My ex-husband cheated on me,” you blurt, and immediately turn wide eyed when Minghao recoils in shock, his hands leaving yours and his eyes widening to match yours.

“Uh—”

“I mean that I’m very single!” you declare, brain still apparently offline as you only make things worse. “I–I mean–” you stammer out a mess of panicked, jumbled words as Minghao’s expression melts, then twists into something that’s half amused, half utterly insanity inducing where it’s tucked into his smirk.

“Is this flirting?” he teases, leaning on his palms on the gate, tilting in towards you as he repeats the words you asked him less than 24 hours ago.

“Fact!” you sputter, shaking your head.

“Ah, I see. Well, if we’re exchanging facts, I’m very single too.”

“Good!” His lips turn up into a toothy grin, a little dark around the edges as his gaze remains utterly entertained and teasing on you. “I–I mean–”

“Do you have tea?” he asks, nodding towards your house, making you peek over your shoulder at it naturally to follow his prompt, then turn your head back to look at him and nod dumbly, head wobbling loosely and mouth still open from being cut off from your nervous, embarrassed rambling. “How about I come inside for tea?”

“Is that a euphemism?” you whisper, and he cracks up, leaning down onto the gate as he laughs bodily.

“Oh, you are precious,” he giggles, peering up at you from his hunched over spot.

“Thank you.”

He giggles some more before gathering himself and straightens up, cheeks bunched with how big he’s grinning. “So, tea?”

“Why did you glare so much?” you blurt, brain kicking back in enough to remember the whole reason you stepped back out of your house. You think that if you don’t take the chance to confront the man while you can, you’ll lose the will and ability and just get swept along with his sweet giggles and teasing gaze.

Minghao’s amusement melts away bit by bit at your words, until he’s looking aside with what appears like guilt on his features while he stares at the garden to your left, right where you left the pot with the pretty weed yesterday. “I’m not sure I can really explain, not in a way you’ll understand,” he admits, tone quieter, uncertain almost. “I can imagine it will be a lot for you to take in, to accept even. You’re not…” He sighs and returns his gaze to you. “I’m sorry for how I acted, it wasn’t kind of me at all. I suppose in simple turns, I was jealous. I’ve wanted this house for the garden since it went up for sale, but I couldn’t afford it, so when you moved in, I assumed you wouldn’t care for the garden at all, that you didn’t deserve such a place as this. But I was wrong; you deserve it more than I ever could, that proves it.” He points to the pot, confusing you.

“How does that prove anything?” He just gives you a little smile that you somehow just know means he has no intention of elaborating at all. “Right.” You frown a little, confused, and not sure what is the correct thing to do here when there’s clearly something Minghao is refusing to explain, but you also don’t think it’s your place to push.

When you reach out, Minghao steps back slightly, eyes widening, though he relaxes when you just unlatch the gate and pull it open in silent offer.

“Thank you,” he says, sounding so genuinely grateful and pleased that you quickly turn to lead the way into the house, and only trip slightly on the step leading into the house. “Oh, careful,” he worries, hands on your upper arms, having reached out to steady you.

You just hum vaguely in response, too scared to open your mouth in case something stupid comes out again, and rush to the kitchen to put the cupcake box on the table and get started putting the kettle on to boil.

“Oh, it’s beautiful in here,” Minghao comments, sounding awed as he looks around where he’s standing just inside the kitchen, seeming genuinely interested in the décor and little knickknacks you’ve placed around to make the place yours.

“Thank you.”

“It’s a huge change from how Elodie had it.”

“Elodie?”

“Oh, right.” He looks at you and smiles softly. “The previous owner. She had lived here for decades, ever since she married her husband. They raised all of their children here, helped raised grandchildren, and then he passed, and she followed not long after, too empty without him in this house to have the strength to go on.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“In a way, but it’s beautiful in others; how much love they shared. They lived a long, happy life together, full of love and joy, and they’ll continue that in their afterlife. I think that’s the best life a person can live; finding love and true happiness like that, do you not agree?”

“I do, but I don’t think it’s possible for everyone, for most of us.”

“Respectfully, I disagree.” He moves over to help you set up the table as the kettle signals it’s boiled.

Although it makes no sense, although it shouldn’t be possible— especially considering the strained and awkward relationship the two of you have shared until now—, you and Minghao move around your kitchen together as if you’ve done this a million times. Of course, he doesn’t know where you keep items, but he asks in a gentle tone you naturally match without thinking when you answer. It’s calm; the two of you gathering everything needed without bumping into each other once and sitting down at the table opposite one another to share the cupcakes.

“So, what do you think?” he queries when you’ve taken a few bites of your cupcake, his own in a similar partially eaten state on the cute little plate before him. Plates you could not walk away from once you saw them in a second-hand store only last week. They’re too small to use for an actual meal, so you had been worried you wouldn’t find a reason to use them, but you just couldn’t leave them in the store; they’re far too cute, and you had immediately fallen in love with them.

It had made your heart flutter in a funny little pleased way when Minghao had also seemed to fall in love with the plates once he spotted them in the cupboard and excitedly grabbed two to set up for the pair of you to eat your cupcakes off. Honestly, you had intended to not bother with plates at all and just sweep the crumbs from the table after, you hadn’t even considered using the plates, but you’re more than happy that Minghao had suggested it.

“Hm?” you hum questioningly, and he points at the cupcake on your plate. “Oh, delicious. Sweet and a little sour, perfectly balanced.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees, smiling at you in an almost tender kind of way.

For a few moments, the two of you just hold gentle eye contact, share matching smiles, before he looks down, cheeks dusted pink. Neither of you say anything more, falling into a content, calm silence that feels so right that you hope this won’t be the last time that the two of you share tea and cupcakes at your kitchen table as if there’s nothing but this table, this moment, in the whole world.

Somehow, after that day, spending time with Minghao suddenly becomes such an everyday routine that not seeing him feels so wrong that you don’t quite know what to do with yourself when it happens.

“Missed me that much?” Minghao’s voice teases from right behind you where you’re sitting in your garden, aimlessly moving around the freshly sprinkled soil in the flowerbed in front of you, mind stuck on what Minghao has been doing for the past three days he’s not been home.

“Hao,” you gasp, turning to look up at him with rounded eyes. “You’re back. You said you’d be gone a week.”

“Mm missed your tea too much. You make the best tea, you know?” he replies as he sits a little to your side on the grass you cut only a few days ago.

It’s been weeks of tackling the garden— often with Minghao close by—, removing all the weeds, and pruning away until you could reasonably drag a lawn mower over the grass. Surprisingly, the grass is in great condition for the most part, only a few bare, patchy sections where you’ve had to remove harmful weeds and move decorative rocks to make it easier to mow.

“I do?” you ask, perking up a little at the compliment. You know it’s a huge compliment too, Minghao is something of a tea connoisseur, which you found out the very first time you entered his kitchen and saw his impressive collection of teas. He even has multiple tea sets which he uses depending on the vibe he wants— his own words.

“You do,” he confirms as he smiles at you in that same gentle way he always does these days, ever since the second time you ran away from him when overwhelmed by his pretty face and precious smile. You’d like to say that it hasn’t happened since, but that’d be a lie.

Even after these weeks of being friends with Minghao, he still finds ways to fluster you and make your brain stop functioning. Honestly, you’re pretty sure that he does it on purpose, finding your reactions funny; but you never have it in you to scold him, not when he’s gained the habit of reaching out to hold you in place so you that can’t run away. Sometimes, it’s just his hand holding yours securely that pins you down, but others, if it’s physically possible, Minghao’s arms find their way around you, and he holds you close to his chest with his head tilted to rest against yours. Maybe, sometimes, you pretend that you’re going to run away just so that he’ll pull you close, but you won’t tell him that.

“Though, I didn’t just miss your tea,” he adds as he watches his hand brush over the freshly cut grass.

“No? The garden?” you assume, knowing how much Minghao loves your garden, how he wanted to buy the house purely for the garden, yet couldn’t financially manage it.

Minghao’s house is half the size of yours, only built for two people really, with a much smaller garden to match; and so, even if he sold it, he wouldn’t have had the funds to buy your house when it was available. He had been trying so hard to save up though; hence why he scared potential buyers away, hoping he could keep the house free long enough to gather the funds. But you bought it, and he burned with envy.

He’s let it go now and even admitted to you that he knew he’d never realistically be able to afford it. But hope can be a dangerous thing at times, and it took him until he watched you genuinely love and care for your then neglected garden to let that soured hope free and accept the facts.

Though, only days into your friendship, when you gave him permission to help you tend to the gardens and allotted him an area to grow whatever he wants there— having overrun his own modest garden—, you saw something lift in him, and he’s been nothing but grateful and so lovely since.

Not that Minghao isn’t a genuinely lovely person— when he’s not being a jealous asshole, that is. He’s truly such a wonderful man that you find it impossible to calm the butterflies in your stomach every time you find him looking at you with that soft gaze. But there’s something even sweeter in his smiles now, something that lightens his steps and makes him almost float into your garden every single day when he spots you out there.

Logically, it makes sense that, other than your tea-making skills, Minghao has missed your garden. In fact, you’ve never seen the man happier than when he’s sitting in your garden, smiling contently at you over a cup of tea, and soil staining his fingers around the porcelain.

“No, not the garden either,” he replies, utterly bewildering you. He glances at you from under his lashes, smiles, then lifts his head just enough to lock his gaze with yours, let you see the truth in his eyes. “You, I missed you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and your heart skips probably about five too many beats to be healthy, but you don’t care, barely even notice. Especially as your mind shuts down and focuses entirely on the beautiful man before you, his words.

As soon as your body starts to move, tries to run away to hide, Minghao reaches out to grab your arms and pull you in. So naturally that it feels like you were made for this, you curl up against him, tuck up against his chest as he settles you between his spread thighs, your left shoulder pressing to his chest with your arms curled up, fingers loosely grasping his t-shirt. Minghao’s arms settle around you, his head rests against the top of yours, and you never want to be anywhere else. The content little breath he lets out makes you think that maybe, he feels the same way.

After some minutes, when your brain decides to come back online fully instead of floating around on Minghao shaped clouds, you try to sit up. Minghao makes a noise of displeasure and tugs you back, earning a little giggle to fall from your lips. You feel his cheek bunch against your hairline as he smiles.

“Let me go put the kettle on for tea,” you say, smile evident in your light tone.

“Tea can wait.”

You gasp and lean back enough to look at him in shock. “Tea can wait?”

“This is more important,” he assures. One arm breaks your comfortable cocoon as he lifts it so that he can tenderly brush his fingers over your cheek. He says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. You tilt into his hold, prompting his palm to curve against your cheek, and he lets out another one of those content sighs. “You’re so beautiful, you know?”

“Says you,” you return, tone matching his gentle one, only loud enough for the pair of you, nothing mattering past your garden, your little bubble of home. “You’re so pretty it makes me do and say dumb things.”

Minghao giggles, and you whine a little, unable to stop it, or the way your eyes round out, so enamoured by his adorable giggles that you can’t keep it off your face any longer. Not that you’ve ever been good at hiding it, but this close with one of his slender hands still reverently caressing your skin, you couldn’t hide your adoration if you tried.

“Mm, I noticed that,” he muses teasingly and leans a little closer as he grins softly. “But I like it, like how honest you are with your reactions.”

“Even though it makes me look like a fool?”

“Even though,” he agrees with a nod. “Maybe especially because it does. It’s so cute and strokes my ego.”

“I’d love to stroke you,” you mutter dumbly as his thumb brushes the edge of your mouth. Minghao snorts a laugh, leaning back so he doesn’t laugh directly in your face. “I didn’t mean like that…not that I’d say no…if you want to do that.”

Minghao giggles again and leans back in to press a kiss to your forehead that makes you gasp softly and grip his t-shirt tighter, pulse thrumming under your skin from the unexpected affection. “Let me at least take you on a date first,” he teases. You can’t nod fast enough, setting him off into giggling laughter all over again as he curls around you and holds you closer, as if there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

A year and a half ago, you moved to a sweet little town, into a house that had been left empty and untouched for over a year, and you turned it into your home.

And now, after almost a year since that day in the garden when Minghao first asked you on a date, the house next to yours is empty. You can’t help but frown a little as you peer at it from your bedroom window, recalling all the memories you made with the man who once lived there, how much happiness you created together there.

Though, the arms winding around your waist from behind, the lips that press a tender kiss to your temple as you lean back against a familiar chest, makes the frown lift into a sweet little smile. “Stop looking at it like that, or I’ll start to believe you regret asking me to move in,” Minghao teases against your skin, tightening his hold on you a little as he leans closer into you, both of you always moving to be tucked up as close as possible in these moments of affection.

“Ridiculous man,” you scold, scoffing, yet the smile on your face only grows.

“You love this ridiculous man.”

“I do,” you confirm without hesitation, with nothing but truth in your tone. “And he loves me too.” You turn your head so that you can meet his adoring gaze.

“With everything in me,” he agrees, with just as much certainty as you spoke with, then leans in to press a kiss to your lips. “Now, come to bed, it’s our first night in our shared home.” He giggles, sounding a little giddy at his own reminder, then quickly ushers you over to the bed after closing the curtains to block out the night and give you the privacy to be able to sleep comfortably.

The pair of you excitedly clamber under the covers and cuddle up, though you both know neither of you are ready to sleep yet, too full of joyous energy thanks to this big step in your relationship, this start of a new life together; a life you both hope will be as happy and full of love as the life of previous family who lived here once upon a time.

“Hao,” you prompt after a while of content quiet between you, happy to just lay basking in one another’s love and affection. He hums questioningly in response. “I think, considering that we now live together, it’s about time you tell me the truth.”

Minghao’s hand trailing mindlessly over your waist immediately stops. “What? What does that mean?” he asks, sounding confused and a little upset. “I haven’t lied to you.”

“I know, but you haven’t told me the truth either.” You adjust, wriggling around until you’re leaning up on your elbows on his right and peering down at his furrowed features looking at up at you in the dull lamp light. “The very first day we became friends, when you told me your name and invited yourself over for tea–”

“You opened the gate,” he reminds, sounding a little petulant, making you giggle shortly before continuing.

“You told me I wouldn’t understand why you hated me so much for buying this house.”

“Oh.” His expression turns into understanding, and he tugs you back down, making you return to your rightful place at his side with your head on his chest— not that he ever needs to make you cuddle up to him, you’re always more than happy do to that. “I guess it is time I tell you, huh; you’ll learn soon enough anyway, now that we live together and I won’t be able to keep hiding it from you.”

“Wait, hiding—” you try to question him, but he shushes you and holds you tighter, places a kiss on your hairline to placate you into falling still and silent.

“You know how I always say the garden is special? Things grow and thrive there in a way they wouldn’t in my old garden, despite it being only a wall away?” You hum in confirmation, easily recalling the words he’s muttered many times over the past year you’ve been tending the garden together. “There are things that can only grow in this garden, in this soil, and Elodie used to grow them for me, knowing I needed them for my work, and it’s very expensive to get them shipped in from other places.”

“So you were pissed that you had to keep spending all that money to get your fancy flowers for your teas?” you reason, assuming that the plants Elodie used to grow, the plants Minghao now grows in the garden, are ones he dries and makes up into the homemade tea blends he runs a rather successful business selling mostly online, though some locals would turn up at his house— old house— asking for wares.

“Sort of, but not exactly,” he giggles. “They’re not exactly teas, my love.”

“What do you mean? I’ve seen them, we have them filling a cupboard in the kitchen.”

“We do and those are teas, nothing more.”

“Nothing more?” you repeat, wanting to lift up to give him a suspicious look, but he holds you firm, knowing exactly that you intended to do that.

“The ones I sell to the locals and special clients, my real source of income and true job, are potions I make as a witch.”

“A witch?!” you shriek, rearing up so fast that Minghao’s arms fly off you. Then again, the man is too busy laughing away on the mattress to hold on, finding your reaction so hilarious. Especially when he can tell that you believe him entirely, don’t even think he’s joking with you despite how a part of him thought you would accuse him of playing around. But it makes him happy, makes his heart swell, so full of love for the woman who trusts him with her entire heart and soul. He’s eternally grateful for that.

“Yes, I’m a witch, born and raised,” he confirms through his giggles, beaming up at you. “This house was built on magic soil, or the ground became infused with magic over the years, nobody really knows.”

“Is that why you glow here?” you wonder, tilting your head curiously as you sit cross legged by his side.

“Glow?” he repeats, looking utterly bewildered. “Magic doesn’t make a person glow.”

“No?” Your features scrunch a little in confusion. “Then what’s that about? Ever since you started to spend more time here, you look like you glow, not physically, but like…from within.”

Minghao’s expression turns into understanding; he sits up to cup your face and presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “That glow is my love for you, growing stronger each day I spend by your side. You make me glow, sweetheart, not magic.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, cheeks warming, and eyes round and sparkling on him. “I want to make you glow like that for the rest of my life.”

“Good, because I’m never leaving your side,” he promises, and seals it with a kiss that makes you feel so warm and fuzzy, like maybe, he’s not the only one who glows.

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Although Soonyoung has a lot of great points— and some not-so-great ones that are easily overshadowed by the good—, killing people for money sort of ruined his whole thing for you when you found out.

Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t an immediate end to your relationship when you first found a weapon hidden in his apartment in a convenient, quick to grab, but well concealed, location— you doubt he expected you to be so nosey and rummage around as much as you did. Nor the second or third time.

Not even the fourth when you also found a bloodstained shirt that he hadn’t disposed of simply because you bought it for him. Which, admittedly, probably only further encouraged him when you threw the shirt aside and tackled him to the bed to enthusiastically show him how endeared you were by his sentimental action.

It probably took far longer than it should’ve for you to end things with Soonyoung. Honestly, it only happened when he asked to move in together, and you realised that you would regularly see him coming home from jobs; beaten and bruised from fights, and his victim’s blood staining his clothes. That’s if he even made it home.

When you thought about it like that; always unsure if he’d make it back to you; if maybe one day, he would have to pay for his sins in a way that ripped him away from you before you were ready, you knew you couldn’t wait for that day to come.

So, you made the choice to lose him on your own terms and ended all contact with him in hopes that you would be too distanced in every way to ever know the day the worst happens to him.

Of course, Soonyoung wasn’t happy about that and immediately tried to change your mind; tried to promise that no-one can out maneuverer Hoshi; best assassin in the entire country! And then he tripped over the hem of his ridiculously baggy jeans and made you even more certain that the idiot is going to get himself killed and leave you with a space in your chest where he once lived.

You’d like to say that Soonyoung respected your wishes after that and left you alone; that he gave you the space you requested and moved on.

But Kwon Soonyoung is a lot of things, and a quitter isn’t one of them.

Honestly, at this point, you can’t even be surprised. At this point, you should be used to this utterly insane method of winning you back. But you really can’t be blamed for never getting used to your assassin ex-boyfriend killing anyone who causes you even the slightest bit of grief.

The neighbour you complained about once on social media for having an obnoxiously loud party the night before you had to get up ridiculously early for work; found dead in a ditch days later.

The coffee shop employee who always got your order wrong; found floating in the river the day after she gave you cow’s milk despite you making a point of reminding her that you’re lactose intolerant, resulting in hours in the bathroom with horrendous stomach cramps. Okay, maybe she was trying to hurt you, you can’t be sure, but you’re pretty sure that murder wasn’t the answer!

And first thing this morning, you walked into work only to find police all over the place and quickly learned that your boss was found face down at this desk only an hour before, with a poisoned cup of long-cold coffee infront of his unblinking eyes. And well, you think Soonyoung’s taken it too far this time.

Sure, your boss was a sexist pig who liked to degrade your work and compliment his shit head of a son instead— despite the nepo baby being absolutely useless at his job—, but you could grin and bear it. The pay’s really good, and at the end of the day, you do get to pick your clients; because despite how much your boss liked to pick on you, he also knew that you’re the best in the company and he couldn’t risk losing you.

Or well, was the best in the company would be more accurate. Because not long after you get home from work, you find Soonyoung already in your apartment, with bags packed by his feet, and words on his tongue you never wanted to hear.

“Babe, I fucked up,” he admits, already getting up from the armchair to take a tentative step towards you. He looks nervous, and regretful, but also a little panicked and urgent in a way that forces you to push the stream of pissed off scolding to the back of your throat for later.

“How, Soonyoung?” you question, moving further in without even bothering to remove your shoes; you can see he still has his on, and that gives you the worst feeling that this is far more pressing than keeping your apartment clean.

“Like…in the way that you’re now on the most wanted list, so we need to fucking run.”

In all that you could’ve imagined Soonyoung saying to you one day, those words never even remotely crossed your mind; didn’t even get in the far distance of your mental view and tease a glimpse of worry into you. You can’t be blamed for taking a few long moments to just stare in stunned disbelief at the assassin infront of you as you absorb what he’s said.

Thankfully, Soonyoung must understand your shock as he doesn’t rush you to respond. Then again, he never did rush you; he was always good like that. Now, you’re not quite as sure what he is. A fucking idiot, probably.

“Fuck you,” is the response you decide on, glaring at him slightly, and Soonyoung nods like he expected that; deserves that.

“You have time to shower and change into the clothes I left out; they’ll be best to travel in. I’ve packed everything that you can take,” he informs, motioning to the matching luggage sets by his feet. Matching sets he bought the two of you for the holiday you never got the chance to take; he had to go on a sudden job, and you were too busy at work by the time he returned wearing an eye patch and doing a shitty pirate impersonation while trying to hide his limp from you.

Maybe you’re as much as an idiot as him to have stayed with him for almost a year after that, despite being worried he’d never walk without pain again. He still gets twinges of pain now in his leg, and limps after doing strenuous activity, but he says as long as he can move and his vision remains as perfect as it’s always been, he’ll always be Hoshi. Part of you selfishly wished his eye injury was more severe than it was, then maybe he would’ve quit back then, and you could still be together and as in love as you once were.

But here you are, wishing the man had left when you broke up with him and never showed his face again. Yet, he just couldn’t let you go, and now, you’re somehow a wanted woman and need to flee the country with your batshit insane ex-boyfriend.

“You better fucking explain what you did as soon as it’s safe to sit and talk,” you warn, pointing a stern finger at the man as you walk past him.

“I will, I promise. I’m really fucking sorry; I never meant for this to happen.”

And there’s a lot to be said about Kwon Soonyoung, but he’s never lied to you when it matters.

Of course, with all Soonyoung’s done in his life, he knows a lot of people; a lot of people who owe him for something or the other; a lot of people he calls on to get the two of you safely out of the country and halfway across the world with the promise that they never have to see nor hear from him again. You kind of envy them for that, honestly.

Fleeing consists of weeks of careful travel; of hiding out; of being in such close quarters with Soonyoung that you truly debate shoving him over the edge of a boat on multiple occasions for doing this to you. You know it’d be easy enough physically; he wouldn’t see it coming at all.

But realistically, you’re no killer; you don’t even like killing spiders. Then again, neither does Soonyoung, so maybe that’s not the best comparison. The point is, no matter how much anger you have in your veins at the man for making you give up your entire independent life, to instead rely on him to keep you alive and running from the situation that he got you into without you knowing until it was too late, you could never hurt him.

Well, not that severely; you certainly like to whack his arm in punishment at every chance, and he lets you without complaint. He even readily offers up his limb when he sees the ire burning brighter in your eyes when he forces you into yet another tiny, ratty bed for the night while he sleeps on the floor by your side like a loyal guard dog.

It’s when you make that comparison— Soonyoung as your protective guard dog that would bite the face off a threat, then turn around to look at you with big, puppy-dog eyes as his tail wags and he silently asks to be called a good boy—, that you suddenly find it harder to take your anger out on him anymore, and instead turn away when you’re reminded of the shit show that your life now is thanks to him. Honestly, you think turning your back on him hurts more than your hits ever could, and that both pleases you, and makes your own heart ache further.

You go through weeks of it all, and it’s not until you arrive in some foreign country you don’t know the language of— nor know a thing about— and Soonyoung lets you drive for the first time since this started, that he finally tells you how he fucked up.

“Promise not to drive us off the cliff?” he requests out of the blue, a good half an hour into the drive; with him carefully directing you using the map that his final connection handed him, along with the car keys, forty minutes ago. A connection who pretty much wept with joy when the assassin Hoshi finally freed him from his debt. Well, you assume that’s what happened; you couldn’t understand a word the pair said, but it seems to be the general way of conversation every time the two of you part ways with one of the many people who once owed Hoshi a favour.

“No,” you answer simply, without hesitation. He sighs, and you’re very certain he expected you to answer that way yet hoped you wouldn’t. It’s crazy how, although you had a pretty solid grasp on Soonyoung seven months ago when you were still together, you now know him better than ever. But then again, you guess spending 24/7 with someone while on the run tends to do that.

“At least jump out the car before it falls over,” he says, pouting at you a little; something you only see from your peripheral vision, but you can still feel the full force of. Damn that rabid puppy-dog.

You sigh. “Even though I’d love to punish you and you alone for how monumentally you’ve fucked up my life, I wouldn’t be able to survive without you. I don’t even know where we are,” you respond matter-of-factly. “So, it’s both of us, or neither of us.”

“Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Maybe I should drive.” You give him an unimpressed look that makes him shrink slightly. “Or not.”

“Relax, I’m not going to drive off the cliff.” Funnily enough, that’s all you need to say for Soonyoung to relax, as if he really did think you’d drive the pair of you off the cliff just to punish him. Depending on what exactly he says, it’s not entirely off the table, but you think it’s better not to let him know that in case he refuses to tell you quite yet; you’ve waited far too long for this information to risk losing the chance.

“Good. I never want to hurt you or be the reason you’re hurt. I’d do anything to protect you,” he insists firmly, despite the fact you’ve never doubted that. Even if he has some weird ideas of what you need protecting from and the lengths morally acceptable to go to protect you. But, you suppose for being raised in the world he has, Soonyoung could be a lot worse. His heart is in the right place, at least.

“Then explain why you’ve made me leave my life behind to go to somewhere I can’t even speak the language. I doubt I’d know where we are on a map even if you told me the name.”

“Probably not; I only know because of my connection. I’ve never been to the exact place before,” he admits, and you’re a little unsteady about that; that even Soonyoung has no experience wherever he’s been leading you to for the past weeks. But still, you trust him. You’ve yet to decide if that’s a bad idea or not.

After pausing the topic to check the map and give you a heads up that you need to take the next exit away from the cliff’s edge, and to make sure you drink some water, Soonyoung finally answers.

“So, I don’t know if you noticed, but some people have been disappearing from your life the past months,” he starts, and you give him a quick, flat look in response that makes him smile sheepishly. “So, you did notice.”

“Bit hard not to, Soonyoung.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t deserve a place in your life when they don’t make you happy!”

“Says the man who dragged me across the globe.” Soonyoung doesn’t say anything for long enough that you look over and notice the pained, kicked puppy-dog look on his face. You sigh and look forward again just in time to take the exit he earlier notified you of. “Please just get to the point,” you request, knowing that you’ll give in to something if he keeps looking at you all quiet and heartbroken like this. What that something is, you’re not sure, but you’re not ready to forgive him and don’t want to do something you’d regret.

“The cops noticed that you’re the common factor between the bodies,” he admits in a mumble, still aching from your words, but also reluctant to truly confess his giant fuck up to you. He doesn’t want you to be disappointed in him, and you know that, but you still are, and he knows it. “They didn’t realise there is a common factor between the bodies until they suddenly noticed your name crop up. And since your boss was found dead, they decided they have to act. They think you’re a serial killer and were going to bring you in; you’re pretty much top of their most wanted list now.”

It genuinely takes a handful of minutes for you to fully register and accept the words, before you realise exactly what he’s just told you, and the anger that had fizzled out over the past weeks is back with a vengeance.

Soonyoung yelps when you abruptly swerve the car along the road to cause his head to hit the window at his side; hard enough to hurt him but not damage the glass. “Ow! Fuck!” he exclaims as he clutches the impact spot, and you straighten the car back up to continue along the road as if nothing happened. “I deserve that.”

“More than that.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh, and slowly drops his hands to his lap as he tilts his head back against the headrest. “I know you won’t forgive me any time soon, if ever, but I really am sorry. If I could go back and be smarter about it, I would; I’d set someone up to take the fall and take any suspicion away from you.”

It’s really not at all what he should say, what a normal person would say, but you know it’s as good as you’re going to get without explaining that he should just not kill people if he had the chance for a do-over, and you just don’t have the mental energy to have that conversation.

You just sigh and keep driving.

It takes an hour of driving before you reach a dock, and Soonyoung swaps the car keys for tickets to the ferry to an island you can’t even see from where you stand.

There’s just enough time to get aboard with your luggage and stow it safely in the compartments beside the seats you pick near the windows before the ferry starts the two-hour long journey across the salty water to the place you have no choice but to accept as your new home.

“I don’t know what name your new ID will have,” is the first thing Soonyoung says to you almost an hour into the journey, voice quiet as he leans in close to you with one arm on the back of your seat; playing couple like you have been in order to avoid questions during your travels. Nobody questions a couple leaning in close and whispering to each other, just assumes it’s sweet nothings or filthy fantasies being passed in the air between them.

As much as you’d rather that Soonyoung doesn’t keep so close when you’re so mad at him, you know it really is the smartest move to remain under the radar and look like any other couple exploring the world together, so you never pull away.

“I still think it’s unfair you get to keep your name and mine has to change all the fucking time,” you grumble, leaning into him just so you can poke your fingers into his thigh a little harshly, reminding him that you’re not happy to be playing along— even if the way his fingers absently trace over your arm furthest from his is, admittedly, rather nice; but you’re not going to tell him that.

“I’m not in any government system, you are. People know Hoshi, not Soonyoung,” he explains with a shrug.

Although you’re not happy about it, you know that he’s right, so you just groan softly and lean your head onto his shoulder to get comfortable for the remainder of your journey across the sea.

Upon meeting land, Soonyoung seems a little lost for the first time as he glances around the sparse dock, the few buildings along the cobble street in front of you, and honestly, not much else.

After a few awkward seconds as he tries to gather his bearings, he motions you over to an old rickety bench— which he tries out before allowing you to sit— and leaves you there with the luggage by your feet, before he darts off to talk to a couple of locals standing and chatting outside of what you assume to be a grocery store of some kind, based on the faded, cartoonish fruit drawn onto the window.

It only takes a few minutes for Soonyoung to seemingly have befriended the two middle aged men, talking and laughing with them like old friends, before he motions to you with one hand, the other pressed to his chest. Based on the expressions the two older men turn to look at you with, you just know that Soonyoung is spinning some tale of his endless love and devotion to you.

You do your best not to linger on the thought; especially not the knowledge that he doesn’t even need to lie to them. Soonyoung still loves you, he doesn’t hide it at all, though you wish he would. You’ve spent seven months trying your best to get over him, and you always think you’ve completely succeeded until he looks at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes and tenderness tilting his lips up, and your heart skips a beat, reminding you how easily it would be to race for him. It takes everything in you to stop it.

Not long later, you’re in the backseat of a little car, luggage piled up next to you due to the lack of a boot, and Soonyoung in the seat in front of you as one of the men kindly drives the pair of you northwards across the island.

Up until the man pulls up to the northernmost dock, in another little village— though this one a little more lively and populated—, you really couldn’t imagine how small the island is. It only took an hour to drive from the southernmost dock where you started, to this one. Even Soonyoung seems surprised when the man parks and must announce that you’re at your destination.

Quickly, Soonyoung thanks the man, and thanks to Soonyoung having taught you a few basic phrases on the ferry ride over, you also manage to get out a stilted thanks— which the kind man beams at— before he helps you and Soonyoung gather all your belongings.

Then, not even a minute later, you’re watching the man drive away, and wondering what kind of a life you’re going to live here.

“So, what now?” you wonder, turning to peer up at Soonyoung while shielding your eyes from the early afternoon sun. He’s busy looking around, clearly searching for something, eyes roaming the dock, the people, the buildings, and streets you can see from where you stand.

“Mm, we find– ah! There!” he exclaims, lighting up when he finds whatever he was looking for. And then to your surprise, he leaves you standing there all alone as he runs off with an excited yell of “Bunny!”

Utterly bewildered, and even more so when you hear his name being yelled back, you look over and find him running into the open arms of a rapidly approaching woman. Soonyoung’s arms are open just as wide, and their smiles are matching beams that only grow when they collide and wrap each other up in a hug so tight you find yourself suddenly questioning your own place at Soonyoung’s side. Though you quickly shake that thought away and remind yourself that you’re not at his side, not like that. Not like you used to be.

Part of you wants to walk over to join the pair, but the other part of you doesn’t want to intrude, and you also don’t want to carry all the luggage on your own, so you just remain in place and wait for Soonyoung to return to your side.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple of minutes later that he rushes back to your side, scoops up most of the luggage in one arm— leaving you with your backpack— and slings his free arm around you to urge you towards the woman.

“Baby, this is Bunny!” he introduces, as if that should mean something to you.

“Uh, hi,” you offer awkwardly, not really sure how to navigate this, but at least it seems that this woman speaks your native tongue, so that makes it a little easier.

“Hi, Myla!” Bunny replies, and it takes you a moment to realise that she thinks that’s your name. You glance at Soonyoung and find his expression looking kind of dopily smitten, yet also shy at the same time, so you reason he obviously knows the story behind the name and decide to ask him later in private. “It’s great to finally meet you, and it’ll be nice to have a same aged friend around. Honestly, other than my husband, everyone is middle aged around here; on most of the island really.”

“Oh, husband?” you question, eyebrows raising slightly in surprise as something in your chest settles at the information.

“Yep!” she confirms, lifting her left hand to show the simple silver band on her ring finger. “Five years this summer.” She looks at her ring with so much reverence that without even meeting her husband, you know he owns her entire heart and soul. It’s utterly precious, and you don’t know the woman yet, but you hope her husband looks at his own ring in the same tender way.

“Wow, congratulations,” you say, smiling at her finally, and she lights up even brighter.

“Thanks! You must be tired after the long journey, I’ll show you to your house!” she enthuses and links her arm with yours to lead you at her side ahead of Soonyoung. When you glance over your shoulder at him, he looks utterly content to toddle along behind you, so you just face forward again to memorise the journey to your new home.

It takes literally minutes to arrive at the front door of the cosy little detached house, just up the hilled street overlooking the dock and main street. There are only a couple other buildings along this street— which seems to lead only to a large expanse of grass and wildflowers—, and they’re all stout little houses with enough space between each for another handful of houses. It’s a vast difference from the cramped apartment building you spent the past years of your life in; from seeing nothing but concrete and towering city blocks no matter where you turned. You won’t say it aloud, but you quite like this.

“This is it!” Bunny informs brightly as she hands you a key ring with a couple keys attached, and motions to the door. Obligingly, you step forward to unlock the door and push it open. “Let me give you the grand tour,” she says once the three of you are inside, with the door shut and shoes toed off onto the matted area before the beige tiles lining the entrance hall.

Despite looking fairly small from the outside, the house is actually rather spacious inside, with plenty of windows to allow natural light in and give a spacious feel. 

Immediately to the left upon entering the house, there’s a door that leads to a small storage room— which already contains cleaning supplies, including a mop and broom placed neatly to the side, and Bunny assures you both that she and her husband put them to use only the day before, ready for your arrival. Oddly enough, there’s a door at the back of the closet, and you’re surprised to find a wet room there, but Bunny quickly explains that the weather can get pretty wet here, and that leads to some muddy moments, so all the houses are built with a wet room near the entrance so that mud can be washed off instead of risking it getting smeared along the way to the main bathroom upstairs.

The door coming off the right of the entrance hall leads to the living area; already containing some furniture that Bunny promises is new, but you’re welcome to replace with your own tastes when you want; though you’re pretty happy with what’s already here, and you know Soonyoung just doesn’t care about furniture. The man really had some questionable items in his apartment when you first met and only changed them when you suggested he at least tried to not live like a broke college student taking any free furniture he happened across.

The back of the hall opens directly into the kitchen, which curves around to the left to an empty room that you assume is a separate dining room. Though there’s already a four-seater table in the back right corner of the kitchen with the light from the window on either wall shining down on it, so you really don’t know what will happen with the empty room, honestly.

After going up the stairs in the entrance hall, Bunny quickly shows you the bathroom— with all new fixtures, she proudly informs you—, before glossing over the empty room, and ending in the biggest room, the master bedroom; containing a double wardrobe, large chest of drawers, dressing table, and a large bed already set up for two. The only bed in the house.

“I know you’re not actually together, but I’ve told everyone that you are,” Bunny discloses, that bright tone usually in her voice lessening to something more neutral, even a tinge apologetic you like to think. You look at her and she twists her lips up into a slightly sheepish smile. “They’d kick up a fuss about friends of opposing sexes living together, so this, believe it or not, is the lesser of two evils.”

“Right,” you mumble, understanding her point, but not particularly pleased about it.

“Yeah. Well, happy relationship, I guess!” she claps her hands together then turns and heads back downstairs, so you and Soonyoung follow all the way to the front door to watch as she shoves her feet back into her sturdy shoes. “I’ll leave you two to settle, but come by at around 5-ish, Jeonghan will be awake from his afternoon nap then.”

“Your husband!” Soonyoung crows excitedly before you can ask if Jeonghan is her child and inadvertently saves you from that awkward moment. You mentally thank him for doing something he isn’t even aware of, though keep your mouth shut and let the pair converse.

“Yeah!” Bunny cheers, lighting all the way back up now they’re talking about her husband. “He gets up early to go fishing, so he always naps when he’s back. He’s excited to meet you both and has already planned dinner. You don’t have any allergies or dietary requirements, do you, Myla?” she asks, and it takes you a moment to remember that this Myla is you. The new you.

“No, nothing like that,” you assure, and she nods happily.

“Great, because I don’t want my Hannie to get upset if his careful planning is for nothing. So, see you both at 5, dinner will be at 6,” she says.

“Okay,” Soonyoung agrees easily as Bunny opens the door and steps outside.

“Wait!” you call incredulously when she starts to walk down the path. Bunny and Soonyoung both look at you questioningly. “Where do you live?”

“Oh!” Bunny laughs, and Soonyoung giggles along, both only now realising that she failed to inform you of her place of residence already. “At the top,” she says, pointing up the hill, only one house between you. “I’ll introduce you to our mutual neighbours another time; they’re away this week visiting family on the mainland.”

“Ah, right, okay,” you answer with a nod, Soonyoung nodding along too, before Bunny just waves once more then strolls off back down the hill.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I need a snack,” Soonyoung says as you shut the front door, then he immediately turns and scuttles off to the kitchen.

By the time you join him after making sure the door is properly shut, and familiarising yourself with the locking mechanism and bolt, he’s already cutting up a selection of fruit he must’ve pulled from the fridge, because you know the fruit bowl was empty not ten minutes ago.

“Soonyoung,” you start as you near to lean on the other side of the island counter as him.

In response, he only hums; eyes focused on the shining knife in his hands as he skilfully chops. Admittedly, Soonyoung’s knife skills have always impressed you; it’s just his cooking skills that are lacking. Though he’s certainly improved a lot since you first met and you declared he needed to learn how to cook meals, not live off takeout and ready meals all the time.

“Myla?” you question; Soonyoung immediately falls still, and you notice his eyes widen where they’re still aimed down at his task. “Well?”

“It…it’s short for ‘my love’,” he admits quietly. You can see a hint of pink starting to stain the tips of his ears. “Be–because that’s what I always call you when I talk about you to her.”

“I didn’t even know she exists until today,” you comment, deciding to move past the admittance of sweet name he’s called you enough for there to be a shortened version that Bunny decided to dub you.

“Ah, yeah, well,” he replies vaguely with a shrug. “Just how it is, really.” You don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, and don’t have the energy to try and guess or pry a better answer out of him, so you just hum and accept the piece of fruit he slides across the chopping board to you silently.

“So, do we have some back story I need to learn? Not that I will be able to speak to the locals unless they speak my language, but I should still know.”

“They only really speak the local language here,” he confirms with a little nod.

“You’ll teach it to me, right?” He lifts his head to look at you. “What? If we’re going to be here for the rest of our lives, I’m going to need to be able to speak to more than just you and Bunny.”

“And Jeonghan; you can talk to him.”

“Which is a genuine relief, but I’d still like to be able to go to the local store and talk to them instead of just awkwardly paying in silence.”

“I can do all the grocery shopping,” he offers, pouting a little. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take care of you.”

“I will literally go insane if I don’t get to live as normally as possible, Soonyoung. You’re not doing everything, especially if that confines me to the house,” you warn.

Immediately, he puts down the knife and shakes his empty hands in the air, eyes a little wide in slight panic. “I didn’t mean like that! I’m not telling you that you can’t! You can do whatever you want! I’m not in charge of you!”

“Correct.”

“I just meant…I want to take care of you and do everything. I won’t argue about you taking care of yourself too, of course, and doing whatever you want as long as it doesn’t endanger you, just…I want to look after you too. I’ll do anything you want,” he offers, voice turning soft and tender, betraying his still present and endless love for you.

You just sigh, which he mirrors softly as he turns back down to the knife and chopping board, knowing it means that you no longer feel the same as him, and still have no plan of taking him back, of loving him again.  

“I’ll teach you the language, and the culture as much as I can, but Bunny and Jeonghan will be better at that part, seeing as they’ve lived here for almost five years now,” he says, voice still a little too soft, a little aching around the edges, but he’s trying to not linger on his broken heart for both of your sakes.

“Okay, thank you. And our story?”

“Mm, not sure, but I’m sure Bunny will fill us in over dinner; she came up with it all and should have our new documents ready.”

“Alright.” You nod and push away from the counter after swallowing down a final piece of fruit. “I’m going to go shower, maybe nap.”

“Okay,” he agrees with a nod as he watches you get further away from him. “Rest well.”

Although Soonyoung assures you that Bunny won’t expect anything, you feel rude turning up to a stranger’s house for dinner without a gift, so he obligingly walks around the village with you until you find the local store, and within, a small section of fresh flowers.

Of course, you don’t understand what the shopkeeper says to the pair of you, nor do you have any money; but Soonyoung handles it all, somehow without exchanging any cash, and then the two of you are on your way.

“What did you say to her?” you wonder as the two of you head back toward the hill, the beautifully wrapped bouquet cradled carefully in your arms to not risk damage to the simple yet elegant blooms.

“Hm?”

“You didn’t pay.”

“I don’t have money yet,” he reminds, making you stop still and look at him with wide, shocked eyes. “What?” he laughs as he stops a few steps ahead of you yet turned to face you. “Where would I have gotten cash from, babe?”

“I don’t know, maybe you had some already, or Bunny left some in the house.”

“Nope…well, I didn’t actually look, but she didn’t say she would,” he reasons with a shrug.

“Then why did you agree to go to the store with no money?!”

“I figured they’d be willing to work on a trade system. I know Bunny fixes a lot of stuff in exchange for goods and other services here, so I thought I could offer to do something for them.”

“And what exactly are you going to do in return for these?” you question, nodding down to the flowers in your arms.

“No idea.”

“Soonyoung!” you scold, reaching out to hit his arm.

“Ow! What?!” he clutches the impact spot, even if you didn’t hit him hard enough to actually hurt him.

“You can’t just offer to do things without knowing what they are! What if you’re asked to do something really fucked up?!”

“I mean…I’m pretty sure I’ve already done more fucked up stuff than what that lady will ask of me.”

“I dunno, she kept staring at your arms,” you comment, letting your own eyes lower to where his biceps are stretching the short sleeves of his obnoxiously floral shirt. You’d like to say it’s something Bunny left at the house amongst the items she procured to allow you and Soonyoung to blend in with the local lifestyle easier. But no, Soonyoung has been wearing that same shirt regularly since you first met over two years ago. For a man trained to blend in, he wears some really bold outfits.

“And?” You can’t help but roll your eyes before turning back the way you came from, with every intention of returning the flowers so that Soonyoung doesn’t owe a mystery— and potentially sexualised— debt to this stranger. “Hey, hey, baby, wait,” he calls, whining a little as he rushes forward to gently grab your arm to make you stop and face him again. “What’re you doing?”

“Returning the flowers, obviously. I’m not going to let you get tricked into doing heavy lifting topless just to be ogled and sexualised, all for some flowers.”

For a moment, Soonyoung just blinks at you, then a dumbass smile lifts his face and curves his eyes with how his cheeks bunch up. “You don’t want other women to check me out?”

“Did you even listen to what I said?” you deadpan, unimpressed.

“Yep. You don’t want other women ogling me!” he declares with a bright, dopey grin, practically singing his words in his joy.

“You know what? Forget it, she can ask you to do the macarena naked for all I care,” you decide with a frustrated sigh before stalking back off towards the hill.

You know that no matter what you say right now, the smooth part of Soonyoung’s brain will rule over logic and reason, and he won’t understand that you just don’t want him to potentially get sexualised for a favour. Even if it’s only that he’s stared at as his arms flex in his shirt while he moves the heavy items the elder woman can’t move around the store on her own, you don’t want it to happen without Soonyoung actually wanting to be checked out. You’ve had similar things happen to you so many times that you know that, even if in the moment it’s easy to ignore, if you let it happen once, people will take advantage; and soon, you become an unwilling sexual symbol always touched by unwanted, leering gazes.

Maybe tomorrow you can try to talk to him about it when he’s not caught on the false thought that you don’t want anyone else to look at him, as if you’ve made some claim over him. Even if he still thinks of himself as your property entirely, you haven’t thought of him as yours in a long time now, and you don’t want him to get incorrect ideas about the current state of your relationship.

But for now, you walk off ahead and ignore his delighted little giggles trailing behind you as he obediently follows along to Bunny’s house.

Though, as you get closer to the top of the hill, you slow down to let Soonyoung join your side, then move closer to him, feeling a little anxious over what you’re about to step into. Sure, Bunny seemed genuinely lovely— and very bright and bubbly— but you don’t know what her husband is like, nor do you really know her in any way that matters; so, entering their home to eat food they cooked, and talk about subjects you’re not currently aware of, is understandably making you nervous.

“What’s he like?” you ask in a quick whisper when you’re only metres away from the edge of the path leading up to the front door.

“No idea,” Soonyoung replies with a shrug. “Never met him. But Bunny’s obsessed with him and always has been, so I think that says a lot about him.”

“Or her.”

“Mm, yeah. But I know her, and she’s got good taste in people to befriend.”

“She’s friends with you, and you murder people for a living,” you point out in a mumble.

Soonyoung barks out a quick laugh. “True! Or, well, was true, I’m retired now, baby. My only purpose now is to dote on you.” You don’t have a chance to respond to that— not that you really know what to say in response, so maybe it’s a blessing that he doesn’t wait for a reply—, as you’re now at the front door and Soonyoung’s leaning over the step to knock the pale blue painted wood.

It doesn’t take long for the door to be answered, and the man who pulls it open genuinely makes your brain lag for a second. He, like Soonyoung, is wearing a shirt with far more print than any normal person should look good in— yet both unfairly look great in the busy patterns—, though his is long sleeved and neatly folded up to his forearms; it looks silky and expensive; it looks like it was made to be worn by him and him alone. Yet in complete contrast to the fancy, perfectly creaseless dress shirt, he’s wearing ratty old sweatpants with knees worn so thin that you can see glimpses of his skin underneath. And still, he looks beautiful.

“Hi! You must be Myla!” he says, greeting you first, and urging you in with a wave of his hand. “I’m Jeonghan,” he announces when you’ve stepped inside as requested, and he can carefully hug you— making sure to not press too close to be uncomfortable for complete strangers, or to squish the bouquet in your arms.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to say or do when meeting a complete stranger who you didn’t even know existed until a few hours ago. But at least it’s not a lie. Something about Jeonghan feels so pure, that you have a good feeling about getting to know him; you think he’ll be a great friend given the chance. And you find that you really do want to take that chance.

“You too, Bunny has told me so much about you!”

“Really?” you question surprised, and Jeonghan hums, nodding. “Oh…” You look at Soonyoung and find him very intently removing his shoes, tips of his ears pinkened. You’re not sure what exactly Bunny has heard from the man— and then passed on to her husband— but you’re pretty sure it involves a lot of Soonyoung praising you, if his suddenly bashful posture is anything to go off.

“And of course, Soonyoung,” Jeonghan coos, turning to the man and immediately bringing him in for a hug as soon as Soonyoung is fully upright again instead of leaning over to neaten up his shoes on the mat. “I genuinely didn’t think I’d ever get to meet you, so I’m really happy you’re here,” he says, voice a little softer in a way that makes you look away, feeling like you’re interrupting a special moment here.

“Me too,” Soonyoung replies in a matching tone, holding the man a little tighter. “Thank you for being by her side these years when I couldn’t,” he adds, and now you definitely know it’s a moment you shouldn’t be a part of— even if you’re not quite sure what it all means exactly—, so you decide to shuffle down the entrance hall after putting your own shoes on the mat besides Soonyoung’s.

The house seems to be set up in the exact same way as your own, with the living room to the right of the entrance hall. When you peer inside, you find a comfortable, welcoming room full of personal touches of the pair— including a large photo of the two of them on one wall, both looking so happy and in love as they beam at one another—, yet no Bunny. You venture further down the hall to the back of the house and find her in the kitchen, fiddling with a handheld mixer she seems to be in the process of fixing at the table.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach, making her look up and smile brightly at you.

“Hey,” she replies, lifting one hand to wave, screwdriver within wiggling in the air, before she lowers it again. “Sorry, just give me a minute to finish this, then I’ll be a good host.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind you just being normal and relaxed; I don’t expect anything,” you assure, and sit with her at the table to watch intrigued as she works. “I honestly didn’t even know hand mixers can be fixed at home.”

“Hannie makes me fix everything for everyone in the village. I think he mostly just likes watching me work more than anything,” she muses with a pleased little smile. “I didn’t know how to fix any appliances until we moved here; I was just a mechanic before, so I had to learn a lot, and still am. But I haven’t found out how to say no to him yet. Not that I want to.”

“You really love him,” you comment, amused, but also already endeared with the pair and the love they don’t try to hide for one another.

“With everything in me. I’d do anything for him,” Bunny says, looking more serious than you’ve seen her so far. There’s something in her eyes that makes you think that maybe, she and Soonyoung are more similar than you previously assumed.

“How’s it coming along?” Jeonghan asks as he and Soonyoung enter the kitchen and head right over to the table. Soonyoung takes the seat at your side, resting his arm casually on the back of your chair, while Jeonghan stands on Bunny’s right and naturally puts a hand on the back of her neck, thumb soothing over her skin thoughtlessly.

“I think I’ve almost got it,” Bunny answers, preening when Jeonghan’s fingers squeeze ever so slightly in an approving gesture, a soft smile on his features.

“Well done, darling. Now,” He looks at you and Soonyoung. “Let me get you both a drink. What would you like? We have beer, wine, juice, water, and probably other things too, I just can’t remember right this second.”

“A beer would be great, thanks, Jeonghan,” Soonyoung replies with a grin.

“Only one,” you warn Soonyoung, making him pout. “You’re a lightweight, Soonie, I’m not carrying you home later.”

“Fine,” he concedes with a sigh. “I’ll improve my tolerance now I have the chance!” he decides. “We’ll have boys’ nights with beer involved, right, Jeonghan?” he asks, looking at the standing male with round, puppy-dog eyes.

Evidently, you’re not the only person weak for them, as Jeonghan visibly melts and nods with a sweet, obliging smile, making Soonyoung let out a happy noise. “And what about you, Myla? What would you like to drink?”

“I’m good with anything, thank you,” you reply.

“Beers all round!” Jeonghan decides, then turns to wander off to one of two fridges standing tall in the kitchen.

“Babe,” Soonyoung murmurs, tapping your shoulder with the hand still behind you, so you look at him questioningly. He nods towards your chest, making you look down and realise that you’re still holding the bouquet.

“Oh!” You shuffle to lift the flowers up. “Uhm, we got these for you both,” you announce, making the couple look at you curiously. The way both of their expressions turn soft at the sight of the flowers, and their lips turn up into matching little smiles, makes you feel shy all of a sudden, unused to such sweet expressions turned on you.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you,” Bunny says. “Angel, can you find a vase out while you’re up?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan agrees easily, already lowering and vanishing behind the kitchen island— you assume to open the cupboard where they must keep their vases. “Which one, darling; the white or clear one?”

“Mm, I think the clear one,” Bunny replies after thoughtfully eyeing the bouquet you hold, her hands still holding tools and the in-pieces mixer.

“Do we have a vase?” Soonyoung asks, looking at Bunny, who shakes her head. “We’ll have to get one,” he decides as he looks at you. “You used to love when I bought you flowers, and the ones here are so much fresher than the city we lived.”

“They are, it was hard to pick, even if the selection wasn’t as broad as back home… There, back there,” you respond, correcting yourself after remembering that the city is no longer your home, nor will it ever be again.

“If you like flowers, you’ll love the meadow at the top of the hill,” Jeonghan says as he approaches, and accepts the bouquet when you lift it in offer. “More wildflowers than I’ve ever seen, and the locals have looked after it well for decades now, including planting a bunch of stuff. There’s even some fruit growing up there, and we’re all free to pick it.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” you reply, lips curling up at the thought. “Do you bake with the fruit?” you question, glancing at the mixer shortly.

“Neither of us know how to bake,” Bunny answers as Jeonghan returns to the island to work on carefully arranging the bouquet in the simple glass vase.

“How did your mixer break if you don’t bake?” you wonder, utterly bewildered.

“Oh, it’s not ours. It’s one of the locals’.” She shrugs, and motions vaguely to Jeonghan, referring back to her earlier words about Jeonghan ‘making’ her fix everything for everyone. You just nod in understanding with a little hum; Soonyoung gives the pair of you a questioning look but doesn’t ask what the silent exchange means.

Not long later, Bunny is finished with the mixer and has tidied up everything, just in time to help Jeonghan cook up a truly delicious smelling dinner. You have no idea what they’re cooking, but you’re excited to try it, and have full intention of asking for the recipe afterwards.

You even offer to help cook, but the couple adamantly refuse on grounds of you being their guest and tell you to stay at the table with Soonyoung. Though, even with the pair across the kitchen, conversation between the four of you doesn’t stop without the need for any of you to raise your voices, even with music softly playing in the background from a source you haven’t yet noticed— not that you’ve tried to.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how easy the pair are to get along with; how natural it feels to be in their home and talk and laugh together. It’s more than you expected to have in your new life; someone other than Soonyoung to be at ease around, and now you have two.

Even once all four seats at the table are full and you’re all enjoying the truly delicious meal, conversation ebbs and flows naturally with no awkward pauses. You’re already looking forward to the next time the four of you hang out and tonight hasn’t even ended yet. Honestly, you don’t think you even felt this way about spending time with your friends back in the city, and it makes you wonder if you were ever as close and content with them as you believed.

“Are there any jobs going around here?” you wonder when plates are empty yet still on the table as the four of you just relax in your seats with your drinks— fresh beers for all but Soonyoung, who keeps pouting into his glass of water— as you let your food go down comfortably.

“You’re not getting a job,” Soonyoung complains, pouting at you. “I said I’m going to look after you. You can do other things, just let me earn the money. I made you lose all of your hard-earned savings, so I need to at least pay that back before you earn a single penny.”

“I’m not used to not working, I’ll go crazy,” you reply, features twisting a little with the thought of having nothing to do all day until Soonyoung returns from work to entertain you. There isn’t even a TV in your house, or computer, and you’re not sure if there’s even any good internet service out here, honestly, so you couldn’t stream any shows or movies even if you did have a device to watch them on.

“Don’t you have any hobbies?” Bunny questions, tilting her head a little.

“She worked all the time,” Soonyoung answers in your place, with a dramatic groan. “I always tried to convince her to work less and take time to look after herself, but she didn’t listen.”

“Considering what your job was, Kwon Soonyoung, you were never in any position to tell anyone to look after themself,” you remind firmly.

“Ha, she’s got you there,” Bunny sniggers. “You were the best and the most fearless; you were always in stupid situations nobody else would brave.”

“That’s because he’s a fucking idiot,” you grumble, and she nods in agreement while Soonyoung whines and pouts at your side. “So, jobs?”

“Hobbies,” Soonyoung immediately corrects, getting over his sulking at being insulted to instead return to his insistence that he’ll provide for the two of you.

“Do you like fishing?” Jeonghan questions, and you shake your head, making him pout a little. “I was going to say you can come out on the boat with me whenever you want. Weather permitting, I’m out every morning.”

“Oh, you have a fishing boat?” Soonyoung asks, leaning forward with big eyes sparkling with innocent intrigue.

“I do! My pride and joy,” Jeonghan coos, and tilts aside to lean his head on his wife’s shoulder. “My darling fixed her up for me in our first months here and keeps her in sea-safe condition.”

“I’ve always wanted to try fishing,” Soonyoung says honestly.

You can’t help but give him a surprised little look; you really thought you knew everything about Soonyoung. He’s never been shy about sharing his thoughts and feelings with you, and once you learned that he was an assassin, it seemed like there wasn’t a secret left in his heart around you. Then again, you never knew Bunny existed until today, and the pair seem really close, so you shouldn’t be surprised that there’s more he’s kept from you.

“Really?” Jeonghan asks with an excited little gasp as he sits up straighter. As soon as Soonyoung nods in confirmation, Jeonghan beams and leans forward, closer to Soonyoung, even if the two men are sitting diagonally to one another. “I’d love to have a helper come out with me!” he enthuses; Soonyoung is already lighting up with his own excitement. “You don’t get seasick, I assume?”

“Nope, even in storms, I’m good,” Soonyoung assures, which just makes you wonder when he’s been on a boat in a storm, but you quickly push it aside and decide not to worry about what Hoshi got up to in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore.

“Great! Though I do,” Jeonghan admits, and you notice Bunny sigh softly, looking like she really doesn’t like that her prone to sea-sickness husband insists on going out on a fishing boat every single morning, but she won’t try to stop him. Maybe she once did but eventually relented, though something in you says that she never even tried to argue in the first place. “So, you can drive to the fishing spots and let me rest so that I can fish quicker once we’re still. I usually have to spend half an hour just sitting until the nausea and dizziness goes, but if you’re driving, I can sit the whole time and won’t feel as bad!”

“Sure! I haven’t driven a boat in a while, but I’m sure I can handle it.”

“You can drive a boat?” you mumble in surprise. Soonyoung just looks at you and nods, eyes still sparkling with the thought of going out fishing. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, I guess it never came up,” he reasons with a shrug. “I didn’t purposely hide it from you; I promise I only do that with good reason.”

“Now I’m wondering what you’ve purposely hid from me.”

“Uh…Injuries mostly,” he admits. “Though you usually figure those out when you see me, so I’ve said I’ve been away for work when I’ve been recovering from bad injury, so you didn’t see and worry.”

“As opposed for vanishing for months at a time on a fake job?” you deadpan.

“Yeah?” his voice tilts up, knowing by your reaction that he did wrong there, but he doesn’t quite understand how and is no longer confident in his own response.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“You’ve said,” he replies with a nod, not at all offended. You just hum and face the couple opposite you again; they’re both watching amused. “Can I really go fishing with you?” Soonyoung asks Jeonghan, eagerly returning to the conversation.

“Of course! I’d love to have company! It’s early starts though, out before sunrise,” Jeonghan warns.

“I’m used to that.”

“Ah, right, of course.” Jeonghan nods a little and tucks his hair behind his ear out of his face when the strands dangle infront of his eye. “We’ll count tomorrow as a trial, to see if you really do want to take up fishing with me every morning, and if you do, we’ll discuss pay.”

“Pay?” Soonyoung asks, perking up. “As in a job?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Angel,” Bunny starts softly, making Jeonghan look at her. “You don’t even catch anything to sell, just bring home,” she reminds. Jeonghan says nothing, just continues to look at her; it’s only a few seconds of silent eye contact before Bunny visibly relents with a quick few nods. “You’re so right, you deserve to have someone to help you with all your work.”

Jeonghan immediately lights back up, beaming with so much joy that you truly don’t blame Bunny for caving so easily when this is her prize. He turns back around to look at Soonyoung again, immediately beginning to inform him of their plan for tomorrow and potential catches; while you and Bunny make short eye contact and share an amused, yet endeared, little smile for the genuine excitement shared between the two men.

Due to the men having such an early start, you and Soonyoung return home a little before 9pm, when Jeonghan’s starting to look sleepy enough to fall asleep on his wife’s shoulder despite still doing his best to be active in conversation.

Honestly, you’re pretty tired yourself. Weeks of travelling with your body and mind constantly on guard ready for any potential danger, will take more than just a single mid-afternoon nap to recover from. So, you’re happy to get an early night, and get the chance to rest as long as you want.

In complete contrast, you’re pretty sure that Soonyoung is fine to stay up for some more hours; he’s never needed much sleep. Or, at least, he’s been trained to function better on little sleep than a civilian could ever hope to. It’ll catch up to him eventually if he doesn’t get into good habits now, you’re certain of that, but you know it’ll also take him a while to get out of the habit of relying on the bare minimum to survive. You’ll try to get him into better habits soon enough, but for now, you’re too tired to even try, so you’ll leave him to look after himself.

“I’m going to get an early night,” you say when you’ve both removed your shoes and Soonyoung is already heading to the living room.

He stops at your words and turns to look at you. “Oh?”

“Mm, the past weeks have taken it out of me.”

“Ah, right, right. Sorry, kinda forgot about all that already,” he admits in a little mumble. “Not the whole ruining your life thing; I’ll always feel guilty as fuck about that. I just meant that it’s not normal for you. You…handled it a lot better than I expected, I won’t lie. You didn’t complain or ask to rest at all, even if you looked at me like you wanted to push me over the railing on like every boat we went on.”

“You noticed that then.”

“Wait! You really did?!” he squawks, eyes wide and arms flailing a little. “Babe! I was joking!”

“You ruined my life,” you remind flatly, and his arms drop down, face falling too.

“Yeah, I did. I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’m going to do everything I can to give you the best life here possible.”

“I know.” And you really do; you know Soonyoung will go above and beyond to make you happy, especially if he’s the reason you’re not in the first place.

Your confidence in your response, in him, makes Soonyoung’s gaze round out a little, his lips to turn up a little— adoring. “I’ll take the couch,” he says, not an offer but a statement; already decided, with nothing you can do or say to change his mind. Not that you plan to, you think he deserves to sleep on the couch and let you take the bed for what he’s done. Still, you appreciate it and give him a grateful little nod. “Sleep well, my love.”

You pause at the term you haven’t heard him call you in months, the truth to it, before you turn and leave with a simple “Good night, Soonyoung,” floating in the air behind you and the love in his eyes haunting your dreams.

There’s a lot to be said about Kwon Soonyoung, but that he doesn’t love you with everything in him, isn’t one of those things.

As it turns out, Soonyoung loves fishing.

From the very first morning, he returns home with bright eyes and a bounce in his step, excited to tell you about everything he caught, or failed to catch is more accurate. Apparently, neither Soonyoung nor Jeonghan are particularly skilled at fishing, but they don’t care. Jeonghan has always loved the calm he feels fishing, and Soonyoung quickly discovers he enjoys it too; it’s a huge contrast to the high energy life he’s lived for the past three decades with his work and training, so he really enjoys finally getting the chance to just exist without worries.

On that first morning, they catch nothing between them— mostly due to Jeonghan having to teach Soonyoung everything, and Soonyoung’s willingness to ask questions about it all, glad for Jeonghan’s endless patience— but the second morning, Soonyoung succeeds in his first ever catch, and you know that he’s found what he wants to spend the rest of his life doing.

Soonyoung may not be a great fishman yet— or potentially ever— but the thrill in his eyes, the content of his smile as he watches you eat the food he literally provided, is all you need to see to know he’ll go out every single day to bring home whatever he can, just to watch you eat well.

So, Soonyoung has a job pretty much from the first full day on the island; he gets up hours before you and is out until the sun is high in the sky, working as hard as he can while still taking advantage of the calm activity, and enjoying bonding with his new friend. You’re proud of him, in a way, for being so immediately successful and settled in this new life.

Yet, there’s a sour part in you that finds it so fucked that although this relocation and general ruining of your life— that you spent a decade on your own building in that city— is his fault entirely, he’s the one thriving while you’re utterly lost.

Admittedly, it takes you almost a week to recover physically from the past weeks, as now that you know you’re safe, your body decides to break down a little and force you to feel like you’ve gained the worst flu of your life. But thankfully, that passes with a few days of mostly sleeping it away and only getting up when you know Soonyoung will be home, so that you don’t worry him. You know that he’d refuse to go out on the boat if he knows you aren’t feeling good, so that he can look after you and nurse you back to health. But although you think it’s unfair that he’s so happy when you’re not, you never want to take that from him. You’re envious and hurting, not a selfish asshole.

Yet once you’re all better and have your energy back, you find yourself just sitting on the sofa and wondering what the fuck you’re supposed to do if you’re this lost after only a few days up on your feet.

So, although the house was spotless when you moved in— thanks to Bunny and Jeonghan—, and it hasn’t been long enough to get filthy, you scrub it from top to bottom. Just to give yourself something to do. But there’s little furniture or places for any dirt and dust to hide, so it doesn’t take more than two mornings to achieve.

Thankfully, once Soonyoung is back from work, he always hovers around you. Although it could easily be suffocating that he doesn’t seem to want to do anything but be wherever you are, doing whatever you’re doing, you’re honestly glad for his company. He’s always been good at entertaining you and distracting you without even realising it, so you ignore the ire and envy you feel towards him and just let him exist at your side like he did all those months back.

A part of you doesn’t want to admit how nice it is working side by side with Soonyoung again, cooking together, doing chores together, just being together. Of course, it’s not the together he wants, but he doesn’t push in any way and simply accepts whatever you give him with an eager smile on his face.

Still, as much as the afternoons and evenings are lovely— especially when the two of you meet with Bunny and Jeonghan—, the mornings kind of feel like personalised hell. You’re so fucking bored, you fear you might go insane and head back out on the run in the big wide world, just for something to do. Obviously, you don’t want to do that, but damn, you really don’t know what you’re supposed to do to pass the mornings.

It comes to you like some kind of weird epiphany when you’re sitting side by side with Jeonghan in the lounge at his house, both of you watching Bunny and Soonyoung argue over the rules of the obscure little board game the four of you are playing. Your eyes happen to catch on the large photo of the couple on the wall, then travel around, taking note of all the touches that make their house a home, not just a building.

Suddenly, you realise that although it’s been almost three weeks here, you haven’t even had the thought to change anything about your house, and Soonyoung— as everyone knows— is utterly hopeless at interior design, so you think he’s at home wherever he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder for a knife aimed at his back.

It’s still stuck in your head when you and Soonyoung return home and both settle on the sofa with the soothing tea blend he was gifted by the village shopkeeper last week— and immediately fell in love with upon trying it that night, so insists it’s now your shared nightly drink; not that you’ve once complained, it’s genuinely delicious.

“Soonie,” you start, and he hums questioningly in response. “I want to make this our home.”

“Uh…it already is,” he responds, giving you a puzzled look. “You feeling okay, baby? Did you drink too much wine?”

“What? Shut up, I’m not drunk,” you dismiss as you give him a bewildered, and offended, look upon turning your head to face him. “I know it’s technically our home for the rest of our lives, but it doesn’t feel that way. If we’re stuck here, I want it to feel like home, not just a forced situation. Does that make sense?”

“Oh…yeah, yeah, it does.” He nods and pauses to take a sip of his tea before speaking again. “So, what do we do?”

“You don’t need to do anything. I’d like to do it. I’m honestly losing my mind having nothing to do in the mornings, so having this as a project will help.”

“Ah, right.” He hums in understanding. “Okay, whatever you want, baby. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it for you.”

“I don’t know what things cost here,” you reason timidly.

He’s waving a dismissive hand before you’ve even finished your worry. “Don’t think about that; I’ll handle the cost. You just tell me what you need, and I’ll get it, okay?”

You stare at him for a moment in contemplation before nodding in agreement, a smile lifting you lips. “Okay, thank you, Soonie.”

“You’re welcome.”

Up until the last few weeks, you’ve never known just how much Soonyoung is a man of his word.

Of course, you’ve never doubted him about it before, because he’s never given you a reason to; he’s always stuck to his word or at least had a very good reason and a thorough apology if he couldn’t— always for reasons out of his own control. But in the past weeks, he’s really gone above and beyond to stick to his promise of getting you whatever the hell you want to make a real home out of your house.

Not once has Soonyoung told you that what you ask is out of his reach; even when it should reasonably be. Being on such a small island, there’s a lot that isn’t easily accessible for any of you, and the delivery boats only come over once a week, but somehow, Soonyoung always has whatever you ask for within a handful of days.

Admittedly, you have been a little worried that he’s been using his less than legal skills and knowledge to acquire your requested items, but all it takes is a smile and simple “it’s all legal, don’t worry, baby” from the man, and the possibility leaves your mind.

Thanks to Soonyoung’s endless commitment to making you happy, and all the ways he can get his way— which you don’t want to think about, especially after he went to help the village shopkeeper in a too small pair of shorts—, your home really starts to feel that way.

You’ve repainted the entire house, traded some decorative pieces with other villagers, bought new rugs and blankets, always have fresh flowers— that Soonyoung brings home— around the house, and have even started to think about what to do with the two empty rooms.

You did say to Soonyoung that he should have the spare bedroom, but he refused, saying that if any of the villagers see a new bed being delivered, they’ll know you two are sleeping separately and question your relationship. It makes sense, especially when your shared backstory includes having no friends or family beside Bunny and Jeonghan, meaning no potential visitors in need of a bed for the night; you can’t reasonably argue the logic, so Soonyoung still sleeps on the sofa every night and you both pretend the spare bedroom doesn’t exist.

The empty separate dining room, however, has stumped you. You really can’t figure out what to do with it. You even asked Bunny and Jeonghan, but they use theirs as an at home workshop for Bunny to fix smaller appliances— the bigger ones she fixes either at the client’s home, or at her garage on the village outskirts. They didn’t really have any suggestions either, seeing as neither you nor Soonyoung have any hobbies or interests that needs its own room, but promised to think about it.

Other than the two empty rooms, you feel like you’re doing a really good job with the house, and Soonyoung seems to feel the same way. Every time you change something, he always oohs and ahs about it when he sees the finished product— and often during the process if he manages to sneak a glimpse.

Sometimes, you think he’s just humouring you and doesn’t really care that you’ve found empty picture frames at the market that match the living room decor, which you hang despite having nothing to put in them yet— though you look out for prints to go in them every market. But you don’t really care that he’s faking his enthusiasm. And only a week later, you find a photo of the two of you in the biggest frame; you don’t even have it in you to ask where he got the photo from when you know it was taken over a year ago back in the city, but your chest fills with warmth every time you see it, so you don’t really care about the mystery either.

Before you know it, you’ve been living on the island for four months already, and although you’re not entirely fluent in the language yet, you can hold conversations well enough, and the villagers are all patient and kind with you.

You’re still not ready to forgive Soonyoung yet, but you find yourself waking less and less angry every single day. Some days, you even forget that this isn’t the life you always wanted, but only for a little while. Only until you remember that this isn’t something you chose but were forced into by your ex-assassin ex-boyfriend. And then that warmth growing in your chest gets doused with ice, and you’re left feeling confused and sore until the cycle repeats again.

Earlier this morning, Bunny arrived at your house and announced that the pair of you are going to go get a late breakfast in the only town on the island— though it’s still the tiniest town you’ve ever seen—, located in the very middle of the island less than half an hour drive away. Of course, you didn’t argue the announcement; you’re always happy to spend time with Bunny, and you don’t get much of a chance to do it without the guys due to how busy she usually is fixing everything in the village.

So, the two of you have spent the past hours in Centre Town— as it’s so creatively called—, with Bunny showing you all the best stores and spots to visit, after a homely breakfast at Jeonghan’s favourite café in the town. Bunny says she doesn’t have a personal favourite café in the town, but because it’s Jeonghan’s favourite, it’s also hers by default, and you’re once again reminded of how adorably whipped for the man she is.

In fact, at every chance, Bunny always mentions Jeonghan, reminded of him in the oddest moments; it’s something that used to annoy you with your old friends back in the city, but with Bunny and Jeonghan, it’s just so pure and genuine, that you don’t think you’ll ever get annoyed by it. It does, however, make you more curious than ever about their story. You’ve learned glimpses of it over the months, but you’ve never asked because it’s never really been on your mind before, but now it is, so, you ask.

“Bun?” you call a little after midday on the drive back to the North Village, where you know the two men will soon be finishing work and getting home, and Bunny never misses a chance to tuck Jeonghan in for his post-work nap.

“Yes, Lala?” she replies, using the nickname Jeonghan first came up with for you only two weeks into knowing them, but the pair have since adopted as your new name. In fact, most of the locals have even started to use it, and honestly, you don’t mind. You think you prefer it than everyone calling you Myla, the name that was borne of Soonyoung’s love for you; it doesn’t really feel right for others to use it.

“How did you and Hannie meet?”

“Oh.” She laughs softly, smiling as she recalls the memory and leaning her head on her fist, elbow on the open window frame and cool air gently blowing back the wisps of her hair that have fallen out of her lazy updo.

You have to admit, right now, she looks like the beautiful love interest out of some kind of indie LGBTQ+ movie about finding yourself on a summer road trip with your first gay love that was never meant to truly be. The thought almost makes you giggle to yourself; you know she’d find it funny too, but the two of you would get distracted from the topic by discussing your fake love story, and you’re genuinely interested in her real one, so you keep the thought to yourself.

“Well, you know, typical story. Girl is out on date with some guy, sees pretty boy struggling to get his car started in the restaurant parking lot while his own date watches and whines about it. Girl offers to help, pretty boy is reluctant as she’s on her own date, but girl insists, and sends their dates off together for hers to drive the pretty boy’s whiny date home and far away. Girl finds out what’s wrong with the car and offers to fix it at her garage. So, they exchange numbers, girl fixes pretty boy’s car and falls for his smile the second it lands on her,” Bunny explains, in probably a not very straight forward way, but you understand. Even if you didn’t, looking at the tender smile on her face, you think that you don’t really need to know their origin story to know the important part of their relationship.

“You two were made for each other,” you say.

“Yeah, I think so too,” she agrees, beaming big and dopily proud. “I know you’re not together, but I think you and Soonie are the same, you know?” You sigh and she makes an understanding sound. “He fucked up big time, but honestly, with how he was raised, I’m not at all surprised. He didn’t even have anything close to family until me, you know?”

“You?” you repeat, raising questioning eyebrows. “How did you two meet? I didn’t even know you exist until arriving here.”

“Ah yeah, well, it was drilled into us to not talk about other Company members since we joined. And by drilled, I mean that in the painfully tortured to learn how to not give up the information to enemies searching for it kinda way.”

“Wait, wait, hold on a second,” you rush out as you shuffle a little straighter in your seat. “Just to clarify, you’re telling me that you worked with Soonyoung?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now?”

“I mean, I suspected, but none of you confirmed it, so I didn’t want to assume.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Since we were kids, when the Company took me in; we were raised and trained together.”

“And to clarify, you were an assassin too?”

“Mm,” she confirms with a nod. “Though I was also one of the main mechanics and worked more as a getaway driver. But I was also sent on those kinds of jobs too if it suited my skillset. But Hosh…he really was the best of us all.”

“Right,” you mumble, gaze sliding aside to stare unseeing out of your window as you think about it all. After a few thoughtful moments, you look at her again; she looks entirely at ease, so you know she doesn’t mind the topic. “What happened to you?” She gives you a bewildered look. “You’re here now, have been for over five years.”

“Oh, right.” She nods understandingly, eyes back on the empty road ahead calmly. “I left.”

“What?” you whisper in shock. “Left? Just–just like that?”

“Mm, basically. A few months into knowing Jeonghan, I knew I could never live a normal, happy life with him, so I quit and asked him to run away with me, to where my past wouldn’t ever catch up with us. And here we are. Well, Soon’s here too now, but he’s like a brother to me, the only family I have beside Jeonghan, so I’m glad he’s here and didn’t stay behind much longer.”

“I didn’t know giving it up was an option,” you admit quietly a few seconds later, after you’ve registered her words and what they truly mean.

“For people like Soon and I, they don’t have an option,” she retorts, sounding oddly cocky even with the little snort she lets out with her amusement.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I knew, and still know, so much about the Company that they can’t touch me.” She shrugs, as if it’s as simple as that, as if she really has too much knowledge and material on this Company for them to deem it a smart move to send someone after her.

“And Soonie?”

“He’s Hoshi; everyone’s too scared to even try to kill him.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Yep. They know that if they fail to do it in one blow, he’ll make them regret their entire existence.”

By now, the village is coming into view, and you know that you don’t have much longer to talk to Bunny, because she’ll be off to her husband as soon as she’s parked the car. Your mind is reeling with everything she’s said, but you know there’s something you need the answer to; something you didn’t even know was a question in your mind until now.

“Does that mean he could’ve left at any point, and nobody would’ve gone after him?” You have a feeling you already know the answer, and that you don’t truly want to hear the words, but now that it’s on your mind, you have to ask; you have to know.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Bunny confirms, too distracted driving through the village and determinedly towards the hill to be as attuned to you as she usually is; too distracted to realise that you’re already hurting and her words only make it worse. You don’t want her to stop, not at all, but part of you wishes she’d at least soften the blow instead of being so nonchalant about it. “I mean, they would’ve tried to get him to stay, of course; Hoshi really was the best. But at the end of the day, he’s feared for a reason. He could’ve left if he really wanted to.”

It’s what you knew she would say. It’s what you feared she would say. It’s what you wish she wouldn’t say. But you know it’s the truth.

Ever since Bunny spoke those words earlier, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Although you tried to push it aside, tried to focus on finding homes for the new knickknacks you bought in town, tried to focus on reading your new book by Soonyoung’s side on the sofa, tried to focus on cooking and eating dinner by his side like you do every night, you can’t.

“Everything okay, baby?” Soonyoung asks when you’re both back on the sofa, usual cups of soothing tea in hands for your nightly routine, and your eyes doing nothing but staring off unseeing, mind lost elsewhere.

“Hm?” you reply, forcing your eyes to focus and find him on your left, to find his concerned frown already locked on you. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you’re okay; you’ve been spacey all day.”

“Oh.” You lower your gaze to stare into your mug for a few moments as you contemplate if you really want to confront him about this or just try harder to let it go. It doesn’t take long for you to admit to yourself that you won’t ever be able to let it go, that you care too much to do that. “Did you really mean it when you said you loved me?”

Soonyoung is silent for long enough that you can’t help but lift your head to look at him, only to find him looking at you as if he doesn’t even recognise you. “What did you just ask me?” he whispers incredulously.

“If you really did love me when we were together.”

“What the fuck?!” he sputters and quickly puts his mug on the coffee table, along with your own so that he can take your hands into his and hold them securely. “Of course I meant it! Why are you even asking that, baby? What did I do to make you question my love for you?”

“You chose Hoshi over me.”

“What?” His eyebrows furrow as he frowns. “No, I didn’t. It’s not like that at all.”

“Bunny told me you could’ve left,” you inform. His grip loosens on yours a little. “She left it all behind for Jeonghan; because she loves him and wants a life with him, a future. If you wanted that with me, why didn’t you do the same?”

In all the ways Soonyoung could’ve responded, all you expected him to say and do, you didn’t imagine the lack of response, never thought he would have nothing to say, no argument to explain his past choices. It’s all the answer you need.

“Right,” you mutter and pull your hands away to get up and go to bed without another word. Soonyoung doesn’t try to stop you.

Strangely enough, during the days after the revelation, Soonyoung looks as if he feels guiltier than he did when he was leading you across the globe. And unlike those weeks, he doesn’t try to apologise, doesn’t try to talk to you and earn your forgiveness. He gets up hours before you every morning to go to work like usual, comes home to shower and change like usual, then does his own thing away from you.

It’s weird not having him following you around or using your lap as his favourite headrest on the sofa. He doesn’t even join you in the lounge like normal, and you don’t try to get him to. You’re too hurt by what you’ve learned; that Soonyoung never deemed his love for you enough to leave the assassin life behind. That he couldn’t pick a future with you over killing.

Okay, you’re aware that you’ve very likely grossly oversimplifying it, but that’s truly what it feels like. Without him saying a word about it, what else are you supposed to assume? You’ve barely exchanged a handful of sentences since that night, and none of them have been related in any way, so as far as you’re concerned, there’s nothing more to be said about it.

It hurts, but you think that this might actually be the reason you walk away from the man. You don’t know if it’s possible, if there’s even somewhere else for you to go, because you know you can’t live anywhere else unless you want to be held accountable for the corpses Soonyoung created in the city in his fucked-up method of protecting you. And even if you could find another place, you’ve put too much work into making this house your home that it’d be painful to leave it. But you suppose, not as painful as living in the home you made with the man who never loved you enough to walk away from his dark past.

You feel kind of stuck, not sure what to do, how to move forward now. You know you’re unable to forget about it, to look at Soonyoung and not think about it, so you know you have to do something. Yet, you know that the only something you can really do is turn your back on him, but at this point, he’s such a huge part of your life, that you think that a part of you would be left behind with him, and you’re not sure you could ever fill that gap again. Not now.

It’s really not intentional, but you retreat into yourself in the following days, too caught in your own mind to be your normal self. You’re really not up for even leaving the house, so when Soonyoung knocks on your bedroom door to ask if you’re ready to go to Bunny and Jeonghan’s house for the weekly dinner and games night, you say you’re not going. You’re not sure if it makes your heart hurt more that he doesn’t even try to convince you, just reminds you to get dinner, then heads off, leaving you feeling more alone than you’ve felt in a long time.

Though, not even half an hour later, you hear the front door open, and movement downstairs. You really can’t imagine it’s Soonyoung back already, you’re pretty sure he would’ve called up the stairs to let you know he’s back, but you also can’t imagine any of the locals entering your home without permission, even if the door is always locked. It’s safe here, everyone knows each other and looks out for one another.

Yet now, someone is in your house, and you find yourself wishing you accepted Soonyoung’s offer months ago to teach you how to fight past basic self-defence. 

Just when you gather the courage to get out of bed with the intention of going downstairs to confront whoever broke into your home, you hear footsteps ascending the stairs, and you freeze with one foot on the carpet, the other still on the mattress.

It’s only seconds, but you feel like it drags on for hours until the steps stop outside of your bedroom door, and your heart jumps into your throat.

There’s a knock, and to your immense relief, a familiar voice calls through the wood, “Lala, are you awake?”

“Hannie?” you choke out, chest heaving as your lungs rush to fill, and you drop heavily onto your bed to try and tame the shaking of your body as the fear and adrenaline leaves.

“Mm, can I come in?” Shakily, you respond in consent, and then the door opens and Jeonghan appears with his usual gentle smile. Though upon spotting the way you’re trembling, his smile vanishes for concern to take its place, and he rushes over. “Oh, Lala, what’s wrong? Are you ill?”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head and letting him clutch your hands in his as he sits close to your side, thumbs stroking comfortingly over your knuckles. “I–I didn’t know it was you,” you admit.

“Who did you think it was?” His voice is a low murmur, something like fear creeping in. “Has… has someone said something to you? Threatened you? Made you think they’d hurt you?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” you assure, squeezing his hands. “Just general fear of a person raised somewhere you could never dream of leaving your front door unlocked, or walk the streets alone at night, even the day sometimes.”

“Ah, right, I see. I’m sorry for scaring you; I didn’t even consider you would be scared. I guess I’ve kind of forgotten that fear now.”

“That’s good, I’m glad you have. I hope I do too one day.”

“Me too, nobody should have to feel like this, especially in their own home.” You just hum and nod in agreement. “I brought dinner over, I had a feeling you won’t feel up to making anything, and I think, if anyone understands how you feel right now, it’s me.” You give him a questioning look that he smiles softly at. “Let’s go downstairs, and we can talk about it all over dinner, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you agree quietly, and let him help you up. He keeps one of your still slightly shaking hands in his all the way downstairs into the kitchen, until you’re sitting down in one of the already set places. He sits opposite you and waits for you to have a drink and start to eat before he lifts his own fork.

For a little while, neither of you say a word, though it’s not awkward or tense, it’s still as calm and comfortable as it always is around Jeonghan. You used to be worried that maybe you wouldn’t get particularly close to Jeonghan due to only really seeing him when Bunny or Soonyoung are around, but he quickly proved you wrong, and makes sure the two of you spend time together alone too. Although he’s obviously closer to Soonyoung due to working with him every morning, you think there’s a special kind of bond with Jeonghan that neither Soonyoung nor Bunny can ever understand. A bond only those with an ex-assassin partner can understand. Or ex-partner, in your case.

“Soonie told us everything,” Jeonghan says when over half of your meals are gone. You lift your gaze to look at him but don’t say a word, waiting for him to continue. “Actually, he told me the next morning. He wasn’t acting like himself, so I asked what was wrong, and he told me the general gist of it yet asked me to not say anything to Bunny, because he knew she’d feel guilty about getting the thought in your head.”

You hum to show that you’re listening and understanding everything; that you agree that Bunny would feel bad about it, knowing that her offhanded words have caused an issue between you and Soonyoung. But you don’t blame her, and you know Soonyoung doesn’t either, though convincing Bunny of that is another matter entirely.

“But when Soonyoung turned up without you tonight, my Bunny couldn’t ignore it, or that there’s obviously something going on with you two, so she made Soonie tell her. Last I saw, she was yelling at him for being an idiot,” he muses.

“Last you saw?”

“Mm, yeah, I was already packing up dinner to come here when Soonie started to explain and left just in time for the yelling to start.”

“Ah, right.” You nod and turn your gaze back onto your plate as you push your food around with your fork.

“Did you know that Bunny wasn’t born into the life they lived?” he questions, making you look at him again, confused about the sudden topic change, but willing to go along with it.

“She said they met as kids, but I didn’t know what that really meant; if she was just with another company before there or something.”

“No. She had a family.” Your eyes widen a little and you straighten up, shocked by the information and wanting to learn more. “She was a normal enough kid, though extremely gifted with mechanics and engineering. All that just kind of makes sense to her in a way I, and most people, can’t wrap our heads around.”

“Yeah, she’s really smart.”

“She is,” he agrees, smiling all softly smitten and proud of his wife. It makes your lips turn up into the first hint of a smile that has graced your features in days now.

“What happened to her family?” you wonder, knowing that something had to have gone tragically wrong for Bunny to end up being trained to be as an assassin as a child.

“They were killed. Turns out, her dad was the son of some big scary gang leader and ran away from it all; and was finally found. His wife was killed first, a few days before Bunny was left with her dad’s friend after making him promise to look after her, and then her dad was found dead that same evening.”

“She remembers all this?”

“Sort of,” he confirms with a little nod. “She has glimpses of it, but she was only nine and it was a traumatic time, so she blocked most of it out and never wanted to try to remember that time. I don’t blame her at all; I wouldn’t want to remember if I were her either.” You hum in agreement. “Anyway, it turns out that the man she was left with works for the Company to train new recruits. He usually worked with adults, but he figured he might as well put Bunny to the test. Of course, she didn’t know the first thing about fighting, but she was stronger than the average nine-year-old due to moving around heavy parts and tools so much, so he saw the potential. He only had her for a few months to get her good enough to be accepted, then sent her to the Company, and Bunny’s records were adjusted to say she died with her dad that day; some kind of murder suicide when he couldn’t face living without his wife anymore.”

“That’s…severely fucked up.”

Jeonghan lets out a laugh. “It is,” he agrees. “But there’s a point to telling you her backstory.”

“There is?”

“Mm.” He nods and has a quick drink before responding. “Bunny knows what it’s like to be loved; to have a family. Soonyoung doesn’t. He was taken in from an orphanage before he could even hold his head up. He was raised by people only interested in creating a weapon, not loving a little boy.” Jeonghan takes a moment to frown off to the side before looking back at you, lifting his lips a little again upon spotting your own frown. “He didn’t know what it means to care and be cared for until Bunny arrived when he was seven, and he finally had a friend. She stood up for him when he was pushed too hard or punished for things out of his control; he was their golden child even then, so he was always held to a standard his little body and mind couldn’t live up to at that point. And the worst part is that he thought it was normal, never fought back because he didn’t know any better. Bunny had to teach him how to just… be a human.”

“I think part of me knew that,” you confess quietly. “He’s…not actually the most adept in ways a kid raised with love and morals should be.”

“He tries.”

“He does,” you confirm without hesitation; you’ve never doubted that about Soonyoung at all. Even when he does the most fucked up stuff, you know he tries to be better; he just needs more time to learn how.

“Which leads us to the issue at hand.” You give him a questioning look. “Bunny did once know a family, a life outside of all of that; she knew better; she knew what love was and that what they did was morally fucked up. She spent nine years in the real world, so she knew what it was like, and due to being a mechanic she’s always had the skills to build a civilian life if she wanted to.”

“And she did, because of you.”

“Yes, exactly.” He nods. “But Soonyoung has only ever known that life. He’s had glimpses of the real world on jobs or when with you, but he…he’s never lived it, not really. He’s killed so many people, has so much blood on his hands and conscience, that he probably never imagined anything else for himself. He probably never thought he deserved anything more, not with the unforgivable acts he’s committed on another’s order.” Jeonghan reaches over the table to hold your hand where it lays limp on the tabletop. “I think that the only way he was ever going to get out of it was this way; to protect the only person he’s ever loved.”

“But…Bunny is his family,” you try to reason quietly. There’s no strength to your voice, it’s all being used up on processing Jeonghan’s words, his explanation to why Soonyoung didn’t put his love for you over his life as Hoshi.

“She is, and he loves her like a sister, but she’s not the woman he wants a life with. Bunny asked him to leave with us five years ago, but he refused, even knowing they may never see each other again. It hurt him to do it, but he didn’t know anything else; had nothing to offer the world in return for letting him live a life away from it all. But to protect you, Lala, he’d do anything, no matter what the world has to say about it.”

Jeonghan leaves not long after cleaning up from dinner; he can tell you have a lot on your mind and need time to process, and you’re grateful for that. Though it doesn’t mean you manage to straighten your thoughts at all.

When Soonyoung gets home a little before 9pm, you’re still laid on your bed wide awake and staring up at the ceiling. Though when he comes up to check on you after you don’t answer when he calls up the stairs to say he’s home, you quickly roll over and pretend to be asleep.

Your heart aches at the gentle way he adjusts the duvet around you and presses a kiss to your hairline. The “I love you” he whispers against your skin almost makes you break, but he doesn’t linger, and soon, you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts whirling in your mind and tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

For the first time in all the months you’ve lived on the island, you’re awake before Soonyoung. Though, that’s not surprising when you failed to get to sleep last night, mind too busy going over everything Jeonghan said to you; everything you know about Soonyoung and his actions and words towards you.

You know he loves you, you don’t think you’ve ever truly doubted that, despite what the past week suggests. But for a moment, you let a little doubt of his devotion to you in, and it festered into something so painful that you felt you might break in two. You have never doubted Soonyoung’s intentions towards you before this past week, and you never want to again; it really felt like everything you knew about the world was utterly wrong.

It’s taken until now for you to realise just how much you believe in Soonyoung’s love for you, how much you trust him, even knowing all you do about him. You know he’d never intentionally do a thing to hurt you, so he must have a genuine reason for remaining as Hoshi and not asking you to run away with him until the day came he had no choice but to make that move.

When that thought finally settles, finally makes a home in your mind, and refuses to budge, you know that you can’t avoid Soonyoung, or the subject, anymore.

You know it’s too early to have any type of meaningful conversation, Soonyoung won’t be alert enough yet— not when there’s no danger—, and you have been awake for too long to trust that you’ll make sense, so you’ll have the conversation later. But, for now, you can still make the first step.

When Soonyoung stumbles into the kitchen wearing only his boxers, eyes barely open, and hair a mess on his head, you’re momentarily stunned. You had genuinely forgotten that he sleeps in his boxers, and also how good he looks in so little clothing.

Even now, months out of his past life, Soonyoung keeps himself in great physical condition, partly out of habit, and partly because he likes feeling and looking so good. His muscles have always been practical, have never just been for show, but they’ve changed slightly in the time since you last saw so much of him. Before, he was more compact, strong, yet still lithe, and focused on speed and flexibility for the sake of his work. Yet now, Soonyoung doesn’t need to be fast or flexible for his job, just strong enough to lug around equipment and reel in thrashing fish; and the change in job has really shown in the ways his biceps and shoulders have grown bigger, stronger. Even his thighs are bigger— and they’ve always been strong enough to make you feel weak kneed— to support the strength and stamina he now needs.

For a few long moments, you just gawk at Soonyoung, unable to stop yourself checking him out in the utmost appreciation. But the moment he freezes upon realising that he’s not alone for the first time in the morning, your focus returns and you wave a little in greeting before getting back to making breakfast.

“Uhm…you’re up early,” he comments, moving closer to stand around the other side of the counter to you, hands holding onto the edge and blinking rapidly at you as he tries to force himself to wake quicker, become more alert.

“Mm, do you want to go get dressed while I finish getting breakfast ready? It won’t be long.”

“Oh, right, I’m naked,” he comments a little dumbly as he looks down at himself. You also take the opportunity for one final look. “Sorry, didn’t expect you to be here.”

“It’s okay,” you assure, trying to be as casual as you can when you want to insist that he can wear even less more often if he really wants to. But that really isn’t wise to say, or act on, so you keep your libido under check to not risk ruining things.

“Uhm…okay…be right back,” he decides, and though you’re not looking at him anymore, you can feel his stumped expression aimed at you, before he turns and rushes back to the living room to get dressed into the clothes he picks out of the basket of clean laundry he’s kept in there this past week. Usually, all of his clothes are put away neatly in the bedroom along with your own— mostly in case any locals visit, notice them elsewhere, and question why they’re not in your shared bedroom— but the past week, you’ve barely left the bedroom, and he hasn’t wanted to disturb you, so he’s kept his freshly washed clothes downstairs with him for ease of access.

While Soonyoung is gone, you take a quick break from cooking to splash your face with cold water at the kitchen sink and then get back to it before he can return and question what the hell you’re doing. He doesn’t notice anything amiss when he steps back into the kitchen, and you’re very glad about that.

It’s the first meal you’ve shared in a week, and it’s the tensest the two of you have ever been. Soonyoung, although he usually devours anything you cook for him, chews slowly, and mostly just picks and pokes at his food. You’re not doing any better.

With a sigh, you put down your fork and look at him, making him look at you with slightly widened eyes, stopping mid chew, and almost freezing. “We… Did Jeonghan tell you what he and I talked about last night?”

“No,” he replies after forcing himself to swallow, probably too soon based on the way he winces then immediately grabs his glass to soothe his throat with his morning glass of cool milk once he’s done talking. “But I’m guessing it was about us.”

“It was,” you confirm with a few light nods. “He said some things that made me think about it from your perspective, and I think I might understand you better now, but I’d like to hear it from you, if you’re willing.”

Immediately, Soonyoung straightens up from his position hunched over his plate, nodding madly and eyes growing eager. “Yes, yes, of course. I hate that we’re like this, so I want to fix it.”

“Yeah, me too,” you admit quietly, picking your fork back up. “We’ll talk about it tonight, yeah?”

“Hannie won’t mind if I don’t go in today, not if it’s for our sake.”

“I know, but I haven’t slept, so I need to do that so that my mind is less all over the place for this conversation.”

“Oh, oh, right, yeah, I get it.” He nods. “Please go right back to bed after breakfast.”

“I will, it’s hitting me now that I know you’re willing to talk about it.”

“I’m always willing, I just… didn’t know how to say any of it the other day. Bunny helped me straighten it all out in my head last night.”

“Heard she yelled at you.”

“She did,” he confirms with a pout, whining a little. “I deserved it, but I still don’t like it when she does that.”

“She’s your sister, she just cares and wants the best for you.”

It takes Soonyoung a few seconds of just staring at you and blinking a little too much to be normal before his lips curl up into a little smile that looks so innocently happy that you can’t help but smile to yourself as he looks down at his plate. “Yeah, she is. She’s my sister.” He fills his fork and shoves it into his mouth to eat as enthusiastically as normal, with a smile turning his lips up the whole time.

Although you’re awake and fully mentally present when Soonyoung returns from work a little after midday, you don’t start the conversation yet, and neither does he; he goes right up to shower and gets into fresh clothes like normal, and you continue scrubbing the kitchen floor.

Even when Soonyoung is back downstairs, neither of you bring it up. He just refills your empty glass, gets himself a drink, and then kneels on the floor a little away from you to get started scrubbing that patch of tiles.

It’s the first time in a week that you’ve been around each other without any kind of tension between you; you had really missed it. Existing at Soonyoung’s side has always felt so normal and natural, especially the past months, that you really felt lost without him there. Though you know it was your own choice to take the time apart, you still didn’t like it and are beyond glad to have him back.

All the way until dinner, the pair of you just exist like normal; working side by side to tackle chores he hasn’t been able to handle alone, making plans to change the details of your home that aren’t quite homely enough yet, and cooking dinner.

It’s only when you’re both most of the way through eating and Soonyoung is done retelling his work week in depth— something he usually tells you about every day, but of course, hasn’t had the chance so he’s making up for the missed days, and you really don’t mind at all— that, finally, the moment comes.

“So…” he starts, turning his fork in his fingers a little awkwardly. “What–what did Hannie say, exactly?”

You take a moment to make sure the words are right in your head before you put down your cutlery to give him your full focus. Soonyoung immediately copies, wanting to show you that he’s listening and taking this seriously; he doesn’t need to say the words for you to know as much, it’s clear in the earnest gaze locked on you.

“That you never knew anything but that life. Even when you were with me, or out in the world, you were never fully there. You didn’t know anything more, and…didn’t think you deserved more than you had.” Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, but he does nod a little, silently confirming the words, and making your heart ache something awful. It takes you a few seconds to fight past the sudden lump trying to rise in your throat. “That you couldn’t imagine being able to live a normal life, because your skills were related to killing; nothing you can make a living with.”

“He’s right,” he confirms, tone a little bruised around the edges. “I’ve done so much bad shit, like fucking unforgiveable stuff, things I never want to tell you because I never want you to have that image of me in your head. I won’t deny it at all; it’s a source of fucked up pride for me that I was the best; that nobody would take up a hit on me because they were too scared they would fail and they’d then have to face being on my list. Hoshi…he doesn’t deserve happiness; he should have to pay for all he’s done.”

“Soon…” You reach out to him, but he doesn’t let you take his hands even if he clearly wants to.

“I know, I know you don’t see me as him, but I am,” he reminds. “And Hoshi doesn’t deserve this life, can’t function in this world. He doesn’t deserve you, my love, but because of you, I want to try to live in this world. I just couldn’t see a way out of it, not without putting you at risk.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” Finally, he leans forward across the table just enough that he can curl his fingers around yours and hold on as if your touch is the only thing that can tether him right now. There’s a pain in his eyes that makes you hold tighter, lean closer; keep him as close to solid ground as you can with a table between you. “They can’t touch me, I know that. But you…I knew if I left, they wouldn’t be happy and they’d get back at me by going after you.”

“Oh…”

“I never want to be the reason you’re in danger, and I hate myself that I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“What?” you frown, tugging his hands sternly so that he’ll pay attention to you and the words you’re about to say. “Are you a fucking idiot, Kwon Soonyoung?”

“I mean…sometimes, yeah,” he replies so innocently honest that you can’t help but laugh. The confused furrow of his brow and the sad drag of his features simply melts away at your laughter. His posture straightens and his eyes light up, lips curling without thought as he admires the smile on your face. “God, you’re beautiful,” he exhales heavily, so full of his affection and awe of you that he is unable to stop it filling his chest and spilling from his mouth.

“Ah, shut up,” you argue, cheeks flushing with the sudden compliment, and one hand lifting to cover your face. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I didn’t!” he insists, and when you peer over your fingers at him, you find him leaning closer with that stupid, endearingly cheeky smile of his on his face. “Your beauty is always on my mind somewhere.”

“Shut up!” you hiss and reach out to put your hand over his face this time so that you don’t have to see the love in his eyes as they remain happily locked on you. “I’ve forgotten what I was saying now,” you complain, dropping your hand down to the tabletop; Soonyoung immediately picks it up to place back on his face— though now cupping his cheek— and he contently leans into your palm. You can’t help but stroke your thumb over his skin, earning a pleased little sigh to spill from his parted lips. After a few seconds, you remember what you were talking about and lift your eyes from watching your thumb move against his sun-kissed cheek, to his sparkling gaze. “I have never felt safer than when I’m by your side, Soonyoung,” you inform, honest and tender. Soonyoung’s fingers hold onto you a little tighter at the words.

“Really?” he whispers in disbelief. You nod. “But you were almost kidnapped a week before getting here.”

“You weren’t by my side then,” you remind. “But I knew you would be, I knew you’d be back any second and protect me.”

“What if I wasn’t though?”

“The thought never crossed my mind. I have always believed in you, Soonyoung. I’ve always known you’d never intentionally hurt me.”

“Then why did you leave me because of Hoshi?” He frowns; looking as if the pain in his eyes has weighed him down since the day you broke up with him over a year ago. “If you knew I’d never hurt you, why did you break my heart?”

“Because I was scared you wouldn’t come home to me one day.”

“Baby, I’ll always come back to you,” he promises firmly.

“I know you’d try, but every time you came back injured, even slightly, I was reminded what you did, who Hoshi was, and that you won’t always be the best. I couldn’t handle that; the thought that one day, the tables could turn and you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, to come back to me.”

“Baby…”

“I figured that it was better I ended things and put distance between us, so that by the time that day arrived, I wouldn’t ever know. I could just go about my life blissfully ignorant and never know the day yours ended too soon.”

Soonyoung’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens, yet nothing comes out for a few long seconds. And when it does, it’s a pained type of exhale before he’s up on his feet and moving around the table to kneel on the kitchen tiles beside your chair. When he gently tugs, you scoot your chair back and let him turn your seated form to face him, allow him to securely hold your hands in his and press them to his mouth briefly. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, sounding more broken than you’ve ever heard him, even the day you broke his heart and he cried and begged you to take the words back, he didn’t sound this torn up. “I never– I never realised, never considered it from your point of view. If I had…”

“You wouldn’t have been able to quit,” you remind gently, freeing one hand from his hold to gently brush his hair back. “It doesn’t matter if you knew or not, Soonyoung.”

“No, but I would’ve listened to you,” he says, voice catching a little. “If–if I knew the real reason you broke up with me, I would’ve stayed away. I never would’ve tried to win you back. I never would’ve fucked up like this, and you could be…happy.”

“Soonie,” you exhale and pull him into the space between your knees to curl over him and hold him close. His arms wrap around your waist, fingers gripping onto your shirt for dear life as he buries his face in your stomach. “This is never what I expected my life to look like; I never could’ve imagined running away and having to learn an entirely new language and culture, but I…I’m not unhappy here. This past week has been hard, and it was at first too, but it’s not all been bad. We’re building a life here and…I’m glad you’re here with me. I can’t imagine you not being around, so please don’t do something stupid on the boat and fall overboard into the propeller.”

Soonyoung snorts a laugh and essentially nuzzles into your waist, making you yelp at the ticklish sensation and pull him back by a fistful of hair. He grins at you, cheeky, and a little sleazy, making you let him go to nudge him back. “Hey, I thought we were making progress there,” he declares, pouting as he obligingly crawls backwards as you give him a stern look.

“We were having a nice moment until you looked at me like that!” you respond, pushing him back with your foot against his chest when he leans forward again. He groans dramatically and lets your nudge topple him onto his back, where he lays feeling sorry for himself, staring up at the lazily swirling ceiling fan as you return to your dinner.

In fact, he’s still laid there when you’re done eating, and he makes no effort to move when you get up with your dirty dishes in hand. “Just step over me,” he offers, motioning vaguely with a put-on sigh. You give him an unimpressed look. “What? You step over me all the time!”

“I’m wearing a skirt, pervert.”

Immediately, he smirks at you, and you know he hadn’t forgotten that fact. “And? You saw this morning when I was in my boxers, it’s fair I see your panties in return!”

“That was your choice to walk around in your underwear,” you deadpan.

“I didn’t expect you to be up!” he defends, whining. While he’s pouting, you step over him, and he cheers back up at the view he gets under your skirt when you step over his head. Admittedly, you could’ve stepped over his waist, or chest, or just walked the long way around to get past him, but you’re feeling kind…okay, you just want to tease him with what he can’t have as payback for this morning. “Yes!” he exclaims excitedly, pumping his fists a little, then starts to wax poetic about how pretty your underwear are and how he’s missed seeing them on you, all while you make sure to keep your back to him as you wash your dishes, just so he doesn’t see the smile on your face.

Over the following days, things with Soonyoung are better than ever. That talk you had seems to have fixed issues you didn’t even know existed. Maybe there was a part of you both that needed those things said aloud, you just didn’t realise it on a conscious level. Or maybe the planets have just aligned to put you in each other’s immediate orbit. You don’t know what the exact reason is, but you’re glad of it and don’t have any intention of questioning the new kind of ease between you.

Honestly, you keep expecting him to try and win you back now that things are so good, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t push any boundaries, doesn’t make any remarks, and keeps sleeping on the sofa without question or complaint.

A few times, it’s you who almost changes things, not with your relationship exactly, but because of the sleeping situation, yet always bite the offer back at the last second.

Due to Soonyoung usually being gone for work hours before you’re even awake, you’ve never before seen the way he rubs his aching neck every morning. But the past few days, storms have hit, rendering the sea far too deadly to traverse, so he’s been getting up a little later and you earlier, unable to sleep through the relentless rain and thunder, giving you the chance to see the ache on his features.

Still, he doesn’t say a word and always does his best to hide his discomfort when he realises that you’re already awake and witnessing it. You know he’d love to climb into bed with you every night, and that he’d likely jump on the offer should you give it, but there’s something stopping you. You just have no idea what that something is.

Despite there having not been a storm for a few days now, Soonyoung and Jeonghan are off work. Well, Jeonghan is, Bunny claimed Soonyoung’s muscles to help her fix up things around the village that got damaged during the storm.

Though, that doesn’t mean you’re home alone, not at all. Jeonghan has decided to spend the morning with you at your house, helping you rearrange the living room because you don’t like that Soonyoung sleeps directly under the window with a broken latch. Admittedly, you could just replace the latch— and you plan to once you can get to the hardware store in Centre Town— instead of moving the heavy furniture around, but this is what you’ve decided to spend your day doing, and Jeonghan doesn’t even question it.

At least, he doesn’t at first, but Jeonghan— although an angel and the nicest person you’ve ever met— has this innate ability to just know when there’s something unsaid, and he’s not in the habit of ignoring it. “So,” he says when you join him with fresh, cold drinks where he’s now lounging on the couch to get his breath back from helping you heave the furniture around the living room to its new home. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you suddenly moving the sofa?”

“Oh, the latch is broken,” you inform, pointing to the window opposite you both. “It makes it draughty underneath, and I don’t want Soonyoung sleeping in a draught and getting ill.”

“That makes sense,” he hums, and you nod in agreement before sipping at your drink. “What doesn’t is the fact he’s still sleeping on the couch, Lala.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because you’re not mad at him anymore.” That makes you look at him questioningly. “Sweetheart, you let him sleep down here initially because you were mad at him for uprooting your life and being the reason you’re a wanted woman.” You nod slowly, agreeing, but not sure where exactly he’s going with this and feeling a little off kilter suddenly. “But you’re not mad at him anymore, about anything.”

For a second or two, you just stare at Jeonghan, processing what he’s said. You can see his lips turn up into a little amused smile as his words settle in your mind, and you know that he can see the revelation happening on your features.

“Oh,” you mumble, and he giggles. “I’m not mad at him anymore…at all.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh.”

“Mm, so, going to let him know?”

“I…will think about it,” you decide, still not sure why you’re keeping up that final wall, but you’re not quite ready to knock it down yet.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Jeonghan agrees easily, and pats your knee. “You take all the time you need, Soonie isn’t going anywhere.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He pats your knee once more, then leans aside to put now empty glass on the side table, before getting up. “Come on, let’s finish this and then go out for lunch; I want to show you a café in the West Village I think you’ll really like!”

Usually, you’re at home when Soonyoung gets back from work; you’ve never actually seen him on the boat before, and you especially haven’t been on the docks with Bunny waiting when the boat pulls in. Though seeing the way Soonyoung lights up bright enough to rival the midday sun upon spotting you there waiting, you think you might have to start making a habit of it.

“Baby!” he screeches, letting go of the wheel with both hands to wave at you brightly.

“Don’t let go of the wheel!” you yell back, noticing the boat veering. Soonyoung’s hands immediately return to the wheel with a sheepish grin, and an apology tossed over his shoulder to Jeonghan, wherever the older man is.

Not even ten minutes later, the boat is safely docked and tied up, and Soonyoung is bouncing along to you excitedly. “What’re you doing here?!” he exclaims, and almost reaches out to hug you, but then he remembers that he’s very sweaty, and pulls his arms back to himself with a little pout.

“We were just leaving the store when we saw the boat, so we thought we’d meet you two,” you answer, motioning vaguely to Bunny, where she’s closer to where the boat’s docked and cooing over her motion sick husband as he lays sprawled on dock with his eyes closed and a pout on his lips, soaking up the doting.

“Ooh, makes sense,” Soonyoung replies, nodding in understanding. “Wanna see the fish I caught?!” he asks suddenly and grabs your hand to lead you to the boat, help you aboard, and over to the icebox hidden out of the sun’s bright rays. “Look!” he enthuses, opening the tightly shut lid to proudly lift the biggest fish he’s caught so far.

“Wow!” you respond, impressed, but mostly playing it up just to watch Soonyoung beam and wiggle a little in his place. Even when he starts to prattle on about how he caught it and how he almost thought he lost it, you just continue to stare up at him with a smile, more than happy to listen to him talk about whatever he wants when he looks so thrilled about it. “Hannie says I’ll be promoted if I keep this up!” he informs as he leads you back off the boat with the icebox in his arms— you’re glad he’s slightly behind you so that you can’t get distracted by his bulging biceps and fall overboard.

“Promoted to what?” you hear Bunny question in a confused mumble, but Jeonghan just giggles tiredly, Soonyoung doesn’t seem to even notice, and you’re just content to bask in Soonyoung’s glowing pride, so you don’t let her bewilderment linger in your mind. She doesn’t press it either and instead gets to work helping Soonyoung lug everything off the boat to allow her husband to rest longer.

Of course, you wait with Jeonghan on the dock, sitting at his side and ignoring his teasing grin to instead admire Soonyoung’s strong physique now that you’re sitting safely and can’t swoon over into the sea. Though, you do let that thought run a little wild, just to imagine Soonyoung diving in after you to wrap his strong arms around your waist and heave you out of the water; the way his clothes will stick to his muscled body and water will drip off.

At least, you think about it until Jeonghan nudges you and you realise you’re literally gawping at Soonyoung; mouth dropped open and eyes big and dumb as they remain locked on him. Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, just grins at you teasingly, before he gets up and wanders off to help now that he’s no longer nauseous.

As soon as Soonyoung is finished doing everything he needs to for work, he’s right by your side, still grinning brightly, and all but bounces at your side the entire walk home— even with a heavy icebox in his arms.

“I was thinking, we can try that recipe you liked the look of; the one from the new book I bought in the West Village the other day,” you suggest as the two of you go into the kitchen, where Soonyoung puts the icebox on the counter.

“Really?” he asks, somehow looking even more excited than before; invisible puppy-dog tail wagging a mile a minute behind him. “Oh.” His mood suddenly dampens and he looks a little disappointed all of a sudden, bewildering you. “We can’t. That’s a low and slow recipe, we need to be here to watch over it, but we said we’d go to the hardware store today to get a replacement latch for the window.”

“I’d rather stay home with you,” you admit.

“With me?” he whispers, sounding surprised and awed all at once.

“Mm, no-one I’d rather spend the afternoon with,” you confirm, and just like that, puppy-Soonyoung returns, all but vibrating with his joy and smile so big you think it must hurt. But he doesn’t complain, just silently turns and skips off upstairs with a cheesy love song spilling from his lips as he goes.

When Soonyoung returns from his shower, he’s still floating on his joy, and can’t seem to stop himself from wrapping you in a hug once he’s in the kitchen where you’re preparing everything but the fish according to the recipe. His arms go around your shoulders from behind, head tilted against yours, and his chest rumbles at your back as he contently hums lowly, swaying the two of you in time to his wordless song; and you don’t even consider pushing him off. If your hands weren’t dirtied from the ingredients on the board before you, you’d have likely even put your hands over his arms encouragingly and leaned back against him, but they are, so you just let him sway you both for a handful of seconds.

Without a word— though still happily humming away—, Soonyoung lets you go and moves over to get started on preparing the fish. You only have a few more things to do, and then you wash your hands and just lean against the counter to admire how great he looks wielding that knife, confident. It’s very attractive.

“What?” he asks, voice a little low and one side of his mouth curved up slightly after a few minutes of your silent watching.

“Just admiring your skill, problem?” you retort.

“Never got a problem with your eyes on me, baby,” he flirts, winking at you before focusing back on his work.

“Good to know,” you reply lowly, deciding to flirt back. Soonyoung freezes in shock, then lifts his head to look at you with eyes wide and mouth parted, though you’re already turning away to get the pan ready for the fish with a sly little grin on your lips.

It’s when you’re about to step foot onto the bottom stair ready to go up to bed, Soonyoung already making up the sofa in the lounge, that you really think about it, and realise that you have literally zero reasons for making him sleep on the sofa. Especially when you’re adult enough to admit to yourself that you don’t want him to sleep on the sofa anymore.

Determinedly, you return to the living room, just in time to see Soonyoung peel his t-shirt off. You short-circuit for a moment, though manage to get yourself back on track just as his hands reach for the tie of his shorts. “Soonie.”

Immediately, his head jerks up to look at you in surprise. “You okay?” he checks, hands dropping to his side and eyebrows furrowing with the start of worry. “Is there a bug? If it’s wider than my pinkie and has wings, I’m sorry but your room belongs to it now.”

“No, no bug,” you assure with a soft laugh. “Come to bed.” Instantly, his eyes bulge and his mouth audibly pops open. “Hm?” You don’t wait for him to respond, and instead turn and head upstairs, though you’re barely off the top one before you hear him let out a victorious noise before rushing around— likely to tidy everything up.

By the time you’re done in the bathroom and have returned to the bedroom wearing one of his t-shirts like normal, Soonyoung’s perched on the edge of the bed, still wearing his shorts, and looking like he’s never seen the room before.

“Aren’t you going to lay down?” you muse as you cross the room to climb up onto the bed and get comfortable in your usual place.

“Is that my shirt?” he whispers dumbly. You just nod. “You’re actually going to kill me,” he declares before getting up. “Gotta brush my teeth.” You only hum, and then he rushes off to the bathroom.

When Soonyoung returns a few minutes later, he shuts the door quietly behind him and kicks off his shorts, before padding over and climbing into the empty gap beside you a little tentatively. Though when you only watch him quietly and don’t show any sign of discomfort, he relaxes and turns the lamp off before settling down.

There’s probably a lot that could be said right now, a lot that should be said, but you don’t say a word, neither does Soonyoung. You both slowly fall asleep more content than you have been for a long time.

It really shouldn’t surprise you at all, you know how affectionate Soonyoung is, but for a split second upon waking up to the sound of an alarm ringing, the body pressed against your back and secure arm around your waist almost makes you panic.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung’s low, rough morning voice murmurs directly behind you before he lets you go to roll away and turn off his alarm clock— you hadn’t even noticed last night that he brought it upstairs. Without thought, you whine and blindly reach behind you to grab his arm and pull him back to you. Soonyoung chuckles, burying his face in your hair, and holds you tighter, not at all complaining about the silent demand for affection.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, comfy and content in Soonyoung’s embrace, almost dozing back off, but you know it can’t be that long really; he’s always been good at tracking time, even with his back turned to the clock.

“I gotta go to work, baby,” he announces softly, trying to untangle himself from you, but you lace your fingers with his and shuffle backwards until you’re as close to him as possible. “Baby,” he chuckles, sounding far too happy about this to even pretend to argue.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” You curl your left arm over his, bending his with your own so that you can tuck your connected hands up under your chin.

“Want me to stay?” You nod and he lets out a deliriously happy little giggle that makes you almost giggle too, he sounds so cute. “Okay, I’ll call out from work today,” he decides, making absolutely zero attempt to even pretend to be against the idea, not when you’ve said you want him to stay. He’d do pretty much anything you say, honestly, especially if it involves getting to hold you for longer.

Pleased, you hum in approval, letting your eyes close with every intention of going back to sleep. Unfortunately, your conscience kicks in and makes you unable to truly agree with the plan. With a disappointed exhale, you loosen your hold, shuffle away, and give him his arm back.

“Baby?” he questions utterly bewildered and pouting slightly when you blearily peer over your shoulder at him. “I’m not going to try anything, we can just cuddle,” he promises, making you smile amusedly; you’d laugh but you’re still too tired.

“Bunny would tell us off if you stay home without good reason,” you point out.

“Being with you is the best reason!” he defends, looking genuinely offended that you’d say otherwise.

“Not when it means Han going out to sea alone; you know how protective she is.” Soonyoung deflates and rolls face down to groan into his pillow. “Exactly, so, off you go. See you later,” you say, and take the chance to pat his ass— it’s right there, it’s impossible to resist—, before you turn back over and get comfy.

“Touch my ass again,” he requests, then cracks up when you blindly reach back to hit him, though he’s already rolled out of bed, so you just hit empty air. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Go back to sleep, I’ll see you later, baby.” You just hum, and then he’s out of the room and making sure to shut the door behind him so that he doesn’t disturb you any further as he gets ready for the day.

After waking up pressed together the first morning after sharing the bed, it seems only natural to cuddle every night. It happens without any discussion too; you just tuck up against Soonyoung’s side the second night, and he doesn’t hesitate to put his arm around you as if it belongs there.

It’s not just at night that the affection reappears at full force as if you never broke up and it was forced to a stop. At every available opportunity, Soonyoung approaches you to put his arms around you and hold you close. The first time you curl up against his side on the sofa, he gets so happy that he doesn’t stop giggling, and consequently ruins the calm cuddling, causing you to move away from him; but he calms— mostly— and pouts so cutely at you that you can’t fight the urge to crawl right back into his arms.

Still, even with sharing a bed every night, even with holding one another at any given chance, even with moments where you’re certain Soonyoung wants to lean in and kiss you just as much as you want him to, things don’t really change. The two of you are in some kind of weird, unlabelled middle ground where you can’t realistically say “we’re just friends” anymore, but you also can’t say you’re in any kind of romantic relationship. Which, you don’t really mind, you’re genuinely enjoying all the affection and don’t really see the need to change things.

But once again, it’s Yoon Jeonghan who puts everything in motion.

“No! That’s cheating!” Soonyoung accuses, pointing a finger at Bunny from feet away, the pair standing in the middle of Bunny and Jeonghan’s living room, arguing yet again over the rules of a game. Soonyoung always accuses Bunny of cheating, Bunny argues back because she hates the false accusations, and you and Jeonghan just watch it all happen and wait for the moment Soonyoung realises he just hasn’t understood the game, again.

You’d think that after this many weekly game nights, Soonyoung would understand the rules of the games the four of you always play, but nope; the man can kill a person 57 ways with a piece of string, but he can’t understand the rules of a game with a minimum recommended age of 8 years old.

“So,” Jeonghan starts quietly, leaning closer to you where he’s sitting on your left on the sofa, bowl of popcorn in the space between you and almost gone thanks to the weekly dramatic entertainment of the pseudo-siblings before you.

“What?” you wonder, giving Jeonghan a suspicious side eye.

“Just wondering when you’re going to tell him you’re still in love with him.” He shrugs and tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth. You blink at him a few times, then ever so slowly, turn your head forward to look at Soonyoung.

And then it hits you, right here and now, that Jeonghan’s right; you’re in love with Soonyoung. You’re still in love with Soonyoung.

You realise that you never fell out of love with the man, not really, you just convinced yourself you had because it was for the best. Admittedly, you weren’t wrong when you first decided to stop loving him; it really was better for you then to lose all feelings for the man. But it’s been over a year since then. It’s been months since you stopped being angry at him, since you let him back in. Not that you were doing a very good job of keeping your heart closed to him before then.

“Oh,” you whisper on an exhale, and hear Jeonghan’s pleased little giggle to your left, but you don’t pay it any attention, your sole focus is on Soonyoung and Soonyoung alone. Because Jeonghan is right— again— about you being in love with Soonyoung, and he’s right in his implication that you should tell Soonyoung. Without a thought besides “fuck it”, you decide to follow his words. “Soonie!”

Immediately, Soonyoung turns his head to look at you, his expression turning so soft and adoring, smile lifting his previously angrily pouting lips. “Yeah, baby?”

“Let’s get married.”

Jeonghan cracks up, tilting aside and leaning on the arm of the couch to his left with how sudden and hard he starts to laugh. “Not what I meant!” he wheezes.

Though, again, you’re not paying his amusement any attention and are instead focused on Soonyoung. Soonyoung who doesn’t seem to be fucking breathing. Worried, you get up and rush over to hold his face as he keeps his eyes glued to you, and his hands instinctively lift to hold onto your wrists. “Breathe, baby,” you encourage, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks.

Thankfully, Soonyoung is prompted to act like a functioning human and sucks in a harsh breath, coughs on it a little, but quickly returns to breathing properly. “Y–you want to marry me?” he whispers out, sounding choked and disbelieving. You nod, smiling a little, encouragingly. “Because of the locals? Because of the story we’re together and–and marriage is the next natural step in a story like that?”

“I truly, wholeheartedly, without hesitation, can say that I do not give a fuck what they think, Soonyoung,” you assure, amused by his reaction. You didn’t know how he’d react— honestly, you haven’t ever thought about proposing to him before, so it’s understandable you’ve never considered his reaction before— but you’re very surprised by his reaction and never would’ve expected it.

“You don’t?”

“Not in the slightest bit.”

“Then…why?”

“Why did do I want to marry you?” He nods, looking so adorably lost, yet hopeful at the same time. “I want to marry you, Kwon Soonyoung, because I am so violently in love with you.”

Soonyoung barely gets a surprised, soft inhale out, before he’s surging in to kiss you. Of course, you don’t hesitate to respond, and wrap your arms around his neck, his own winding around your waist as he melts against you.

“Ew!” Bunny exclaims, though she sounds fondly amused, while her husband cheers and claps from the sofa in between his pleased giggling. “Okay, great, we’re happy for you, congrats, now either detach and lets finish the game, or go fuck in your own house.”

You and Soonyoung do as requested and stop kissing, chests heaving as you lock eyes, and then immediately and silently decide to rush out of their house, with the pair laughing and catcalling behind you both.

“Baby, baby, baby,” Soonyoung calls, slowing and making you slow down too, only a few metres away from your house.

“Yes?” you reply, turning to look at him, feeling impatient now that you’ve got the chance to have your way with the unfairly attractive man for the first time in over a year, but always willing to slow down and hear him out when he requests it.

“Are you sure about this?” he checks, turning a gentle kind of serious as he gently brushes your hair away from your face with the hand not pressed palm to palm with your own.

“Fucking?” you ask bewildered.

“No,” he chuckles. “I know you’re good with that, we’re great at that together.” You nod in enthusiastic agreement— you two really did have a great sex life together back then—, and he giggles at your reaction. “Glad you agree.”

“I do, so let’s go inside and—”

“No, no, baby, I’m not done.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t mean are you sure about the sex, I meant us. You just asked me to marry you, and I want to make sure that you really mean it; spending the rest of our lives together.”

“Of course I do,” you assure and press a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, and I want this to be real, not just a cover story.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, I’ve always wanted that.”

“I know.” You frown, guilty and apologetic, but he kisses your head and you know he forgave you long ago, if he was even holding it against you in the first place. Knowing Soonyoung, he never blamed you, was never upset with you, just the situation he got you both into, and upset at himself. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realise that I never stopped loving you.”

“Oh… really? I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that. You’re a lot of things, Kwon Soonyoung, but capable of doing anything to make me hate you, isn’t one of them.”

“Good.” Satisfied with your answers, he presses his lips to yours in a kiss that feels like a promise for a long, happy future together, yet also a threat that you won’t be able to walk in the morning without your thighs shaking. And honestly, you’re more than okay with that.

Kwon Soonyoung is a lot of things: cheeky, handsome, fun; still a lightweight with alcohol, great in bed, terrible with technology; in wonderful physical condition, quick on his feet, observant; once a highly sought after assassin, now a mediocre fishman, and awful at board games. But mostly, he’s the man you love with everything in you, and you’re more than happy to spend the rest of your life by his side.

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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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