Thank You @michichung For This Req!!!

MINGYU for Calvin Klein

SERIES MASTERLIST

ONE. band aids

TWO. what could have been

THREE. subtle snuggles and light snores

FOUR. let’s get you home, princess

DRABBLE #1: your hands in mine

FIVE. the one

DRABBLE #2: breathless

SIX. hustle and bustle

SEVEN. if you can’t believe

EIGHT. for all the wrong reasons

NINE. grief

TEN. moonlight

EPILOGUE

wonlouvre. 2021. DO NOT REPOST.

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you. 

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?” 

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

 “There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument. 

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were. 

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd. 

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you  smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt. 

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river. 

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river. 

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. 

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying. 

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice. 

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!” 

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch. 

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai. 

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see. 

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds. 

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on. 

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!” 

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.” 

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands. 

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along. 

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see. 

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work. 

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽, 

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.” 

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says. 

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?” 

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside. 

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up. 

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort. 

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power? 

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days. 

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off. 

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing. 

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you. 

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower. 

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. 

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants. 

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽, 

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin. 

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.” 

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes. 

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers. 

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting. 

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles. 

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway? 

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn. 

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him. 

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace. 

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him. 

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around. 

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him. 

But, like you said, that was the plan. 

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square. 

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him. 

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet. 

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first. 

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too. 

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him. 

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile. 

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made. 

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces. 

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

 “I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽, 

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with  his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile. 

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own. 

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

전원우 // Jeon Wonwoo Fic Recsᡣ𐭩 Part II

우리였기에 아름다웠고 작은 미움 하나 없는 사랑이라~

Main Recs Masterlist

➣Part I // Part II

MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~

“Meet Cute of the Century” by @lovelyhan

Fem!reader || Idol au, strangers to lovers, meet cute, mild angst, smut || W.C: 25.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

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“First Snow” by @onlymingyus

Fem!reader || CEO x Single mom assistant, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 33k

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“In Front Of Me” by @wonustars

Fem!reader || best friends to (?), angst, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 40.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

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“Bucket of Happiness” by @thedensworld (Part 3 of Falling Flowers series)

Fem!reader || Friends to lovers, angst, fluff || W.C: 10k+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･After the divorce settled, you immediately moved to Canada for your treatment. Meanwhile, Wonwoo has to run away from his parents who couldn't stop forcing him to get married.

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“Sucker (For You)” by @vitaminkyeom

Fem!reader || College au, best friends to lovers, humour, fluff || W.C: 14.5k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･First year in college was always known to be stressful with all the assignments to complete, parties to enjoy and lectures to attend. But for you, it was a whole different type of stress: the conflicting (and growing) feelings of affection towards your best friend. Falling for him isn’t an option, but neither is avoiding him. So what do you do when you are down bad for the one and only Jeon Wonwoo? Or, in which, one drunk party sends you hurtling down a rollercoaster of love for your best friend.

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“A Winter Interlude” by @wondernus

Romance, coworkers to lovers, drama, light angst || W.C: 11.3k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･maybe this is meant to be an interlude – an unforeseen passing moment in each other’s timelines. but with the stroke of a conductor’s baton, the symphony lands on the fermata hovering above the note. do we allow this interlude to become something longer than a short period in our lives, or do we end it after all of it is over?

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“I Found Love in Your Smile” by @wonlouvre

[Series] || Modern royalty au, arranged marriage, fluff, angst || Parts: 10 (+epilogue) || Status: Completed

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“Daylight” by @moonscriptsx

Fem!reader || Coworkers to friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, smut || Parts: 2 || Total W.C: 27.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.

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“Right Where You Left Me” by @tonicandjins

Exes to lovers, smut || W.C: 8.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in which wonwoo leaves and takes your heart with him. three years later, you're in another city, but tragically, right where he left you.

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“Catnaps” by @wheeboo

Gn!reader || High school au, classmates to lovers, fluff, angst, humour || W.C: 8.6k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in which you volunteer at the local cat shelter with your crush.

⤷“Catnaps (with you)” (Part 2 of Catnaps)

Gn!reader || college au, est.relationship, slice of life, fluff, hurt/comfort, humour || W.C: 10.1k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･in which you revisit the cat shelter with wonwoo during autumn break.

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“Overset” by @drunk-on-dk

Sci-fi au, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 9.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Increasingly becoming cognizant of the worlds surrounding him, W0NW00, an AI so carefully wired and generated with the purest intentions even has the potential to become jaded. How can such a consumeristic world be so cruel when all he once knew was the joys of 53V3NT33N? This new understanding makes him unfamiliar to fans; his creator sending him to you, a trusted developer of LEVEL 1 robots, in hopes that you can reverse the sudden changes in W0NW00’s conscious. Are you part of the system W0NW00 is learning to become adverse to? Or will your presence help remind him of the world he once only had knowledge of?

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“Closer” by @hannieehaee

Afab!reader || Friends to lovers, smut || W.C: 12.9k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

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“April Shower” by @sluttywoozi

Fem!reader || Romance, meet cute, love at first sight, smut || W.C: 12k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.

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“The Shattered Camera” by @puppetwritings

[Series] || Fem!reader || paparazzi x celebrity au, comedy, fluff, angst || Parts: 11 || Status: Completed

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Wonwoo already had enough on his plate as it is—proving his parents wrong, making a living, fighting his just conscience—and with you in the picture, nothing could possibly go more wrong. Or could you be his ticket to the good life that he wanted?

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“Amour-Haine & Co.” by @wonwoosthetic

[Series] || Fem!reader || Office au, enemies to lovers, smut, angst || Parts: 18(as of now) || Current W.C: 166.3k || Status: Incomplete

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･Six years. Six long years have you been working side-by-side with your father. Balancing studying at university while playing his right hand throughout it all without ever complaining about how hard it was, but rather always putting 200% into everything you did. You helped him grow the company to where it now was. And now, after the many ups and downs you have shared, he retires only to let the company get bought by some young wannabe Jeff Bezos, who thinks money and looks is everything he needs to get him through life. If someone thought you’d just let this pass and work as Jeon Wonwoo’s side chick… they would be wrong. So, let the games begin.

Please let me know if the links have any problems~

Me? Jealous? Pfft!

Pairing: Minghao x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, a tinge of angst

Synopsis: in which you were jealous but your boyfriend knew how to exactly comfort you.

Why has he standing with her for over 10 minutes?! It wasn't like it mattered to you. Pfft! of course not.

You've known your boyfriend to be very respectful, so it wasn't like you didn't trust him, I mean he clearly carried the Victoria's secret shopping bag that obviously belonged to you. It was as if 'I have a girlfriend' was written in his forehead. But it didn't help that some thoughts were starting to invade your mind.

She was refined. Her back straight, making you suddenly aware of your posture. Her voice quiet, making you too conscious about you naturally outgoing nature.

And most importantly, she embodied everything you wish you were. But this wasn't the time to go through internal monologue of how you think she's better than you! She has been talking to your boyfriend like she has known him for 30 years.

You were starting to go over 30 ways to commit murder without getting caught but your boyfriend finally made his way to you, after, in your opinion, a conversation that has been going on for too long.

"I'm sorry if I made you wait." He smiled guiltily.

"It's fine." Your sudden quietness caught him off-guard, and for someone as perceptive as Minghao, it wasn't hard to guess that something was off.

The store names in the mall were suddenly very interesting and it was painfully obvious that you were avoiding his gaze.

"Baobei, are you upset?" He knew you were weak for that nickname and it was apparent from the rosy tint of your cheeks, but you were giving one-word responses, which wasn't like you at all.

"No, Why would I be?" You manged to fake a smile which pretty much looked like a grimace.

You scoffed "Me?Jealous? Pfft!"

"Did anyone bother you while I was talking to [girl's name]?"

Oh, so he also knew her name?

Unfortunately for you, he noticed the furrow of your eyebrows when he said her name.

"Or is it me?...Are you jealous?"

He raised an eyebrow at how defensive you suddenly got. You two were back to his car and as soon as you closed the doors, you knew he had something to say.

"Baobei, talk to me. You know I don't like leaving things unresolved." His tone was serious but still gentle.

"No- No, It's not something to resolve. It's silly and I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing." You bit at your fingertip.

"It isn't nothing if it makes you upset, please tell me." He grabbed both your hands.

"She was just so...you. She is everything I want to be and that just made me a bit insecure and it really isn't your fault and the fact that I didn't know what had you so focused on what she said made me feel...I'm sorry I'm being childish." You look down at your hands.

He raised your chin with two fingers and slowly pulls you closer. "First of all, she is the choreographer of our new comeback. She wanted to ask about my input for the choreography. And what do you mean she's so me? You're a part of me that could well enough define who I am. No other person could ever replicate whatever you could do to make me feel how I do."

At this point these words were too much for you, and how he described you so romantically wasn't helping in how red your face was getting.

"Yes- I mean no and um you know-" You could no longer make sense of what you can say. You were too hyper-aware of the distance between you two.

He smiled knowing the buttons he pushed and decided to pull the final move.

He pulled you in and his lips landed on yours. You grabbed onto his shoulders and started kissing him like it was the last time. The slow yet desperate rhythm of both your lips was too much for you and when you suddenly pulled away a realization dawned upon you.

He could talk to a thousand girls and only you could get to devour his lips that way. You smiled to yourself at the thought but you instantly snapped out of it at your boyfriend's voice.

"Was it that good?"

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

Perfect Pairing | C.Sc

Pairing: Mafia Seungcheol! x Agent Reader

Genre: Action, suggestive, slow burn

Words Count: 12k

Summary: Mafia Seungcheol has to face a fact that he found his bestfriend's long-searched sister. However she is a NIS agent who was ordered to terminate him.

Author Note: BOO! It's been a long time since the last time i left a note hehe.. Here's another Seungcheol's action ff because y'all love it, i love it, and we love strong-masculine but gentle Seungcheol 👉👈 i just wanna say thank you very much for all the support you guys has been given to me. I'll work harder to make a better story in the future. Love you all🤍

Seungcheol sat on the plush couch, his eyes fixed on the figure sprawled across his bed. She was the only one, aside from himself, who had the privilege of laying there. Yet, the questions that loomed large were 'Who is she?' and 'Why had she ended up in his club, drugged and unconscious?' 

For Seungcheol, it was routine to make the rounds, keeping a watchful eye over his nightclubs. He was the guardian, determined to shield his establishments from any foul play. He harbored no forgiveness for those who dared to tarnish what he considered his babies – his clubs. So, when he stumbled upon the woman, tucked away in a corner near the office, his suspicions flared. Her state, drugged and vulnerable, was the last thing Seungcheol wanted associated with his club.

"Who is she?" Seungcheol's voice cut through the air, halting his steps. He turned to fix his gaze on the manager, who fidgeted under his scrutinizing stare. Joshua, Seungcheol's right-hand man, approached the woman and confirmed their worst fear.

"I think she's just a lost customer, sir. We'll take care of her," the manager hurriedly explained, already signaling the staff to attend to her.

But Seungcheol wasn't ready to let it end there. He took a deliberate step forward, his pulse quickening as he locked eyes with a face that stirred something within him. The words caught in his throat, his astonishment rendering him momentarily speechless. Joshua, sensing a shift in his boss's demeanor, followed Seungcheol's gaze to the woman's face. Surprise registered in Joshua's eyes, prompting him to act swiftly.

"We'll take care of her," Joshua instructed the manager, while signaling Seungcheol's bodyguard to prepare to transport her. The pieces of this unexpected puzzle were falling into place, painting a picture that Seungcheol hadn't foreseen, Yoon Jeonghan's sister. 

Yoon Jeonghan, Seungcheol's steadfast companion, had been inseparable from him and Joshua since their high school days. Five years prior, a tragic twist of fate claimed Jeonghan's life in a deadly rivalry, all for a monumental deal with a club in Seoul. That night, half of the association's spirit seemed to vanish, and Seungcheol couldn't deny the immense role Jeonghan played in his current success. Despite their decade-long friendship, Jeonghan was a mystery to Seungcheol. He knew little about the man, except for the fact that Jeonghan had once mentioned having a younger sister back in their high school days.

"She might be the female version of Yoon Jeonghan," Jeonghan had mused during their time at the Judo club, informed everyone that his sister was a judo athlete. It was a memory that now surfaced in Seungcheol's mind. 

A knock jolted Seungcheol from his reverie. He opened the door to find Joshua standing there, bearing a file brimming with information about the girl they had just brought to the house.

Seungcheol's brow furrowed, concern etched across his face. "When was the last time she met her brother, Jeonghan?" he inquired, a note of urgency in his voice.

Joshua's reply held a solemn weight, "Five years ago, when Jeonghan flew to the States." There was a palpable sense of distance in those words, a span of time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Seungcheol couldn't help but wonder about the vast expanse of experiences that must have unfolded in those five years. He leaned in, his gaze locked onto Joshua, eager for any shred of insight into the woman's life.

Joshua's voice held a touch of uncertainty as he continued, "She might not know about the business Jeonghan's been doing." It was a possibility that hung heavy in the air, a question mark that loomed over the narrative. Seungcheol's mind raced, concocting scenarios and speculations. Why was she in his club? He couldn't shake the feeling that her presence held significance beyond what met the eye.

Joshua's eyes narrowed as he gestured towards a screen, revealing a CCTV feed. Seungcheol's breath caught as he watched the footage unfold. There she was, stepping into the limited area, a figure shrouded in mystery. But before she could make another move, someone emerged from the shadows, drugging her. Seungcheol saw her being held and strangled before she passed out. Seconds ticked by, the person escaped the area and Seungcheol, Joshua, and the manager's shadows appeared, unknowingly they had failed a crime that almost had taken place in Seungcheol's club.

Seungcheol let out a sigh of relief, grateful that nothing more sinister had occurred within the confines of his club. The weight of what could have been settled heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't help but contemplate the grim possibilities if a murder had taken place under his roof. The thought of imprisonment loomed, as did the fate of those who worked tirelessly under him.

With a determined look, Seungcheol turned to Joshua. "Find out more about the person who drugged her," he instructed, his voice steady. "I need to understand the connection, and why she ended up in our club in the first place."

Joshua's response was accompanied by a respectful bow, his demeanor exuding poise and unwavering focus. He left Seungcheol to his contemplations, striding off to untangle the enigmatic threads of this puzzling situation. With a gentle smile, Joshua mentioned that everyone was gathering for dinner, extending an invitation to Seungcheol. 

"No, I'm good. Thanks," Seungcheol politely declined, choosing to venture forth on his own.

After what felt like an eternity, a sudden thud echoed from outside, followed by an abrupt blackout. Seungcheol's heart raced, propelling him from his seat towards the desk where he had stashed his gun. The suspense hung heavy in the air, each passing moment pregnant with anticipation.

Seungcheol moved cautiously, stepping outside to investigate. He caught a fleeting glimpse of figures entering his penthouse. Gritting his teeth, he pressed himself into the shadows, keenly eavesdropping on their conversation. 

"I'm sure, he's here!" One of them said as they were certain Seungcheol was his place, and the others were preparing for dinner. 

Seungcheol deliberated, mentally counting their numbers. Four. After much contemplation, he acted swiftly, firing two shots that sent two of them scrambling for cover.

"Shit, who's that?" a voice exclaimed in surprise.

As another figure approached, Seungcheol didn't hesitate, striking with deadly precision. Seungcheol took a step, a dragon tattoo adorned their hand, a clear mark of Kanga's handiwork. The rival association had been a thorn in his side for years, the one who had killed Jeonghan.

Suddenly, the icy touch of metal pressed against Seungcheol's temple. "Choi Seungcheol, I've got you," the assailant whispered.

"Kanga's the one who sent you, isn't it?" Seungcheol inquired calmly.

A chuckle escaped the stranger before he retorted, "Whoever sent me definitely wanted you dead."

Seungcheol couldn't help but chuckle too. "Yeah, heard that from the previous people they had sent before. Guess what? They had failed." With a swift motion, he disarmed the assailant.

Punches flew, relentless and unforgiving. Seungcheol didn't give his opponent a chance to respond. But in his focused assault, he failed to notice what transpired next—a gunshot rang out.

 

*

 

You jolted, heart pounding, as the two gunshots pierced the darkness. The inky blackness enveloped you, exacerbating the headache, likely from whatever Seo Myungho had injected into your body. Did he succeed? The thought of your demise hung heavy. But if he failed, you were alive, albeit barely.

Your hand fumbled towards the pistol stashed on your inner thigh, a wave of relief washing over you as you found it intact. It had been your lifeline since that encounter with Myungho in Seungcheol's club.

"Seo Myungho, that son of a bitch," you seethed, memory flooding back. The betrayal cut deep, after a decade of unwavering dedication, sacrificing family, friends, and any semblance of a normal life. The country had turned its back on you. They betrayed you.

Steeling yourself, you descended from the bed, moving toward the commotion outside. Moonlight filtered through, casting a pallid glow. Amidst the shadows, you witnessed a fierce altercation. One man pummeled another, while a third sat poised, gun trained on the scene. Your instincts took over, aiming for the armed figure and firing, the shot tearing through his arm. 

The other man's gaze locked onto you, and recognition flickered in his eyes. Choi Seungcheol. The very man you had studied meticulously for this mission, only to realize it was a deadly mission targeting you, a mission to distract you and terminate you.

"Yoon Y/n," Seungcheol's voice cut through the tension, surprising you. He knew your real name. With deliberate grace, he released the lifeless figure he'd pummeled and advanced toward you. Instinctively, you took a step back, your gun trained on him.

He called your name again, this time coupled with another - Yoon Jeonghan.

"You're Yoon Jeonghan's sister, aren't you?" he inquired, his gaze flitting from his bruised knuckles to your face. You felt your back press against the wall as you continued to retreat, his presence closing in.

"How do you know?" you demanded, your grip on the gun steady. But you didn't notice as he skillfully disarmed you. The drugs Myungho administered began to take their toll again, sapping your strength. You slumped to the floor, powerless against it.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's concern was palpable, his eyes locked onto yours. The soothing timbre of his voice sent shivers down your spine.

Before you could muster a response, a surge of people barged into the room, casting a blinding cascade of light.

"What's going on?" A man's voice cut through the chaos, clearly taken aback by the grim tableau before him - blood spattered across the floor, Seungcheol sheltering you in the corner.

Joshua, the name Seungcheol had mentioned, approached, drawing Seungcheol's gaze as he spoke through gritted teeth, "Kanga sent them. How dare he invade my place!"

"You're awake. Why is she here?" Joshua's eyes narrowed, noticing you weakly cradled in Seungcheol's arms. You wondered how he knew you too.

Seungcheol let out a sigh, "She shot one of the men and saved me. Could you take her to the bedroom? I need to talk with the others." With gentle care, he helped you rise and passed you into Joshua's custody.

As Joshua guided you towards the bedroom, Seungcheol's voice echoed from beyond the door, seething with frustration, "WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU GOING?! WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE— " The words reverberated, tinged with urgency and anger.

You regarded Joshua, his demeanor seemingly acquainted with this kind of scene. He gently settled you on the bed and inquired if you needed anything.

"Thanks," you politely declined, gnawing at your lip, your mind grappling with how you ended up here.

Joshua's gaze on you was intense, and a soft chuckle escaped his lips. "You're truly a female version of Jeonghan," he remarked, a warm smile gracing his features.

"How do you know my brother?" you questioned, struck by the contrast between Joshua's aura and Seungcheol's. Where Seungcheol exuded intimidation, coldness, and territoriality, Joshua emitted a different energy. You shook off your thoughts, reminding yourself this was your first encounter with him, though you had studied images of him for months, they still swirled in your mind.

"We've been friends since high school. We watched your competition once, but after that, Jeonghan never let us go again," Joshua explained. He mentioned your past as a judo athlete, a chapter of your life that had been dormant for over a decade. Did his "we" means him, Jeonghan, and Seungcheol? And was Jeonghan's death connected to the murky business they were involved in? The questions hung heavy in the air.

Joshua struck you as a seemingly affable guy, you mused, recalling details from his profile. Hong Jisoo, but commonly known as Joshua since he hailed from the States. He held the esteemed position of Choi Seungcheol's right hand. His face bore an almost angelic quality, and seeing him in person you could confirmed it. However, his reputation preceded him; he is known for his deft manipulation with words and actions, a key factor in Seungcheol's meteoric rise in the industry. You couldn't help but wonder, was Jeonghan also a part of this world?

"How did I end up here?" you questioned, making a conscious effort to steer clear of any mention of your brother.

"You passed out in front of our office. Seungcheol had a hunch you might be Jeonghan's sister, and he was right. We've been searching for you ever since he... passed away," Joshua's voice trailed off, carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow.

"You were the only family he had, weren't you? Discovering you were truly his sister was quite the surprise," he continued, recounting how many times they had attempted to trace Jeonghan's family after his tragic demise.

Taking a deep breath, Joshua ventured further, asking about your presence at their club the previous night. You hesitated, deliberating whether to divulge everything. Could you truly place your trust in these people? After the events of last night, you have no plans on trusting people. You'd devoted over a decade of your life to serving as a secret agent for the NIS, giving your all for your country, only to be betrayed by sending Seo Myungho to take your life last night. You had been tasked with a mission to apprehend Choi Seungcheol, a businessman suspected of dealings with a dangerous Japanese mafia. Yet, it was a mission built on falsehoods. The complexities of your situation weighed heavily on your mind.

"I was—"

The door burst open, and Seungcheol strode into the room, immediately advancing towards you. He seized the gun you had, aiming it squarely at you. Joshua's startle prompted him to mimic Seungcheol's move, clearly uncertain about his intentions. But you sat there calmly, unruffled by the display, and noticed a smirk playing on Seungcheol's lips. 

"G19 Gen6, not even released yet. How did you get this?" Seungcheol's gaze bore into you, intense and penetrating. He must have some familiarity with firearms; perhaps he had a side business involving them, a detail that had slipped your memory.

"Are you a part of them?" he accused, linking you with Kanga, the well-known rival association.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Afraid you've saved an enemy, Choi Seungcheol?" you taunted, sensing his surprise at your knowledge of his true identity.

Seungcheol didn't respond. Instead, he handed the gun towards Joshua, instructing him to handcuff you. 

"Choi Seungcheol, also known as S.Coups..." You paused, debating whether to reveal your true identity.

"Organized crime, money laundering, fraud. Your knowledge of the G19 Gen6 suggests you're involved in arms trading," you ventured. Earning his trust was crucial now. You needed him to release you so you could slip away from their clutches. You were acutely aware that Seo Myungho was relentless in his pursuit, and they might launch a thorough search for you.

"I'm not your enemy, Seungcheol. I'm nobody to you," you asserted.

He smirked, a glint of interest in his eyes. "So, you've been studying me? Excellent! Tell me more."

You held his gaze, your eyes probing, voice laced with trepidation. "My brother... It was Kanga who took him from us, wasn't it?" The question hung in the air, heavy with its implications. "That's why you were searching for Kang Jaehoon."

Seungcheol settled onto the bed, his expression focused and intent as he studied you. "Who exactly are you?" His words were measured, hinting at a mix of curiosity and caution.

A lump formed in your throat as you weighed the decision to disclose your true identity. It seemed like the key to gaining his trust, perhaps even securing his help to escape the clutches of South Korea. Your hand moved to your bra, retrieving a badge holder that had been carefully tucked away. With a deliberate gesture, you tossed it before him, the emblem of the National Intelligence Service of South Korea gleaming. It bore the title that defined your role there: 'Special Agent.'

"I was on a mission to apprehend you, but it was a misguided attempt to terminate me instead," you admitted, the weight of the revelation palpable in the room. 

Seungcheol's eyes shifted between the badge and your face, a dawning realization painting his features. The room seemed to hold its breath, a charged silence enveloping you both. With a subtle gesture, Seungcheol motioned for Joshua to leave them alone. Respectfully, Joshua bowed and exited the room, leaving you alone with Seungcheol.

"You're... NIS?" Seungcheol's voice carried a mix of surprise and suspicion, his brows furrowing as he contemplated the revelation.

You affirmed with a nod, your voice steady despite the weight of the truth. "Yes, I was sent here under false pretenses. They wanted me out of the way, but I never expected they'd go this far." The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air.

A profound silence settled between you, the implications of your revelation settling like stones in a pond. Then, Seungcheol released a resigned sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "This complicates things."

You understood the far-reaching consequences of your admission. "I need your help, Seungcheol. They'll be looking for me. I have to go."

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, searching for sincerity in your eyes. His breath grazed your skin, a palpable intensity in the air. "Are you truly his sister?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

As if lost in thought, he murmured to himself, "You really could be his sister." You observed the turmoil within him, recognizing the weight of this revelation.

With a final sigh, Seungcheol rose from the bed. "Let's discuss this in the morning. Rest, Yoon Y/n." His voice held a gentle authority, a promise of further conversations to come. 

 

*

Seungcheol stood there, the weight of your revelation sinking in, memories flooding his mind. He remembered the last time he held Jeonghan, the pain etched on his face as he bled out from the gunshot wound inflicted by Kanga's people. Jeonghan had looked at him with desperate eyes, gasping for breath, and in those final moments, he had implored Seungcheol to find his sister and take care of her.

The memory was etched into Seungcheol's soul, a haunting echo of a promise made to a dying friend. He had sworn to Jeonghan that he would look after you, protect you. But now, faced with the reality of your presence, uncertainty gnawed at him. Could he trust you? Could he truly believe that you were Jeonghan's sister?

As Seungcheol lay in bed that night, sleep eluded him once again. His dreams were always haunted by Jeonghan's presence, a constant reminder of the debt he owed to his fallen friend. That night was no different. In the depths of his restless slumber, Jeonghan visited him, his ethereal form hovering in the shadows of Seungcheol's subconscious.

"Have you found her, Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's voice was soft, tinged with a sense of longing.

Seungcheol's heart ached. "I don't know, Jeonghan. I'm not sure about her."

When Seungcheol awoke, his body was drenched in sweat, the remnants of the dream clinging to him. The weight of his promise pressed on him, urging him to make a decision about you. He knew he couldn't ignore Jeonghan's final wish any longer. Determined, Seungcheol rose from the bed, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. Seungcheol took a deep breath, steadying himself, as he made his way to the dining room. His crew stood in respectful unison, bowing their heads as he entered. He motioned for them to continue, acknowledging their presence with a nod. His thoughts were still consumed by the revelation from the night before.

"Joshua," Seungcheol inquired, "is she awake?"

Joshua looked up from his meal, his expression calm. "Yes, she's up and had breakfast already."

With a nod of gratitude, Seungcheol left the dining area, heading back to his bedroom, now shared with you. As he approached the door, he felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. 

But when he opened the door, he was met with a sight that took him completely off guard. You stood in the middle of the room, in the process of changing, your back exposed to him. Seungcheol's eyes widened in a, and he immediately averted his gaze, hastily closing the door.

He turned to Joshua, his voice low and incredulous. "Why didn't you tell me she was changing?"

Joshua looked nonplussed, offering a casual shrug. "I thought you might knock."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in bewilderment. "It's my own bedroom. Why would I need to knock?"

Before Joshua could respond, the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side. "I'm done," you mumbled, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Seungcheol swiftly averted his gaze, the atmosphere tingling with an undeniable awkwardness. 

"We need to go," he stated with a sense of urgency, turning to face you. With determined steps, he entered his room as he beeline to his closet. You followed, curiosity knitting your brows.

"Why?" you queried, seeking to understand the sudden need for urgency.

He paused, pivoting his body to meet your gaze, his expression bearing a weighty concern. "It's not safe here," he explained, his words carrying the gravity of a man well-acquainted with danger.

You held his gaze, surprise flickering in your eyes at the sincerity in his tone. "You want to help me?" The question hung between you, a silent plea for confirmation.

Seungcheol's response was a resigned sigh, his shoulders sagging as he grappled with the complexities of the situation. "You want to see me change?" he quipped, a touch of wry humor attempting to diffuse the tension.

You responded with a nonchalant shrug, crossing your arms in a self-assured stance. "You saw me change," you reminded him, a wry smile dancing on your lips. 

Seungcheol couldn't help but notice a glimmer of Jeonghan's personality in your demeanor, though he chose not to comment on it directly. Instead, he proceeded to lay out the plan to leave the penthouse and head to his villa in Jeju. It was a strategic move, combining the need for safety with a business meeting.

"As for the business," you inquired, your tone laced with a hint of sarcasm, "which one are we talking about? Your vast array of illegal enterprises, perhaps?"

Seungcheol's jaw tightened, irritation flickering in his eyes. He didn't appreciate the reminder of his less-than-legal dealings. "You saw me punching the guy last night. I don't exclude women, woman," he warned, his tone laced with a sharp edge.

Your smirk was quick and sharp, a challenge glinting in your eyes. "And you saw me shooting that guy last night," you retorted, refusing to back down, your voice echoing the same defiant spirit.

A timely knock shattered the tension that had settled in the room. Joshua's voice called out your name, signaling that he had something to discuss. You excused yourself to attend to Joshua's call, leaving Seungcheol alone in the room.

Taking the opportunity, Seungcheol set about changing his clothes and assembling his belongings. The task was done with a practiced efficiency, each item packed with purpose. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of urgency, a reminder of the weighty decisions that needed to be made in the face of mounting uncertainties.

As Seungcheol made final adjustments to his belongings, his thoughts raced through the upcoming plans. The trip to Jeju was a necessary step, but it also meant delving deeper into a world that held no shortage of dangers.

"Seungcheol, we need to talk."

 "What is it?"

Joshua's gaze met Seungcheol's, his expression grave. "We have to be cautious. With Y/n here, things are more complicated than ever."

Seungcheol nodded in agreement. "I know. We'll have to tread carefully."

Joshua's voice lowered. "And what about her connection to NIS? That's a wild card we can't ignore."

Seungcheol's jaw clenched, a surge of apprehension coursing through him. "We'll need to find out more. But for now, we need to get to Jeju. It's our best chance to regroup and plan our next move."

Joshua nodded in agreement, the weight of their circumstances hanging in the air. 

With a shared understanding of the complexities they were about to navigate, Seungcheol and Joshua left the room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. The gravity of their situation pressed on them, a reminder that every move they made held the potential for both danger and revelation.

As they approached the main area, Seungcheol's crew stood at the ready, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Seungcheol addressed them with a voice that carried authority and purpose. "We're leaving for Jeju. Make sure everything is in order."

The crew members nodded in response, swiftly moving to carry out their orders. The sense of urgency in the air was palpable, each person understanding the weight of the circumstances they faced.

Seungcheol turned to you, his gaze steady. "Y/n, we need to stick together and be vigilant. This won't be easy, but we'll do our best to get through it."

You met his gaze, a sense of resolve mirrored in your eyes. "I'm ready," you affirmed, your voice holding a determination that matched his own.

Seungcheol's expression grew serious as he considered the weight of the decision. Without a word, he reached into his coat and retrieved a compact pistol, handling it with the practiced ease of someone intimately familiar with such weapons.

He extended the gun towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it," he instructed, his voice low and steady. "You may need it."

You accepted the weapon, feeling the cool metal against your palm. The gravity of the situation settled over you, the weight of the gun a tangible reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

Seungcheol's gaze held yours, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you both knew that trust would be your greatest asset on this perilous journey. With a nod, you secured the gun, a silent promise to yourself and to Seungcheol that you would do whatever it took to navigate the treacherous path that awaited.

 

*

 

"FUCK YOU CHOI SEUNGCHEOL! YOU DOUBTED ME?!" The words burst forth, a torrent of raw emotion that reverberated through the charged atmosphere of the villa. The scene that met your eyes was a brutal tableau, a testament to the 'loyalty test' you had just endured. Seungcheol's men, once a formidable force, now lay strewn across the floor, some nursing wounds, others utterly broken, their blood staining the very foundation of the villa. It was clear now, with visceral certainty, that this had been a test - a trial of your allegiance to Choi Seungcheol, and he had orchestrated it with brutal precision. Is this his plan?

Seungcheol, his countenance unyielding, stood at the entrance, a silent observer to the chaos he had set in motion. He offered no words, only a casual shrug, as if the mayhem that had unfolded was but a casual affair. This calculated trial had served its purpose, a ruthless measure of your loyalty to him.

Earlier, just before his departure, his directive had been succinct and commanding. "We're leaving for a meeting. Make sure this villa is safe." His tone brooked no debate, and with a seamless transition, you shifted into your assassin mode. Adrenaline surged, senses heightened, as twenty assailants launched an assault on the villa. In the midst of the fray, a searing pain shot through your arm, a cruel reminder of the peril that surrounded you.

Grimly, you surveyed the bleeding wound, the realization settling in. Was this why Seungcheol had handed you a gun? The revelation underscored the unforgiving nature of the world you now navigated, where trust was a currency often traded for survival, and alliances were forged in the crucible of adversity.

As you tended to your wounded arm, a surge of bitterness welled within you. The betrayal by NIS was a jagged thorn in your side, a question that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Why had they turned on you? Why had they orchestrated a mission to terminate you, sending Seo Myungho as the executioner? It was a betrayal that cut deep, a wound far more insidious than the one you now tended.

Memories of your years of dedication, the sacrifices made in service of your country, flashed before your eyes. The sleepless nights, the countless missions executed with precision, all in the name of duty and honor. And yet, here you were, marked as a target by the very organization you had pledged your allegiance to.

The implications of their betrayal were far-reaching. It wasn't just a matter of personal vendetta, but a shadowy web of intrigue that extended into the highest echelons of power. Questions swirled in your mind, each one a shard of a puzzle that refused to be pieced together. Who had ordered this mission? What were their motives? And perhaps most pressing of all, how had they infiltrated the seemingly impenetrable walls of NIS?

The truth eluded you, shrouded in a fog of deception and hidden agendas. But one thing was clear - you could trust no one, not even the very organization that had once been your steadfast ally. As you contemplated the depths of the betrayal, a resolve took root within you. You would uncover the truth, expose the puppet masters pulling the strings, and ensure that those who had betrayed you would face the consequences of their treachery. 

"You cry?"

Seungcheol's voice jolted you back to the present, shattering the fragile reverie that had taken hold. Startled, you hastily wiped away tears that had silently betrayed you. His mock tone and the smirk on his face grated on your nerves.

"Shut up," you retorted, the irritation plain in your voice. Meanwhile, Joshua, who was now tending to your wound, observed the exchange with a small, appreciative smile. He couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance you bore to Jeonghan. It was a revelation that brought with it a sense of gratitude, knowing that you were capable of eliciting a playful side from Seungcheol, a side that had perhaps been buried beneath the loss of Jeonghan.

The room held a curious energy, a blend of tension and familiarity, as you each navigated the complexities of your newfound alliance. It was a precarious dance, one that required finesse and an acute understanding of the intricate dynamics at play. As Joshua continued his ministrations, the unspoken bond between you and Seungcheol seemed to solidify.

Seungcheol's voice held a gravitas that cut through the air, breaking the tension that lingered in the room. "You need to know the truth," he began, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Kanga is a puppet, dancing on the strings pulled by NIS."

His words hung heavy, the weight of their implications settling in the room. You exchanged a wary glance with Joshua, both of you keenly aware of the gravity of the revelation.

Seungcheol continued, his tone unwavering. "They receive secret information, illegal permissions, all in exchange for their services. The most lucrative of which is the import of drugs from Japan, a trade that lines the pockets of those in power."

The revelation was a bitter pill to swallow, a glimpse into the shadowy underbelly of the world you had once called home. The intricate web of deception and betrayal now stretched even further, revealing the sinister dance between organized crime and the very agency sworn to protect the nation.

Seungcheol's revelation hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the depths of deceit that surrounded them. 

As the weight of the truth settled, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anger and betrayal. The organization you had dedicated your life to had fed you misinformation, leading you down a treacherous path that had ultimately led to this moment.

"You mean to say... I've been fed wrong information all this time?" The words left your lips, laced with a mixture of disbelief and outrage. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, a testament to the extent of the manipulation that had been orchestrated by NIS.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into yours, his expression one of grim acknowledgment. "You might know something about them that they decided to eliminate you."

The weight of Seungcheol's revelation settled over you, each word sinking in like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place. The mission, the betrayal - it all makes sense.

The black file.

Contained within its darkened pages were the damning records of illegal activities, a trove of evidence implicating powerful figures, including your own chief. It was what they were after, what they desperately sought to retrieve. And unbeknownst to them, you held it in your possession.

In that moment, you knew that the stakes had escalated to a perilous height. The file was not just a collection of papers; it was a weapon, a leverage that could shift the balance of power. The revelations had transformed the journey ahead into a high-stakes game, one where every move would be a calculated risk, every decision a potential turning point.

Where did you put that damn file? 

The black file, a digital repository of evidence, held the potential to turn the tide in your favor. But now, in this critical moment, you found yourself grappling with a nagging uncertainty. Frantically, you cast your thoughts back, retracing your steps in a desperate bid to recall where you had put the file. The room seemed to close in around you, each passing second a reminder of the ticking clock. Your heart raced as you mentally rifled through your memories, searching for the elusive location.

"You'll be safe with us," Joshua mumbled, his voice a soothing presence as he finished tending to your wound. Seungcheol nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a quiet determination.

With a gentle pat on your shoulder, Joshua left, leaving you alone with Seungcheol. He took a seat in front of you, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Jeonghan wanted me to take care of you," he began, his voice tinged with a solemn weight. "Those were his final words to me - find you and look after you on his behalf."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, your skepticism clear in your gaze. "And that's why you orchestrated that earlier?" you asked, alluding to the attack his men had initiated.

Seungcheol let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I needed to be sure. You worked with NIS. I had every reason to be cautious, to doubt your intentions," he admitted, his tone tinged with a mumble of apology.

He continued, his voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "Me, Jeonghan, and Joshua built this association from the ground up. Jeonghan was my right hand, handling all aspects of the business, while Joshua helped me manage our resources." He paused, a flicker of emotion crossing his features.

"My relationship with Jeonghan... it was different. He was like a brother, someone who completed me in a way that no one else could. I hope you understand why I view Kanga with such animosity," Seungcheol explained, his words carrying a weight of history and sentiment.

You tilted your head, offering a hesitant observation. "I didn't expect you to be this... emotional, Seungcheol. You might just be the most melancholic person to run an illegal business," you remarked, earning a sigh from him.

"I'm a businessman, not a robot, Y/n," he replied, rising from his seat. "We'll be here for five days. After that, we'll move to Busan, and perhaps even Japan. Be prepared for a lot of traveling. Once you join us, there's no turning back."

With those final words, Seungcheol left you alone in the bedroom, leaving you to contemplate the weight of the journey that lay ahead.

 

*

The sleek black car cut through the night, slicing through the darkened roads like a shadow. Inside, it was an atmosphere thick with tension, with only the low hum of the engine breaking the silence. Seungcheol's gaze remained fixed ahead, the muted glow of passing streetlights painting fleeting streaks of light across his focused expression.

Beside him, you sat in contemplative silence, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. The file, the association, Seungcheol's motives - it was all a whirlwind of complexity that demanded your utmost attention.

Abruptly, the car jerked to a stop, sending a jolt through your body. Panic flashed in your eyes as you instinctively glanced at Seungcheol, who already had his hand on the gun tucked at his side. The driver, Seungcheol's trusted bodyguard, was on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Seungcheol's phone chimed, breaking the silence, and he quickly answered. Joshua's voice crackled through the speaker, fraught with urgency. "Seungcheol, I've had a tire blowout. I'll be delayed. Go ahead without me."

Seungcheol's brow furrowed in concern, his gaze flickering to you briefly before refocusing on the situation at hand. "Understood, Joshua. We'll proceed. Be safe."

As the call ended, the car suddenly rocked violently, the sound of screeching metal filling the air. The windows shattered, showering you with glass, and the world outside seemed to explode into chaos. The driver fought to regain control, but it was clear - they were under attack.

Seungcheol's training kicked in, his movements swift and calculated as he returned fire, the staccato bursts of gunfire filling the confined space. The assailants, masked and armed, were relentless, their bullets finding purchase in the car's reinforced chassis.

With a steely resolve, you reached for the concealed weapon at your side, your training taking over. You fired back, your shots precise and calculated, each one a declaration of your determination to survive.

The battle raged on, a fierce clash of wills in the heart of the night. The car became a battleground, a symphony of gunfire and shattered glass.

With a final surge of determination, Seungcheol's onslaught forced the assailants to retreat, their presence vanishing into the night. The car, battered and smoldering, sat in the aftermath of the brutal assault.

The air inside the car hung heavy with tension, suffused with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Seungcheol's gaze bore into the darkness outside, his mind racing with thoughts on their next move.

Without hesitation, he swung open the door, motioning for you to follow. The night air was cool against your skin, carrying with it a sense of urgency that matched the pounding of your heart.

Seungcheol took the lead, his every movement calculated and purposeful. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. "We can't stay here. We need to find shelter," he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos that had erupted around them.

You nodded, falling into step behind him, the weight of your weapon a reassuring presence in your hand. The driver, still recovering from the shock of the attack, looked to Seungcheol for guidance.

"Head towards the nearest safehouse," Seungcheol instructed, his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

As the driver navigated the damaged vehicle through the treacherous terrain, Seungcheol's mind raced, formulating a plan to ensure their safety. "We'll need to regroup, gather our resources, and assess the situation," he murmured, more to himself than to you. Seungcheol's jaw clenched, the weight of responsibility settling firmly on his shoulders.

When the car finally came to a stop outside a nondescript building, Seungcheol wasted no time. He directed the driver to secure the perimeter while he ushered you inside.

The safehouse was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Seungcheol's eyes scanned the room, assessing its potential vulnerabilities. "We'll need to fortify this place. It's not ideal, but it will have to do for now," he declared, his tone unwavering.

"You're bleeding." You stated as your gaze fell into his shoulder. Blood stained his baby blue shirt, signing that he got shot there. 

As you swiftly moved around the safehouse, your eyes scanned for a medical kit. It was a testament to the intensity of the night that you didn't even flinch at the sight of the supplies, grabbing what you needed with the precision of someone well-acquainted with field medicine.

When you returned to Seungcheol, he watched you intently, his gaze never leaving your hands as you tended to his wound. It was a clean shot, but it still needed attention. The room was hushed, save for the soft rustle of the bandages.

"You're a pro," Seungcheol's voice cut through the quiet, his tone a mixture of admiration and respect.

"I received a lot of training," your reply was simple, a reflection of the life you had led.

Curiosity danced in Seungcheol's eyes as he asked about your time with NIS. You shared snippets of your missions, the work you did in the security and international affairs division. The topics ranged from diplomatic protection to intelligence gathering in high-stakes environments.

"What kind of training did you receive?" Seungcheol inquired, genuinely interested in the life you had lived.

You listed off the various disciplines you had honed: firing, martial arts, endurance, criminalogy, psychology. Each word held weight, a testament to the breadth of skills required in your line of work.

"Is that hard? Being an agent?" Seungcheol's question was measured, a genuine curiosity about the world you navigated.

You met his query with one of your own, turning the spotlight back on him. "Is that hard being a mafia?"

Seungcheol blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from a man who exuded confidence in every step he took.

"Even answering is hard," you mused softly, a wry smile touching your lips. With a final adjustment to the bandage, you finished tending to Seungcheol's wound. The room settled into a thoughtful silence, each of you lost in your own reflections.

"Have you ever thought of leaving the job?"

Seungcheol's question hung in the air, a weighty inquiry that cut through the silence. It was a question that carried a depth of understanding, born from the recognition of the sacrifices that came with a life dedicated to a cause.

You looked at him, your gaze meeting his, and for a moment, the veneer of professionalism fell away. It was just two individuals, bound by circumstance, facing the complexities of their chosen paths.

"Yes," you admitted, your voice soft but resolute. "There have been moments when I've wondered what it would be like to walk away, to have a life that doesn't demand constant vigilance."

Seungcheol listened, his eyes fixed on yours, his expression a mirror of contemplation. It was a conversation that touched on the vulnerabilities that lingered beneath the surface, the unspoken desires for a different kind of existence.

"And have you?" Seungcheol's question was equally gentle, a reflection of the trust that had begun to form between you.

You nodded, a subtle admission of the complexities that colored your journey. "There have been times when I've come close, but duty always called me back."

The weight of your shared confessions settled in the room, a heavy presence that underscored the gravity of the paths you both walked. It was a moment of vulnerability, a rare glimpse into the hearts that beat beneath the professional exteriors.

You mustered the courage to speak about your brother, Jeonghan. "I found out about Jeonghan's death through a covert channel within NIS. It was a blow, a revelation that shook me to my core." The memory was still fresh, the pain of loss a constant ache in your heart.

You pondered over what Jeonghan's life must have been like, what secrets he held. "I always assumed Jeonghan was running a clothing line," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. The memory of your last encounter with him flashed before your eyes. It was then that he had learned about your affiliation with NIS.

Seungcheol listened intently, his eyes fixed on you. It was a story that resonated with him, for he too had lost Jeonghan, a brother in a different sense. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way," he offered, his voice laced with genuine sympathy.

Every time you considered leaving the job, the specter of your brother's death loomed large. It was a reason to stay, a burning desire to unravel the mystery of who had taken him from you. The need for closure, for justice, fueled your determination.

"He never said anything about you. I think he was just being secretive to protect your privacy. It must have been a surprise for him to learn you work for NIS," Seungcheol mused, offering his perspective.

The thought of NIS potentially being involved in Jeonghan's death hung heavy in the air. "If Jeonghan's death is related to NIS, I would do anything to rip them apart," you confessed, your voice edged with determination. The words held a weight of truth, a vow to seek justice for the brother you had lost.

Seungcheol's gaze met yours, a solemn understanding passing between you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of your shared purpose settling around you.

"I can assure you, Y/n," Seungcheol began, his voice carrying a quiet resolve, "we both want the same thing. I'll kill Kang Jaehoon with my own hands. I'll do it by my self to whoever did that to Jeonghan."

You nodded, grateful for his words. It was a reassurance that you weren't alone in this pursuit, that you had an ally in Seungcheol, even if your worlds were vastly different.

As the conversation lingered in the air, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. It was a recognition of the bond that had formed between you, a connection forged in the crucible of shared loss.

"We'll find the answers together, Y/n. No matter where they lead us," Seungcheol vowed, his eyes steady and unwavering.

With those words, a pact was sealed. You and Seungcheol were now bound by a shared purpose, a determination to uncover the truth that had eluded you both for far too long.

In that moment, the boundaries of your worlds seemed to blur. 

 

*

 

The shadows of intrigue danced around the dimly lit room where Joshua stood, a man cloaked in secrets and allegiances. Before him stood a figure whose face was veiled in shadows, a powerful presence in the criminal underworld.

"Yoon Y/n has met Seungcheol," Joshua reported, his voice carrying the weight of significant revelation. "Seungcheol seems to have taken an affection to her, especially upon learning she is Jeonghan's sister."

The man nodded in acknowledgment, absorbing the information with calculated interest. It was a revelation that held implications beyond what was immediately apparent.

Joshua continued, his voice steady, "Tonight's assault was successful. Seungcheol has informed me that they will stop at the safe house."

The man wasted no time, instructing his associates to mobilize towards the designated safe house. It was a calculated move, a chess piece carefully maneuvered into place.

"As you promised, make sure my name remains clean," Joshua stated, a reminder of the intricate web of alliances and agreements that bound them.

Seo Myunho, a formidable figure in his own right, extended his hand for a handshake, sealing a pact forged in the shadows of their clandestine dealings. Joshua, however, shifted his hand to another figure in the room, Kang Jaehoon, a gesture that spoke volumes of the shifting alliances and hidden agendas at play.

In the complex tapestry of loyalties and betrayals, Joshua's decision to betray his own association was woven from a history that ran deep, entangled with the fates of Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

From the inception of their criminal enterprise, Joshua had always been the steadfast third pillar, his words overshadowed by Jeonghan's charismatic influence. His loyalty was unwavering, his execution of tasks impeccable. Yet, when a deal with Kang Jaehoon emerged, a sinister plot was set into motion. Jaehoon sought to eliminate Jeonghan, recognizing him as the linchpin to Seungcheol's success. With Jeonghan removed, the balance shifted, and Joshua stepped into the void, his influence expanding, making it all the easier for Kang Jaehoon to tighten his grip on Seungcheol's empire.

As Kanga sought to escalate their operations, delving into the drug trade, they required political backing, and that's when Kim Chul, Chief of NIS, entered the picture. Seo Myungho was deployed to play his role, a lethal pawn in the intricate game.

Yoon Y/n, an NIS agent of unparalleled dedication, possessed an unparalleled knowledge of the geopolitical intricacies between nations. Her resolve was unyielding, and she became a potent force within NIS. When her familial connection to Yoon Jeonghan was discovered, it provided a strategic advantage, a means to chip away at Seungcheol's empire from within.

The plan was deceptively simple: bring S.Coups and Y/n together, knowing that their union posed the greatest threat to Kang Jaehoon and Kim Chul. It was a calculated move to weaken their adversaries, setting the stage for a termination mission that could shatter Seungcheol's empire.

Yet, in the twisted dance of deception, Seo Myungho failed to convey the full extent of Y/n's power—the possession of The Blackfile. And Joshua, blinded by the intricacies of the game, failed to realize the magnitude of the force that would be unleashed when Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n stood united.

Jaehoon's operative delivered the report with a somber tone, "Hyungnim, report. Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Y/n had left the safe house. We failed to get them."

Jaehoon's gaze narrowed, a steely resolve settling into his features. He turned to Joshua, seeking answers, "Any information from Coups?"

Joshua's expression registered surprise, shaken by the fact that Seungcheol hadn't disclosed his whereabouts. He shook his head, uncertainty etched in his eyes. This unexpected move was a curveball that had caught them off guard.

Jaehoon's voice held a note of determination, "Okay, let's go with plan B." 

 

*

 

The small, unassuming bookstore loomed in front of both you and Seungcheol. His driver took a separate route, following instructions issued by Seungcheol himself.

"Is this the right place?" Seungcheol inquired, a note of skepticism threading his words. The decision to leave the safe house was a precautionary one, a response to the looming threat of Kanga's relentless pursuit. The only refuge you offered was this hidden bookstore, a sanctuary where trust still held sway.

A boy stood behind the counter, his eyes flicking up to greet you. You wasted no time in your inquiry, asking if 'Gameboi' was present. Without hesitation, the boy gestured towards a concealed door, hidden behind a curtain. Seungcheol followed your lead, stepping into the dimly lit corridor.

With practiced precision, you input a code and scanned your fingerprint, unlocking the hidden passage. 

"What kind of place is this?" He asked again. 

You smiled at Seungcheol, a silent invitation for him to enter the room ahead of you. As he crossed the threshold, the stark transformation in atmosphere struck him.

The room burst forth in a riot of color, adorned with an array of vibrant and eclectic decorations. It resembled nothing short of a teenager's bedroom from high school. Seungcheol's gaze swept over the lively surroundings, a stark contrast to the dark corridor outside.

Just as the intrigue deepened, a bespectacled man entered through another door. He exuded an air of warmth and welcome. He approached you, enfolding you in a genuine embrace. Then, he extended a hand towards Seungcheol, introducing himself as 'Wonwoo'. 

"I know you," Wonwoo said when Seungcheol introduced himself, his curiosity piqued. "You haven't visited for a long time. Any news?" He turned to you, inquiring while the three of you settled on the couch.

Seungcheol found amusement in witnessing how at ease you appeared in this room compared to his own. Your legs rested casually on the table as you sank into the couch.

"Seo Myungho and that damned organization turned their backs on me, Jeon Wonwoo! I can't believe the time has come," you sighed, frustration evident in your voice.

"What do you mean? You're the one and only gem in the division," Wonwoo remarked, revealing his knowledge of your work with NIS.

You stood up and turned to Seungcheol, "Wonwoo was a former NIS agent as well. Specializing in programming, hacking, whatever," you explained, shedding light on your connection with Wonwoo.

"Cybersecurity agent," Wonwoo corrected, "I resigned two years ago," providing a little background on how he knew Seungcheol's name from earlier.

You assumed they were looking for you because of The Black File, a file that Wonwoo had contributed to before he left NIS. You explained to Wonwoo how Seo Myunho had nearly killed you that night, and Seungcheol had saved you, revealing that he was a friend of your brother Yoon Jeonghan. 

Wonwoo was taken aback by the news, both the fact that they wanted to terminate you and that you were Yoon Jeonghan's sibling.

You then requested Wonwoo's help in tracking down Seo Myunho. He beckoned for you both to follow him to his room, where his equipment was neatly arranged.

As he typed Seo Myungho's name, he initiated a thorough search. Wonwoo combed through Myungho's location via his cellphone, bank transactions, and car GPS. After a few moments, he pinpointed a location and immediately pulled up a live feed from the nearest CCTV.

Seungcheol couldn't help but question the legality of their actions, only to be met with scoffs from both you and Wonwoo. "You ask that like you've never done anything illegal, Choi Seungcheol," you retorted.

You watched intently as Myungho emerged from a building that bore the appearance of a club. Seungcheol confirmed that it was indeed one of Kanga's establishments.

"Then it's true that Myungho has worked with Kanga," Wonwoo concluded, the gravity of the situation becoming even clearer.

As you observed Myungho, a thought crossed your mind - was he merely a puppet in this intricate web? You recalled a crucial event months ago when you intercepted one of Kanga's transactions, a move that had ultimately led to your current mission of apprehending Choi Seungcheol. There was a possibility that someone within NIS was colluding with Kanga.

You turned to Wonwoo and inquired if he had a copy of The Black File. He shook his head, affirming that you were the sole holder of it.

Seungcheol, sensing the gravity of the situation, asked, "What is The Black File?". 

Wonwoo explained that it contained information on powerful individuals engaged in illegal activities, including politicians, celebrities, and leaders. Both you and Wonwoo had worked on compiling it for several years, believing it would prove valuable. Little did you know, it had now become a weapon that held your fate.

You admitted to Wonwoo that you had forgotten where you stashed the flash drive containing the file.

Wonwoo's expression turned serious. "We don't have time for memory lapses," he stated firmly. "You need to remember where you put it. It's crucial. This file holds immense power, and if in the wrong hands..." He left the implications hanging in the air, emphasizing the urgency of retrieving it.

"But i don't think they were looking for the file, Y/n." Wonwoo began. "They won't kill you if they knew the file exists. There must be another reason why they had to terminate you."

Wonwoo's revelation sparked a realization. If they were after The Black File, they wouldn't be attempting to terminate you. Their motives ran deeper, and you couldn't quite fathom the underlying cause.

Seungcheol's sudden question pierced the air, "Does NIS know about your brother?"

Your mind raced, trying to connect the dots. How could Jeonghan, who was long gone, be relevant to this?

Wonwoo's inquiry brought forth more details. Seungcheol explained that Jeonghan's tragic demise occurred five years ago, a casualty of a successful deal he had struck with Kanga. The revelation sent a jolt through you. Three years ago, you received the news from the NIS channel, indicating a two-year delay in information. 

There must be reason for NIS to inform you about your brother's death. 

Morning bathed the room in a soft glow as you and Wonwoo delved into the intricacies of the case that had entangled both you and Seungcheol. Seungcheol momentarily stepped out to take a call, leaving you alone with Wonwoo.

Out of the blue, Wonwoo dropped a bombshell. "He likes you," he declared. "And you like him too."

You shot him a look, dismissing his words. "Shut up."

Wonwoo merely shrugged, undeterred. "Why not? Can't I be happy for you? He seems to genuinely care about you. Plus, he's in this danger too," he pointed out.

"He sees me as a sister," you retorted, brushing off his claim.

Wonwoo couldn't resist a sarcastic agreement. "Right, because every brother looks at their sister with such affectionate eyes." He knew how to push your buttons, and it irked you.

There were a pregnant pause before you suddenly chirepd, "But seriously?" you pressed, the seed of doubt taking root.

Wonwoo smirked, triumphant. He had you.

"Damn it," you muttered, landing a playful punch on his arm.

Seungcheol entered the room, his expression tense. "We need to go. Kanga's people are looking for us, whether it's me or you, I'm not sure. They were spotted near the safe house last night."

You bid a hasty farewell to Wonwoo and left the bookstore with Seungcheol. Sensing his exhaustion, you offered to take the wheel, knowing he hadn't slept since the previous night.

Your plan was to head to Japan by ship later that evening. It was the only solution Seungcheol could think of, a way to put some distance between you and the danger lurking in South Korea.

As you discussed your next moves, Seungcheol mentioned Joshua's unusual situation. His tire hadn't been repaired despite the supposed breakdown last night, his bodyguard had checked it for him. There was no repairment service that handling his car last night. The unspoken suspicion hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to voice it aloud.

"Are you trying to say that Joshua..." Seungcheol, however, nodded in grim acknowledgment. The truth seemed painfully apparent.

At the rest area, Seungcheol stayed in the car while you hurriedly went to grab some food. Just as you were about to return, you caught sight of individuals with distinctive dragon tattoos etched on their arms. Panic surged through you, propelling you to rush to your car and start the engine with a burst of urgency. The abrupt motion woke Seungcheol, his eyes widening at your alarmed announcement about Kanga's henchmen tailing you.

With Seungcheol's calm guidance, you maneuvered the car with precision, skillfully evading the pursuers. Eventually, he directed you to a public parking lot, providing a temporary sanctuary where you could catch your breath.

As the car rolled to a stop, you released a trembling exhale, your fingers still gripping the steering wheel tightly. Seungcheol's concerned gaze met yours, his worry palpable as he took in your shaken state.

"Are you alright, Y/n?" His voice held a mixture of concern and a trace of remorse for allowing you to take the wheel amidst the heightened tension.

You nodded, though the rapid rise and fall of your chest, coupled with your trembling hands, betrayed the underlying tension that still clung to you. With deliberate movements, you unbuckled your seatbelt and rose from your seat. As you nestled into Seungcheol's lap. You lips crashed his. Without a doubt, his arms enveloped you in a protective cocoon. The kiss that followed was a fusion of relief, gratitude, and an unspoken understanding of the danger that lurked around you.

His lips met yours with a gentle urgency, a silent promise of safety and support. It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could scarcely capture. Time seemed to stand still, and the world beyond the car became a distant backdrop.

The touch of his lips against yours was both tender and reassuring, a testament to the unspoken connection that had been forming between you. In that stolen moment, you found solace in each other's arms, seeking comfort in the midst of uncertainty.

When the kiss finally ended, there was a lingering warmth, a shared understanding that hung in the air. You pulled back, your eyes meeting Seungcheol's with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something that hinted at the complexities of the situation you found yourselves in.

Seungcheol's gaze held a rare vulnerability, a glimpse into the depths of his emotions that he seldom allowed to surface. It was a fleeting moment of raw connection, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the circumstances that brought you together.

Without a word, you shifted back to your own seat, a comfortable silence settling between you. The events of the night had forged an unbreakable bond, a shared experience that bound you in ways that words could not express.

"I'll drive." Seungcheol said and went out to switch the seat. 

 

*

 

"The boat will be ready by tonight," Joshua assured Seungcheol over the phone, a sense of anticipation in his voice. "Yes, I'll report to you about that. Please take care, the two of you."

As the call concluded, Joshua's eyes shifted to Seo Myungho. "Easy," he remarked, a sly smile playing on his lips. He motioned for Myungho to join them, setting their intricate plan into motion.

Their objective was clear: secure The Black File before executing their plan to eliminate both you and Seungcheol that night. Myungho's valuable insights into The Black File, a compilation of your intelligence and that of a former NIS agent, made it a potent weapon for seizing control of the industry.

Joshua couldn't help but smirk, satisfaction evident in his expression. The alliance between him and Myungho, forged in the crucible of shared secrets and calculated trust, held the promise of a meticulously planned revenge. The culmination of a long-simmering vendetta was now unfolding step by step.

Myungho, behind the wheel, sighed in relief as he drove. "You finally could be the boss of your association by tonight."

Nodding, Joshua turned his gaze to Myungho, a glint of triumph in his eyes. "And you finally could gain what you've deserved with Y/n out of the frame."

Myungho smiled slyly, understanding the gravity of their collaboration. "It's mutual, right?"

Joshua chuckled softly, his amusement blending with a hint of menace. "Yeah. Once we get The Black File, it's time for Kanga and your boss's end."

As they drove towards their destiny, the tension in the air was palpable. The night held the promise of transformation, and each calculated move was a step closer to the realization of their shared ambitions.

Joshua sighed, his mind drifting back to a time when camaraderie thrived among them—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and himself, the third wheel in their trio. In the beginning, questions about their friendship never crossed his mind. Jeonghan's insatiable need for attention seemed to explain Seungcheol's profound admiration for him. Yet, as the dynamics shifted from friendship to business, Joshua's perception underwent a seismic change.

He came to the realization that he had never truly been considered family from the start; he was more of a distant relative, someone known but not entirely trusted. The shift became painfully apparent as their bonds transformed amidst the demands of their new business endeavors. What once felt like an unbreakable connection now seemed tenuous, as he found himself relegated to the sidelines.

The tipping point occurred when Seungcheol, in a move that cut deep, was elected as the boss. Instead of recognizing Joshua's unwavering dedication to the association, Seungcheol chose Jeonghan as his right-hand man. It was a bitter pill to swallow, a stark revelation of the hierarchy within their supposedly close-knit circle.

Life, Joshua mused, was undeniably unfair. Yet, he harbored a growing understanding that life could be twisted, transformed by unexpected events. And that twist entered the frame in the form of Kang Jaehoon.

As Joshua delved into these memories, a mixture of nostalgia and resentment played across his features. The emotions he had bottled up over time simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to unfurl. 

Turning his head towards Myungho, Joshua couldn't help but voice his curiosity, "What kind of person is Y/n?" His interest in unraveling your persona evident in his inquiry.

Myungho, with a momentary pause, described, "She's naive, perhaps the most naive agent I've ever met." There was a hint of both assessment and a touch of amusement in his words. Myungho's insight into your character seemed to amuse Joshua, who couldn't resist a scoff. "Pretty much like her own brother," he remarked, drawing a subtle parallel between you and someone else close to Joshua.

"But she's smart, detail-oriented, and quick," Myungho continued, offering a more comprehensive picture of your capabilities. "Truly speaking, she has an undeniable charm that could make everyone like her. That's how she got into her position."

Joshua, listening attentively, shook his head slowly, a mix of acknowledgment and resignation in his expression. "Right? People with charm always beat the hard workers like us," he mused, releasing a sigh that carried a hint of bitterness.

Myungho, however, added a layer of perspective. Nodding thoughtfully, he turned to Joshua, "But only a hardworking one could steal that." His words hung in the air, emphasizing the value of perseverance and diligence in their cutthroat world.

As the conversation unfolded in the confined space of the car, the atmosphere became charged with unspoken truths and the acknowledgment of the intricate dynamics at play. Myungho, growing impatient, stepped on the gas, propelling them forward towards a destination where destinies would intersect and choices would define their futures.

As Joshua and Myungho arrived at the port, they spotted Seungcheol's car parked nearby, a silent testament to the unfolding scheme. Joshua swiftly dialed Seungcheol to relay the exact location, establishing the designated meeting point. In the shadows, Myungho concealed himself, poised for the opportune moment to secure you and The Black File.

"Boss," Joshua greeted both you and Seungcheol with a facade of politeness, his demeanor belying the intricate web of betrayal that had been spun. He gestured for both of you to embark on the waiting boat. Seungcheol took the lead, extending his hand to assist you, an innocent enough gesture that masked the underlying deceit.

However, the engine roared to life unexpectedly, disrupting the carefully choreographed plan. Joshua observed Seungcheol's momentary surprise as he, with calculated intent, pushed Seungcheol onto the boat just as it began to glide away. The abrupt departure left you momentarily stranded, only to find yourself being pulled aboard by none other than Myungho.

"Y/N!" Seungcheol's desperate scream echoed through the port, his voice carrying the weight of genuine concern for your well-being. The urgency in his tone betrayed the turmoil within, a realization that the situation had taken an unexpected turn.

Yet, before Seungcheol could comprehend the full gravity of the unfolding events, someone stealthily emerged from the shadows behind him. With precision born from sinister intent, they clamped a hand over Seungcheol's mouth, the cold touch delivering a swift introduction to a sleeping drug. As the sedative took effect, Seungcheol's struggles faltered, and he succumbed to the encroaching unconsciousness.

 The abrupt silence that followed Seungcheol's desperate cry hinted at the abrupt shift in dynamics, leaving only the sound of lapping waves and the muffled breaths of those entangled in a web of deceit.

"Let me go!" Your desperate plea echoed through the air as you struggled within Myungho's unwavering grip. Every fiber of your being seemed determined to break free from the confining hold.

The air crackled with tension as you, fueled by a surge of adrenaline and determination, engaged in a physical struggle with Myungho. Your attempts to break free were met with calculated resistance, his grip unyielding as he maintained control over the situation.

Myungho, seemingly amused by your defiance, continued to taunt, "Give us The Black File, and maybe we'll reconsider your fate." His words hung in the air, a sinister bargain that underscored the high-stakes nature of the unfolding confrontation.

In the midst of this struggle, Joshua stepped forward from the shadows, his expression betraying a mix of amusement and cold detachment. "Y/N, you always were a formidable opponent," he remarked, his voice carrying the weight of shared history now tainted by betrayal.

Undeterred, you fought fiercely against Myungho's hold, refusing to succumb to the impending surrender. The port became an arena for a clash of allegiances, the sounds of the scuffle blending with the distant cries of seagulls and the lapping of the waves against the dock.

A sudden, desperate maneuver afforded you a brief respite, breaking free from Myungho's grasp. As you distanced yourself, the intensity of the confrontation hung in the air, a palpable tension that mirrored the fractured alliances in this shadowed port.

 

In that fleeting moment, your eyes met Joshua's, sparking a glimmer of recognition. A shared history echoed in that exchange—a whisper of the camaraderie that once bound you together. The gravity of the betrayal seemed to pause briefly as the weight of the past flickered in your gaze.

 

Yet, the fragile thread of nostalgia snapped as Joshua, devoid of sentiment, raised his hand. A calculated gesture, a silent command to Myungho to resume the pursuit. The camaraderie dissolved into the cold reality of betrayal, leaving you with a bitter taste of disappointment and the knowledge that any remnants of trust had been irrevocably shattered.

"The Black File was with Jeonghan," your voice cut through the tension, a revelation hanging in the air like an electric storm. Joshua and Myungho, masters of manipulation, found themselves momentarily caught off guard. The revelation was a jolt, and vulnerability flickered across their faces, bared for just a moment amid the chaos they had orchestrated.

The port, once a canvas for clandestine alliances, now bore witness to the unraveling of carefully laid plans. The shock on their faces mirrored the seismic shift in power dynamics, a stark reminder that even the architects of betrayal could be blindsided.

Seizing the moment, you acted swiftly, drawing a concealed gun and aiming it at Myungho's stomach. The sudden threat disrupted the calculated dance of deceit, leaving Myungho staggered by the impact of the shot. The crack of gunfire echoed in the night, punctuating the escalating drama.

With the grip on you released, you walked purposefully toward Joshua. "If you really want to get it, then get it by yourself," you asserted, the words laden with a mix of defiance and resolve. The revelation had turned the tables, and now the power dynamic teetered on the edge of retribution.

Raising the gun, you pointed it at Joshua's head, the port's ambient sounds providing an eerie backdrop to this dramatic showdown. "To hell with both of you," you declared, the words carrying the weight of betrayal and the determination to break free from the shackles of their deceit. The air crackled with a charged intensity, marking a turning point in this intricate dance of loyalty and betrayal.

 

*

 

"As we knew, both agents Y/n and Myungho were very diligent and loyal. They were our siblings, our children, our family, and our friends. May their souls rest in peace," solemn words hung in the air, marking the culmination of a funeral that served as a testament to the sacrifices made in the clandestine world of espionage.

As the NIS agents stood united in both grief and silent acknowledgment of the perils they faced daily, the atmosphere remained heavy with the weight of loss. The caskets, side by side, symbolized the interconnected destinies that had led to this tragic end. Flowers adorned the area, a feeble attempt to inject a touch of solace into the stark reality of their fallen comrades.

After the formalities, Wonwoo stepped back from the circle of mourners. His eyes caught a figure wearing a mask and hat lingering in the shadows. Carefully, he approached, recognizing the need for discretion in their covert world. Together, they walked towards where Wonwoo had parked his car earlier.

"Your funeral would pretty much look like that in case you'll curious," Wonwoo remarked, acknowledging the clandestine nature of their existence.

In response, you scoffed and hissed, "Fuck you," tossing the cap and mask onto the backseat. The exchange carried a residue of bitterness, a reminder of the thin line between duty and personal sacrifice in the intricate dance of espionage. The port, once a hub for secrets, now bore witness to the aftermath of lives lived in the shadows and the heavy toll extracted in the pursuit of elusive truths.

A week had passed since the discovery of "your" lifeless body submerged in water alongside Myungho's. The pursuit of Choi Seungcheol had come to a somber close, marked by the tragic demise of two dedicated agents in a public spectacle. The National Intelligence Service (NIS) found itself thrust into the spotlight, with the media seizing the opportunity to expose the agency's inner workings, tarnishing its once-respected image. 

In the aftermath, you handed a necklace to Wonwoo, solemnly instructing him, "Do this last favor for me." Wonwoo, eyebrows raised, initially puzzled, finally grasped the situation. "As Yoon Y/n? Alright, I was taken aback for a sec. Dude, I was just attending your funeral!" he exclaimed in relief.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you replied, "Agent Yoon is no more, Wonwoo. Please welcome the newest persona, Jeon Y/n!" Your announcement was met with your own sense of excitement, while Wonwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes at your characteristic flair for the dramatic. 

If only you didn't promise him big money, he won't let you use his surname.

 

*

 

Two years later, you find yourself standing in front of the iconic statue of Marcus Aurelius in Rome, reflecting on the profound changes that have unfolded since adopting your new identity as Jeon Y/n. Life has taken unexpected turns, leading you down a path of reinvention. Shedding the cloak of espionage, you embraced a role far removed from the covert world – that of a counselor.

Roaming the world, your journey eventually brought you to Rome, a city steeped in history and timeless beauty. A client, seeking solace and guidance, had specifically requested a month of regular sessions. The cobblestone streets echoed with the whispers of ancient stories as you navigated through the enchanting blend of past and present.

As a counselor, your days are now filled with meaningful conversations, helping others navigate the intricate tapestry of their lives. The weight of secrets has given way to the liberation of shared emotions, and the art of healing has become your newfound purpose. The serene atmosphere of Rome serves as a backdrop to these sessions, adding an extra layer of tranquility to the therapeutic journey.

Standing before the stoic statue of Marcus Aurelius, you ponder the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of embracing a new identity. The winds of change have carried you to this moment, where the echoes of ancient wisdom mingle with the whispers of contemporary souls seeking guidance.

Your phone rings, and it's your client representative on the line. "Hi, Ms. Jeon. I would like to inform you that Mr. Lee would be available today at 3 o'clock. I'll send you the location for the counseling session. And I'm so sorry for the sudden reschedule."

You reply calmly, "It's okay, I'll be there first to prepare the counseling session if you don't mind."

The representative reassures you, "It's totally fine. Enjoy your time in Rome."

With the call ended, you take a moment to appreciate the city's timeless charm before gearing up for the upcoming session. The cobblestone streets and ancient architecture seem to whisper tales of resilience, mirroring the very themes you navigate in your counseling sessions. As you await the location details, the anticipation of another transformative encounter with a client adds a layer of purpose to your journey through the heart of Rome.

Arriving at the hotel room designated for today's counseling session, you meticulously organize your materials, mentally preparing for the upcoming encounter. The ambiance of the room exudes a mix of professionalism and quietude, a fitting space for the intricate nature of your counseling work. 

As you immerse yourself in thoughts, the distinct sound of footsteps interrupts your focus. A familiar voice, unexpectedly speaking Korean, greets you. Turning your head, disbelief washes over you as you meet Choi Seungcheol's gaze, his sly smirk adding an element of intrigue.

"You are Mr. Lee?!" you demand, your tone revealing a blend of astonishment and assertiveness. Seungcheol nods, seemingly amused by your reaction.

With a nonchalant tone, he responds, "Nice to meet you, Ms. Jeon. Should we start the session?"

 

*

 

Your breath hitched, lingering in the air, though the kiss had ended moments ago. Seungcheol, face flushed, entered the car, tapping clumsily on unnecessary features of his own car, seemingly surprised by his own actions. As you turned your head toward him, his eyes locked onto yours, a profound connection established as if you had discovered something essential in this vast world.

The sensation surpassed the satisfaction of profits in Seungcheol's clubs or the triumph of a successful case. It was a peculiar feeling, one that transcended tangible accomplishments.

Your gaze drifted to his neck, where a familiar necklace rested. Without a second thought, you grabbed his collar, surprising him once again. "Your necklace," you mumbled, and his eyes followed your gaze.

Seungcheol, flustered, stammered, "M—my necklace. Oh, it was... Shoot! I thought you were gonna kiss me again." His attempt at diversion was met with skepticism.

Locking eyes with him, you asked, "Is this from Jeonghan?" Seungcheol nodded slowly, still in an awkward position, but his gaze remained fixated on your lips.

Closing his eyes, Seungcheol suppressed a surge of longing within him. "Give me," you demanded, suddenly unhooking the necklace. Your proximity was dangerously close, and he swore he could detect the scent of your body.

Seated again, you opened the necklace, revealing something Seungcheol had never known. "You can open it?" It turned out to be a flash drive. Plugging it into your phone, you discovered something crucial that you had been searching for – "The Black Files." Without hesitation, you showed Seungcheol the file on your phone and promptly sent it to Wonwoo.

In the tense atmosphere, with evidence of Joshua's betrayal in hand, Seungcheol's bodyguard unveiled a revelation that brought clarity to the mysteries lingering in Seungcheol's mind. You proposed an audacious plan to Seungcheol, urging him to seek Joshua's assistance for your swift departure to Japan tonight. Initially resistant due to the inherent danger involving you, Seungcheol hesitated, his internal struggle palpable.

"I could be a better fighter than you, Seungcheol," you confidently asserted, persuading him to entertain the daring idea. As Seungcheol reluctantly agreed to be part of the plan, you swiftly connected with Wonwoo, seeking his alliance in this perilous endeavor.

"I just have to hide on the boat and pretend I'm one of their people, right?" Wonwoo's words unveiled his cyber expertise, underscoring the contrast with his lack of field experience.

Rolling your eyes at Wonwoo's comment, you took charge, instructing him, "Pretend to sedate Seungcheol. I know they're after me for The Black Files." The gravity of the situation hung in the air as you navigated the intricate details with determination.

Hooking the necklace back onto Seungcheol's neck, you expressed gratitude, saying, "Thank you for taking care of my brother's stuff." The gesture carried a weight of acknowledgment and trust. As a token of appreciation, you kissed Seungcheol's left cheek, leaving a lingering sense of warmth amidst the impending dangers that lay ahead. 

 

*

 

"So, how have you been since then, Seungcheol?" you gently inquired, your voice breaking the silence that enveloped the car as the complexities of your mission unfolded.

"I'm having a very good life. I was dropped in Japan, and Wonwoo had left me without a word. He was a very cold man," Seungcheol revealed, his tone carrying a hint of abandonment that lingered from his past experiences.

"He is."

"Still? I don't understand how you're still a friend of his," he remarked, curiosity etched across his features, his gaze seeking understanding.

You smiled, your eyes studying his demeanor. "You're different, Seungcheol. I mean in a good way."

Seungcheol responded with a playful smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "How do you know that just by our first session? Am I in good hands?"

Laughter bubbled from you, a refreshing sound amidst the tension. "Thanks for reaching me," you expressed sincerely, the gratitude apparent in your voice.

"I'm more grateful for you, for staying alive," Seungcheol confessed, acknowledging the significance of your presence in his life.

The conversation took an unexpected turn as you playfully probed, "Did you have a crush on me, Seungcheol?"

Caught off guard, Seungcheol blushed, attempting to articulate his feelings. "You know what? Yes, I did have a crush on you, and I might still. But how could someone not? You're amazing and—"

Before he could finish, a sudden peck landed on his lips, catching him by surprise. A genuine smile formed on his face, reflecting the warmth of the moment.

Seizing the opportunity, Seungcheol reached for your hand, pulling you closer. His touch was both gentle and possessive as he cradled your neck, initiating a more passionate exchange of kisses. What began as a simple peck evolved into a deeper connection, emphasizing the unspoken emotions between you.

"I actually like you," he admitted, the confession lingering in the air, signaling a shift in the dynamics of your relationship amidst the intricate dance of the mission's complexities.

 

*

 

"She's indeed so pretty," remarked Seungcheol, a university student whose gaze remained fixed on your figure as you fought fiercely to secure your position as a national Taekwondo athlete.

"Ya! Don't you see she's drenched in sweat? Disgusting..." Jeonghan mumbled, expressing his dissent to Seungcheol's admiration.

"No! I mean, she radiates beauty," Seungcheol clarified, his admiration for you evident in his eyes.

Jeonghan, unimpressed, rolled his eyes. "That's why I never asked you to come to her competition, you moron," he stated, walking away and leaving Seungcheol in a state of starstruck infatuation.

Seungcheol, determined, chased after Jeonghan, making a request that lingered in the air, "Introduce me to her."

"No!" Jeonghan bluntly refused.

"Come on..."

"I said no! Why are you so hard-headed?"

Masterlist

| Seventeen | Monsta X |

Series

Reverse Tropes - One Shot Series of popular tropes turned upside down (rated m)

Seungcheol - Too many beds

Jeonghan - Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Joshua - Really nice guy who hates only you

Jun - Fake amnesia

Hoshi - Bet to make someone fall out of love

Wonwoo - Academic rivals who are fighting to rank last in class

Woozi - Soulmates fated to kill each other

Seokmin - Everyone thinks you're fake dating when you really are dating

Mingyu - Too much communication

Minghao - Divorce of convenience

Seungkwan - True hate's kiss

Vernon - Your mom bought a seventeen member

Dino - Dating your enemies sibling

Camp Seventeen - Series with Seventeen as Greek Demigods (rated m)

| Prologue | Character Profiles | (Taglist)

(Ch. 1) Dildo of Dionysus It's been a week since you stepped foot in Camp Seventeen - as you navigated the days trying to wrap your head around the 13 boys, one's touch and another's voice start to become a bit too bothersome….

(Ch. 2) Aphrodisiacs of Aphrodite As you delve deeper into the world of the demigods, a party throws you spiralling down a road less taken. While it seems there's one member who may be able to help you, there's another you want to lend a hand to. And more.

(Ch.3) Apollo's Anthem As the days in camp seventeen unfold the many burdens you had tucked away in your heart, you dive into the sorrows you had presumably left behind. Thankfully (or not) a musical moment and a menacing monster serve as unforeseen distractions.

(Ch.4) Night at Nyx As many truths come forth, life on camp as you know it begins to change. After living a life which was never your choice, you now had to choose between family and love. But more importantly, would they choose you?

Tales of Time - Series of age old tales with a twist (rated m)

Choi Seungcheol - The Legend of the Sea | Epilogue |

"You're crying? You must be turning Human, the Merfolk don't cry" "Of course we do. Why do you think the Sea is nothing but salt?"

| Yoon Jeonghan | Hong Jisoo | Wen Junhui | Kwon Soonyoung | Jeon Wonwoo | Lee Jihoon | Xu Minghao | Lee Seokmin | Kim Mingyu | Boo Seungkwan | Chwe Hansol | Lee Chan |

Halloween Hearsay - mini series of thrillers for Spooky Season (rated m) - Completed.

Choi Seungcheol - The Intruder's Eye

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't make one want to keep an eye at all times?

Yoon Jeonghan - Anything and Always

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it wasn't regardless of anything and longer than always?

Hong Jisoo - Calendar Killer

Was it really love if it didn't include just a little madness? What was love if it didn't cross the line? And how was it love if it didn't care whether it was the red of love and the red of blood?

Scenarios

Where you belong (3k) One who showed everyone who you belonged to, one who showed you that you couldn't possibly belong to anyone else. Fiancé! Seungcheol × reader, Fiancé! Jeonghan x reader

Where you return (7k) One who you fell in love with, one who fell in love with you. Fuckbuddy! Mingyu x reader, Fuckbuddy! Wonwoo x reader

Where you're convenient One who you married because of a mutual deal, one who you married because of an accident and one who you married because of a promise. Husband! Jisoo × reader pt 1 (6.5k) Husband! Seokmin × reader pt 2 (11k) Husband! Jihoon x reader pt 3 (coming soon)

Imagines

Christmas with Seventeen Seventeen and their little ways of celebrating Christmas with you!

like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.

little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.

★ seungcheol x reader.  ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️‍🩹

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.

When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.

Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.

It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it. 

The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.

There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.

Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse. 

“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles. 

The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels. 

You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice. 

Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows. 

“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.” 

Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw. 

“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. 

Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be. 

April 8, 2017 

Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try. 

It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead. 

I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out? 

I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.

Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.

I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet. 

Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.) 

When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate. 

It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything. 

You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow. 

The mark smoothed out instantly. 

Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple. 

Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds. 

You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment. 

His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” you mutter back. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.” 

An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met. 

You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same. 

“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest. 

He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly. 

You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air. 

Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces. 

He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless. 

“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind. 

But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?” 

That’s always gotten to you. 

“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.” 

In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again. 

June 15, 2017 

Cheol and I are on the run. 

He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in. 

As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying. 

Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”

Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.) 

When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought. 

Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help. 

He did not return unscathed. 

Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you. 

“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”

The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt. 

“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.” 

Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug. 

“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost. 

“No more playing hero?” you ask. 

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again. 

You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin. 

Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?” 

“Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.” 

“Shut up!”

The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him. 

September 23, 2017

Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore. 

I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted: 

The first breeze that tells you winter is coming 

The kindness of people who don’t know you 

The smallest fish in the sea

Date nights with Cheol 

Clean water 

Breakfast

My parents

Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building. 

But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be. 

May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows. 

When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.

Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.

He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine. 

“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.

He was with you. He was kind. He was yours. 

Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs. 

There is not much that you remember after that. 

The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.

The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.

When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt. 

You kiss him. Again.

And again. 

And again. 

December 1, 2017

The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds. 

▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.

You’re so unfair. 

I still want you. 

Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou. 

What now? 

My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—

▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.

This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.

It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty. 

We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved. 

unforgiven 🏹 b.sk (m)

🏹 synopsis: Seungkwan may have been represented by his considerably heartwarming traits, but he ruined his own fate with his vengeful and prideful behavior. Despite his flawed outlook, he can still see you in every lover — until it's you, again.

🏹 genre: greek god au ; second chance romance au ; angst, fluff, smut ; sort of former enemies/rivals to lovers.

🏹 pairing: athena!boo seungkwan x reincarnated arachne!fem!reader | side pairing: eros!mingyu x psyche!tzuyu (twice) | side characters: zeus!seungcheol ; hades!jeonghan ; hephaestus!wonwoo ; hermes!vernon ; eris!saerom (fromis_9)

🏹 word count: 40.8k (and what about it?)

🏹 rating: 18+. minors please do not interact.

🏹 warnings: human x god dynamics. swearing, alcohol. mentions of infidelity, mentions of envy-fueled death, lowkey murder. seungkwan is a perfectionist, reincarnated reader is good at everything. seungkwan can be very hot and cold, reader is way too flirty and toes the line entirely too much. smut warnings: virgin!seungkwan...surprise! multiple scenes (3 shitty ones!), oral (m. & f. rec), fingering (f. rec), unprotected sex (in this economy?!), so much heavy petting (and casual intimacy), frottage, some begging, a bit of dirty talk, lots of pet names (baby, angel, threadling, brat,etc.), dacryphilia and breeding kink if you squint (and i mean really, really squint), praise kink, biting, nipple play, riding, body worship (including the feet...mostly f.rec), a little bit of humiliation.

🏹 what to listen to: run away - tzuyu ; highway to hell - ac/dc ; back to me - the rose ; cinnamon girl - lana del rey ; she's my religion - pale waves ; i'm your baby tonight - whitney houston ; take me back to eden - sleep token ; faithfully - journey ; ruby - woozi ; cry for love - baekhyun ; spell - seventeen ; sailor song - gigi perez ; tattoos - reneé rapp.

🏹 author's note: thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this, and this is for the greek god collab hosted by maren and aeris (link here!) for betas and support: @cheolism, @seokgyuu, and @diamonddaze01! thank you to everyone who forced me to get a fucking grip and just WRITE this. after two months of agonizing over it, writing and rewriting scenes (mostly the smut) and crying over boo seungkwan, it's finally here. seungkwan, my beloved little goblin...the brainrot has been far too real and i hope you get all the love in the world, and that this does you justice for the lack of seungkwan fics on this godforsaken app. xoxo. (star divider by @/enchanthings here on tumblr. link here.)

ONE.

It seemed you and Jeonghan were good friends by the way you speak to each other.

"Back so soon?" He calls, unsurprised. You huff, dusting your knees of rubble before looking up to him sitting cross-legged on his throne, flipping through a newspaper and tapping his pen on his chin. "Tsk, tsk."

"I'm just saying, Seungcheol shouldn't make me the best if he doesn't want me to show it off." You scoff, grimacing at the streaks of ash on your legs.

Jeonghan snorts, "Pride is a sin." Shrugging, you slump over the table before him, ignoring the pain in your diaphragm from the very obvious arrow sticking out of it. He gives you a quirk of his brow, folding the newspaper and folding his hands over his lap. He gives you a pointed look, making you groan. "Hannie, we've been through this so many times. Can't you just send me back?" "You know I can't." He smiles, and you throw a piece of gravel at him. Cerberus growls at you, and you stick your tongue out at the three-headed beast. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, pushing off his seat and tucking his hands into his pockets. "Say you're sorry." "But we know I'd be lying." You try and weasel your way out of begging the god for mercy, but he just gives you a wider grin in response.

"Oh, but you're so pretty when you beg." "You're a fucking freak." You mutter, and he just shrugs.

"You can beg or you can rot. I shouldn't even be giving you a choice, but I just like you so much, darling." He teases, flicking at your forehead. You frown, shoving his hand away before lowering to your knees.

"Come on! I promise I won't be a douche anymore." You exclaim, and Jeonghan just laughs.

"You said that the first time we had to do this. And tell me, Y/N, were you a douche again?" "Saerom deserved it!" You hiss, pointing a menacing finger at the god.

He smirks, a thoughtful look glazing his eyes. "Maybe I should just keep you here. You'd be a nice little pet, I think." He looks around, before you shudder.

"Hell no, you'd probably make me clean the floor with my tongue." You grimace, but sigh in defeat. You feel your cheeks burn in subtle humiliation as you adjust your knees on the gravelly terrain, touching your forehead to the hot pebbles and extending your arms out flat.

You hear Jeonghan clear his throat. "Recite the oath I wrote for you." Groaning inwardly, you feel his boot toe your rib. You scowl up at him, but the glowing maroon of his eyes tell you to get on with it. While this little odd game of Jeonghan's fruitless flirting was entertaining, his process definitely took a lot out of the two of you.

Often why Wonwoo reminds you that you should be grateful Jeonghan keeps letting you get away with it, fighting with Seungcheol constantly over you.

"I apologize." You start, and Jeonghan hums.

"What are you apologizing for?" "I apologize for allowing my pride to overcome my senses and cloud my judgment, allowing me to perform in ways I wouldn't otherwise. I see that my ego has grown further than I can control, and I ask that you allow me to prove that I can be better by returning me to the Overworld and allowing me to perform differently. If I am sent back due to my behavior, I will honor the wishes of those who sent me, and perform under your watchful eye." You're sure Jeonghan can practically hear your eyes rolling, but he sighs nonetheless. "Alright, you goblin. Get up, you're forgiven." You do so excitedly, wiping away any gravel stuck to your skin. Jeonghan smiles at you, a tilt to his head before he speaks in a serious tone, his fingers carefully wrapping around the fletching of the arrow. "This is the last time, Y/N."

You quirk a brow at him as he yanks the arrow out, rolling your eyes. You couldn't really feel anything when you were down here with him, much less did you care about the blood dripping down your front. "Right, same time next week?" He shakes his head, and you feel your brow furrow. "I talked to Seungcheol. We agreed that your presence in the Overworld, while entertaining, is fruitless. You're great at what you do, and the reason Seungcheol allows it is because he's hoping you'll eventually use it for the greater good. In your first life, you decided to challenge Seungkwan of all people. Seungkwan, Y/N." "Listen, just because he–"

"No, Y/N. This is the last time. If you're sent back, you're staying here for good." Jeonghan says sternly, and you think you see a glint of disappointment in his eyes. "You're too smart to keep doing this, stop letting your ego get in the way. You're a mortal, and you will always be a mortal." He turns away from you, and you hear the heavy gates of the Underworld open. Cerberus presents himself next to you, ready to guide you back out. You watch as Jeonghan carefully takes his seat again, and you purse your lips. Your hand rests on the open wound in your torso, feeling a bit of resentment fester in your lower belly.

"How are you sending me back this time?" "I think your original form would be good, no? I know you like the crazy hair colors but we should stick to the blueprint. Maybe then you'll behave." He says, shaking his newspaper off and opening it to the crossword. "Seungkwan regrets hurting you, you know." "Yeah, right." You scoff, feeling a pang in your chest as you recall your first time landing in the Underworld. Jeonghan had nearly sprung out of his seat, his long black hair pinned back by deep purple Gladiolus flowers. You were covered in spider's thread, wrapped tightly in the web and littered with leaves and twigs.

You'd challenged Seungkwan to a weaving contest. Your father had been highly praised amongst mortals for his talent in textiles, leading you to follow his legacy – your weaving had garnered the attention of anyone within a hundred-mile radius. This lead to your chest swelling with pride at the compliments you received, and the business you were able to bring your father. But, like Icarus, you'd flown a bit too close to the Sun. You started boasting that not even the wisest and craftiest of gods could rival your talent – even going as far as saying that Seungkwan, the god of wisdom and craft, would fail at creating something even worth his weight in silk.

Once word reached him in Olympus, he agreed to face you. He presented himself in Lydia, quickly guided to the home you shared with your father by looking for your tapestries. The owl on his shoulder blinked at you, a soft chirp from its beak as you carefully lugged out a loom to your backyard, unaware of his presence.

Seungkwan had watched you carefully from his spot behind a few bushes, something Jeonghan had later told you as he unwrapped you from the web you were bound by. You soaked up the sun in your long dress, before carefully stretching your fingers and threading the yarn through the loom. You seemed at ease with the loom, comfortably and confidently weaving the yarn through your nimble fingers.

What Jeonghan didn't tell you? Seungkwan – though turned off by your ego –  was enthralled by you, his attraction only heightened by your beauty. He would've never assumed that you would blatantly boast god-like talent without an ounce of respect. It seemed now that he was wrong, as he watched the way your pride practically seeped out of your fingers as they did what you knew best. He couldn't help but feel a bit of jealousy tangle in his stomach.

Seungkwan waited three nights to return to your home, taking shelter in the forest around your town. He returned peacefully, with a clear mind as he knocked on your door. He heard soft laughter and a gentle reassurance to your aging father as you gracefully opened the door. Your eyes were hidden behind your plump cheeks, full lips spread into a smile as you greeted him.

"Hello." He didn't respond nor introduced himself, only scanning you quietly. His eyes lingered on your lips, before noting your bandaged fingers folded neatly in front of your apricot-colored skirt.

"Can I help you, sir? Are you here on business?" You'd had no idea who was in your presence. Your warm smile almost made him forget who he was.

"You're Y/N, right?"

"That's me, sir. What can I help you with? Oh, we just got a shipment of beautiful violet yarn. It's dyed–"

"I'm Seungkwan. You said you could out-weave anyone."

Your expression changed at that, your smile turning into a smirk as you looked down at your bandaged fingers.

"A god is threatened by me?" Your voice had been teasing, but it only managed to irritate him.

"On the contrary, I quite enjoy your little act. What am I, if not a just and fair opponent?" With that, your gaze hardened slightly, and you extended your hand. He shook it carefully, watching as you walked to the center of your village, your fingers reaching for the cornucopia carefully held by a stone carving of Dionysus. You brought it to your lips, blowing what seemed to be a memorized tune.

Children flooded out of homes, followed by their parents and even some domesticated animals trailed around. Everyone smiled at your presence in the center of the village as you replaced the cornucopia.

"Everyone, I thank you for coming out. It seems we've got a visitor." You'd gestured towards Seungkwan, earning various gasps and even a scream from a young child in the crowd. Murmuring had quickly started, your bandaged hands calling for their attention as you waved them around.

"Seungkwan, the god of wisdom, craft and strategy…has come to accept my challenge." There hadn't been much speaking after that – the villagers quickly moved to watch as your father and a few other people moved looms out for you and Seungkwan. Your fingers quickly threaded the yarn through yours, watching as Seungkwan took his time unraveling it and threading it through. He noted your impatience through the flare of your nostrils.

The villagers watched in awe as the two of you wove like your lives depended on it – though, your art told different stories. The people had heard tales of Seungkwan's relentless discipline, only confirmed as he weaved those tales into each corner of his tapestry – and it caused a bit of anxiety to fester in their stomachs. His tapestry held symbols of peace, his infamous olive branch weaved into every space he could fit it.

Your tapestry told tales of Seungcheol – the god of the sky and his countless romantic escapades. You shunned him, intricately weaving each and every face of his lovers with yarn and creating a bigger battle to be faced by the god himself. You took the thrill and rush of the callout to continue onto the god of music, weaving Jihoon's lyre into the tapestry with tales of his manipulation of mortals with his song, as well as his scorn. You even went as far as involving who would one day become one of your closest friends – the god of the Underworld, Jeonghan.

You wove mercilessly, spilling truths that were unbeknownst to you. You expressed resentment against Jeonghan with your yarn, spewing hatred of his isolation and cruelty towards the damned. You implemented his manipulation of other gods and mortals, his way with words and the imposement of his feelings upon the damned.

You flew too close to the Sun.

Seungkwan watched as you fell frantic with pride, your fingers working almost overtime as you burned through yarn like there was no tomorrow. He was impressed, but his expression hardened at your disrespect of the gods. What could you, a mortal, ever understand about being a god? What could you, a simple village girl who sold tapestries for a living, understand about pressure and having to guide all those to wander to where they need to be? Who were you to judge a god for having multiple lovers – had you ever had one? Who were you to talk down on a god for being cold and isolated, when you were the very same – boasting about your pride, isolating yourself to perfect a craft that would lead you to your demise? Who were you, to complain about the blessed tune of a god, can you do anything other than weave your loud-mouthed opinions?

The damned. That's who you were, if not who you would become.

"That's enough." He'd stopped you just as you reached the end of your yarn, tearing through the tapestry you'd woven before him. Your mouth fell, watching as the god ripped your work to shreds. You, ever so human…said exactly what passed through your head.

"You gods could never imagine someone to be better than you. You, of all gods, could never accept someone that's more capable than you. Someone faster, someone wiser–"

Seungkwan decided your idea of friendly competition had taken a turn for the worse. He simply held the shreds of your work in his hands, and gave you a stern look. "Pride will get you killed, you know." And, it did. However, you didn't exactly know how, and neither did Jeonghan – just that you were wrapped in the web, with spider-like limbs protruding amongst the rubbish tangled in the spindle and your dark hair framing your tear stained face.

It seemed you couldn't get enough of the thrill, though.

You begged Jeonghan to set you free and send you back – but Jeonghan knew of your insults directed at him through your tapestry. He'd clicked his tongue at you, eyeing your clothing. Your skirt was made of only the finest thread, your fingers bleeding through the taped cloth on them. Your hair was tangled and your skin was dull, and you were truly coming to the realization that that was all you were. A human, a mortal. A plaything, if he so desired.

Nothing in comparison to Jeonghan. Nothing in comparison to Seungcheol, Jihoon and, as much as you hated to admit it, Seungkwan.

He'd made you apologize, and he kept you in the Underworld for three days and three nights. By then, Wonwoo had come to fetch you – called by Jeonghan and Seungcheol. You'd met Wonwoo several times, often trading your finest tapestries for anything he'd give you.

He'd made you and your father a special pair of scissors in exchange for a woven satchel and the cloak you'd made of hemp for him, dyed carefully with safflower petals. He wore them as he sauntered into the Underworld, bearing a gift for Jeonghan – a pomegranate, forged from bronze and riddled with garnets of all shapes and sizes. He offered Jeonghan it as a trade-off for you, and the god accepted – not saying anything about you being free to return to the Overworld. But not without a catch, and not without a punishment.

What was the catch? 

You looked nothing like yourself. You were…different. Different slopes in your nose, different curves of your ears and your legs shorter. Your fingers permanently bruised from your past life of weaving and hubris.

And it happened again, and again, and again – until Jeonghan expected you to crash into the graveled ground like a spider falling from the sky. He'd always give you the same look, the same sigh, and the same flirtatious routine. Though, the more he saw you, the more he grew fond of you. He enjoyed humiliating you, watching you squirm under his gaze – but by your eighth visit, he was tired of the act.

Wonwoo was the only one who knew how much you'd been thrust in and out of the Underworld, offering you his spare room. He and his wife had long separated, so you were simply filling the void of a companion for him.

The punishment for your shenanigans? You lost your father, and didn't get to say goodbye.

Wonwoo took care of him, from a distance, while you were routinely jostled through the experience of living and dying, and physical change. Your father was never allowed any information about you, simply being told that you'd disappeared. No one expected him to live on in peace without his only daughter –  and he fell ill with worry and stress – leaving the god of fire to beg Seungcheol to let you return to him for a final goodbye. Seungcheol refused, and your father died after three nights of hard rainfall. 

Your punishment was not the worst there was. You knew that – but it still aches deep within. You challenged anyone and anything, you didn't really care to find a cure for your pain. You fought against anyone who would allow you to – your latest quest proving that you could entice anyone into a fight far quicker than Saerom, the goddess of discord and strife.

She obviously didn't take too kindly to that, sending you back down to the Underworld with a golden arrow in your chest. Leading you to this very conversation with Jeonghan – potentially your last ever conversation with him where he doesn't banish you to the depths of hell with all those who have wronged him.

You sigh, glancing down at your fingers. The same bloodied cloth from all those years ago reappeared on your hands, your bruised fingertips softly throbbing. Your apricot skirt hung carefully on your hips, the bandage top now carefully wrapped around your torso. You felt the weight of your jewelry return to your ears and neck, the singular ruby ring sitting snugly around your right thumb.

"Are you sure? Won't they remember me?" You ask softly, and for once, Jeonghan can see inner turmoil. He shakes his head. "Everyone has either left or died. And, you're always welcome to move around as well. As far as I know…they need a weaver in Olympus."

You look up to see Jeonghan's maroon eyes glint with mischief, his smile wide as Cerberus grunts next to you. Seeing your lips curl gently, he waves his fingers at you. "I'll see you in a few decades, yeah?"

Nodding, you take a deep breath before turning your back on him, seeing the three-headed beast begin to lead the way out. "I'll see you, Jeonghan."

TWO.

Seungkwan was restless.

He promised his life to this. A life of being just, a life of being fair, a life of being a pure and sound god with nothing but the best of intentions for the mortals he helped guide. A life of losing himself, and his own desires, in order to be there for those who truly needed help, those who were truly in need of guidance and a path to follow.

He was there to answer questions and solve problems. He was there to make decisions for everyone who needed him to.

Who answers his questions? Who solves his problems, who makes decisions for him when he is too overwhelmed to think for himself? Nobody. If he doesn't do it, it simply won't get done.

He'd even attempted to take lovers in, trying to kiss and touch his way out of his own stress only to pull away before things got too heated. He couldn't, in good faith, allow himself to submit to just anyone. The mortals were just excited to be with a god, someone who could easily break them, someone who was deemed an esteemed part of their community – he didn't want them to see him like that, not during an intimate affair. He wasn't just a notch on a bedpost; he too, felt things. He'd see hurt flash through their eyes as he casted them away, shame radiating off his shoulders as they gathered their clothing and left his temple.

He felt like something was missing in all of them. He thought about it tirelessly – he felt attracted to them. He felt lust, he felt desire, but nothing got him to the point where he felt it could be quenched. His yearning for someone deeper, someone real, someone deserving of him ate away at his heart.

He sighed, hearing the echo of his shoes against the marble tile of the temple. He'd had a long day, only to be rang with yet another qualm – a mortal who searched for a job was granted access to his temple, and had been sent by Jeonghan and brought to the sacred home by Vernon, Wonwoo, and Cerberus.

Jeonghan said the mortal was good at almost anything and everything, and was looking for a mentor to take her under as she had no remaining family in all of Olympus. Vernon and Cerberus came into view as Seungkwan reached the open doors of the temple, hearing soft laughter rip through the air as Wonwoo appeared as well, but it wasn't from him.

He sees a bandaged hand resting lightly on Wonwoo's shoulder, a hint of an apricot skirt peeking from behind Vernon's leg.

"I've missed you, Wonwoo."

His ears perk at the tone of voice. It's soft, it's melodic, it's teasing. 

He clears his throat, the three-headed beast flaring its nostrils as Seungkwan takes the steps down to the gathered polycule. Wonwoo smiles at him, something mirrored by Vernon as he quickly spins around. Cerberus carefully lowers to the ground, watching Seungkwan's every move as he clears his throat again.

"Gentlemen?" He questions, and Wonwoo steps aside. He sees the long, dark hair he spun into cobwebs so long ago flowing freely down your back once more. The sliver of your honeyed skin peering through the white bandage top you wore, your taped fingers folded in front of the loose apricot skirt you wore that very day.

"Hello." You speak softly, and Seungkwan doesn't reply as your smile reaches your eyes, the same way it had the first day he'd met you. He looks at Vernon, who shrugs. Wonwoo does the same, before holding up his satchel.

"She won't take up much space, and she can help you with anything you need here. Jeonghan said to talk to Seungcheol if you have any issues." Wonwoo seems to speak as though his word is law, making Seungkwan's jaw tick. They knew how meticulous he was – a place for everything and everything in its place. His home was holy to him, his gardens crafted so not even a single blade of grass was out of place. His windows washed morning and night to let the light in perfectly, his meals like clockwork.

He wasn't sure if there was a place for you here.

Seungkwan can't bring himself to say anything to Wonwoo and Vernon, who seem dead set on leaving you here. You carefully open Wonwoo's satchel, holding out a hemp sash. It was dyed a soft olive green, likely from nettle or dandelion leaves.

"For you. They said you like green." He sucks his teeth, taking it gently from your hands and draping it over his forearm. Wonwoo smiles to himself as you move to stand by Seungkwan's side, who shuffles a bit away from you. Seungkwan was never one to shy away from a mortal, he took his job seriously.

"Well." Vernon gives a smirk, one full of mirth as he pats the scaly beast next to him. "It's best we get going, Wonwoo here has got quite the journey back to Lydia." "So you're just going to leave her here?" Seungkwan asks, a bit of a bite in his tone making Wonwoo grin.

"You'll find a job for her, right? She's good at everything, she can even make you tapestries to help decorate. Your place feels like a prison sometimes." Seungkwan scowls at this, the older man reaching to pinch his cheek gently. "We'll see you around, Boo. We'll come check on you every few weeks, try not to rip each other's heads off." The men turn on their heels and saunter off without so much as a second glance or word to either of you. He can feel you practically vibrating as they walk into the distance. He doesn't know if it's nerves or excitement, but he can't bring himself to ask as he notices your body is covered in quite a thick layer of grime. There is black streaks of dirt all over your shoulder, your arms covered in green, likely from dying the sash.

"You need a bath." He states, missing your scowl as he turns, marching back into the temple quickly. You pull your skirt up to scamper after him, your worn leather sandals clicking against the tile. He silently leads the way to a large bathroom, a clawfoot tub in the center surrounded by beautiful herbal soaps and sprigs of lavender and rosemary.

"Have you any other clothing?" He asks, carefully turning the knobs of the tub and receiving a steady flow of water.

He rings his ringed fingers under it as you shake your head. "No, just…this."

You gesture at your dirty clothing, making him click his tongue as he nods. "I'll find something. Feel free to use anything here, and I'll be back."

He can feel your eyes trail after him as he leaves, before hearing the soft thwip of your clothing being pulled off your body, the jingle of your jewelry being pooled together. He hears the splash of the water as you lower yourself into the tub, and a hum as you test the temperature.

He scurries off to his bedroom, throwing open a few of his drawers to see if he has anything he could offer you. You looked exactly the same as before, but he'd sworn that you'd died. He'd wrapped the cobweb so tight, he was sure you would have kicked the bucket at some point.

But, here you were. As if you didn't remember, as if nothing had happened between the two of you that would make you want to hate him. He had to tell you, right? It was the just thing to do, the honest and right thing to do.

He grimaces to himself, yanking a white chiton out of his drawer. It'd been a gift from a former lover, but it'd be your pajamas for the night. He shuffles around for towels, taking the softer ones out of his closet before trekking back out and hearing you hum a soft melody. One that reminded him of Jihoon, his tunes of love and desperate isolation.

When you come back into view, your entire body is submerged below the soapy water. The bandages on your fingers soaked through as your hand dangles over the edge of the tub, your thumb ring a sparkling contrast. Your legs are crossed, one foot in the air as you examine your toes. It was like it was your first time on Earth.

"Here." He drapes the items over the towel rack a few inches away, and you look up at him. Your face was stained as well, a few odd lines likely from streaming tears paving their way through the dirt on your cheeks. You give him a smile.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" You ask gently, and he sighs, folding his hands in front of him before nodding. You sit up, your bare chest peeking over the soap as he looks away. "I can't…my fingers are really messed up."

You hold your hand up, the bandages threatening to peel off before you close your fingers again. "Can you wash my hair?" This is innocent. Even seeing you in the nude, meant nothing to him. He'd done this for dozens of mortals who had worked under him. He knew he was a tough guy to please, his perfectionism often shown in the pricking of his pupils' fingers and their sore joints. He nods.

"As you wish." He moves around as you adjust, dragging a stool from behind the door to the tub and lingering at a shelf in the wall. "Rosemary? Lavender? Thyme?" He gestures at the jars of infused shampoos, and you shrug your shoulders.

"Whatever you'd like is fine." He plucks the rosemary shampoo off the shelf, opting to roll his sleeves up and sliding his rings off before he sits at the stool. He shoves the rings in his pocket, before running his fingers under the running water once more to ensure its warmth.

"Lean back for me." He murmurs, and you tilt your head back, letting the water stream over your hairline and brows. Your eyes flicker open, watching as his hands gently card through the tangled locks, carefully undoing the knots you'd acquired.

It's not long before his dull nails are working the shampoo into your scalp softly, making your shoulders sag in relief. He assumes you'd been gone for a very long time, probably under the watchful eye of Jeonghan and whatever other damned souls were down there. He scratches behind your ears softly, making you shiver and close your eyes as you lean into the touch.

"How long has it been since you've had a bath?" He asks aloud, and you sigh quietly. 

"In this form, or the others?" 

"The others?" He echoes, and you peel an eye open to look at him.

"I remember you, you know." He tries not to let relief show in his face as he nods with an unimpressed look. "I figured as much, otherwise Jeonghan wouldn't have sent you here. Your second chance is my punishment." "My ninth chance." You murmur as he tilts your head back into the running water, the shampoo running off the sides. You close your eyes again, and Seungkwan says nothing as he rakes his fingers through your hair. He gently rubs the dirt off your cheeks before you move away.

"I don't expect you to like me, nor do I expect you to do me any favors beyond this one. I'm only here because Jeonghan said he wouldn't send me back again, so I have to be on my best behavior." You mutter, sitting up before tugging your bandages off with your teeth and flinging the wet cloth onto the floor by your dirty clothes. Seungkwan grimaces, before watching as you grab a bar of soap and run it under the water.

"I can take care of myself. You can go now." You say, the gentle tone gone as you lather the soap off the bar and gently work it into your face. Your fingers are so bruised he worries they hurt. 

He stands, replacing the stool to its rightful spot and moving towards the door, stopping at the threshold. "Your room is down the corridor to the left. You are the only other person in the temple, so you will have to work with me if you want to stay here. I hope that's understood." He doesn't give you a chance to reply before closing the bathroom door behind him, almost slamming it as he walks away. He walks to his kitchen, dragging a tub of beeswax his previous pupil had collected carefully over the course of her time in his temple. She tended to his gardens, before sending her on her way back to her village with a new skill to use for profit.

He can hear you clamber about, but chooses to focus on his task. He's carefully melting the beeswax in a pot, when he hears you walking around the temple. He doesn't move except to gather his ingredients – peppermint oil, calendula infused oil, olive oil. It would help your fingers, and hopefully you wouldn't be so stuck in your ways this time that you end up hurting yourself trying to be the best.

Something he has yet to learn how to stop doing – but if he admits to imperfection, if he admits to flaws, is he a god? You're pacing around the temple and taking everything in, he can practically hear you murmuring to yourself as you wander into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the dining table.You catch yourself, and he continues to watch you out of the corner of his eye as you pick through the fruit in the bowl. You pull an apple, rubbing the skin against his chiton. 

Your teeth sink into the flesh of the fruit, the crunch satisfying to his ears as you inch closer to him. You're peering over his shoulder, when he finally speaks.

"Do you always just make yourself at home?" He asks, and you're so close to him he can practically feel the shrug of your shoulders. 

"This is home, isn't it? I'm here for a while, maybe the rest of my measly, mortal life. Might as well be a nuisance to you, oh wise one"

You're teasing him, provoking him. He knows he shouldn't buy into it, that's what landed you back here in the first place. "Watch it." He snaps, and you giggle behind him.

"Whatever you say." Your words are drawn out as you prance out of the room, a hum from your throat as you do so. He grumbles to himself as he measures out everything perfectly, heating everything just right so it will help your fingers in the best way possible. He should be freaking out. He should be storming the Underworld right now, demanding Jeonghan take you back to whatever hell you were in before he sent you to him. He should be angry that you're in his presence, your ego so hard to swallow even when now you've only been sent back as a way for Seungkwan to right his wrongs. Or so he thinks.

However, just as you are vain and you are prideful, Seungkwan is selfish and Seungkwan is intolerant of your disrespect. It could very well be a challenge not only sent by Jeonghan but by Seungcheol, to prove his worthiness and show that he can be perfect, too.

Not that any of the gods were perfect by any means.

He sighs, carefully pouring the mixture into a tin, where it'll slightly solidify and you'll be able to use it as a salve for your tired hands. And eventually, your tired feet, because you certainly won't have any downtime.

He carefully walks back towards his bedroom, the hot tin in his hand as he does so. Your head of curls is seen ducking into the room, and he tries to hold back his annoyance as he turns into the room as well.

"What are you doing here?" He announces as you throw open his shutters, the moonlight illuminating the room and your frame as you stare out the window at the rolling hills of his backyard. You don't look back at him as you take another bite of your apple, crossing your arms and leaning on the windowsill before responding around your food.

"I told you, this is my home now, too." He doesn't respond, choosing to slide the hot tin onto his vanity before carefully slipping his shirt over his head, the worn wool tossed into a woven basket by the door. You're not looking at him, but he's hoping you'll get the hint and get out as he disappears into his closet. He removes the rest of his attire, grabbing his robe and tying it around himself before exiting the closet to see you now draped across his reading chair, a lit candle in your hand as you skimmed his open books.

"You have books in your room," he calls, and your eyes twinkle with something he can't place as you blow out the candle. He watches as you replace it gently, and push off his chair. 

"Goodnight, wisest one." You blow him a kiss as you skip out of his room, and he feels like he might be stuck in a constant state of déjà vu. He shakes his head, grabbing a towel before heading towards the bathroom. He sees your clothes still gathered on the floor, struggling not to roll his eyes as he drapes his towel over the rack, carefully picking your clothes up and placing them inside a wooden basket by the door. He turns the water on, and is about to take his robe off when he hears you knock at the door.

"Kwannie? Can I call you Kwannie?" You call, and he tongues his cheek in annoyance as he flings open the door. 

"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?" You shrug, "I don't like my bed. Can I have yours?" He scoffs out a laugh, before seeing you blink up at him owlishly. "You're not being serious." "But I am, Kwannie! I'm a guest, you wouldn't let your guest sleep on that horrible bed, would you? You're a gracious host." Your hands are holding onto the fabric of his robe, your thumbs circling it before his hands are on your wrists, pulling them off him.

"You take what you're given, threadling." His voice is stern, and he's about to close the door when he sees the pout on your lips, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before sighs. "Fine, take the bed." "Really!?" You squeal, making him shut the door in your face. 

"Don't. Just go to bed."

Seungkwan couldn't stop thinking after that. He quietly slipped into his bedroom after his bath, seeing you sound asleep with his pillow covered in your mess of curls. Your lips were slightly parted, slivers of your teeth illuminated by the moonlight. He took the moment to look closely at your face, a few surface-level scars scattered across your skin. Your eyes were thickly lashed and you had deep bags from lack of rest.

You left the other side of the bed with the covers pulled back, almost inviting him to slide in with you. He eyes it, taking the pillow and tucking it under his arm.

He sat at his desk, watching your even breathing as he slid the pillow against his lower back. He wonders who else you challenged and why they sent you back. He wonders why they gave you so many chances as a mere mortal, and why Seungcheol didn't strike you down the moment your insults gained wind.

"Stop staring at me."

Your voice rang through the room, and Seungkwan just tilted his head.

"No." Your head moves up slightly, and you sigh. "Whatever." You roll onto your side, facing away from the open window. The moonlight now shines on your back and legs, and he notes the way your feet peek out from under the wool blanket. Your toenails are painted in a chipped carmine, and he simply sighs to himself as he crosses his arms over his chest and attempts to get comfortable in the wooden rocking chair.

"You'd be much more comfortable on the bed." You call, and he hums in response. His head rests against the wooden rest, crossing his legs at the ankles as you sit up. "Seungkwan." "Yes, threadling?" His eyes are closed, hands folded in his lap as he responds. He shows no interest in what you could possibly have to say. You're just another chore to him, another mission he must complete to prove himself. He'd be a fool to fall for your charms, or your deceptions. You could flirt all you want, you could challenge him all you want – but he won't give in to you.

Not again.

THREE.

The night had continued without another word from either of you, and you were not in bed when he woke up. He heard the soft running of water and assumed you decided to bathe once more. Seungkwan's back was incredibly sore, but he rose with the sun anyway. He stretched on his patio, before retreating into the kitchen to make breakfast – spotting you tinkering in there already.

You're not wearing what he gave you yesterday – instead, a red, glittering sash from his collection bunched and pinned, tied around your waist like a skirt. It dropped to your mid-thigh, and your chest was covered by a pinned piece of white linen you'd likely found in his closet, something he didn't have use for.

You really knew how to make something out of almost nothing.

You stood in front of his stone oven, holding the wooden peel as a staff and tapping your bare foot against the marble floor. He peers over your shoulder to see a dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt above the flame. Your eyes are illuminated by the fire baking it, and your shoulders jump when you hear him speak behind you.

"What are you doing?" "Making bread. We should really go to the market, you've run out of fish." You respond, gesturing to the table. He looks over his shoulder, seeing an array of fresh fruit and goat cheese neatly placed on plates from his cupboard. There is a pile of juiced oranges and a few carrot peels in his compost bin, and the juice sits in a pitcher next to the jar of honey.

"I left a salve for you on the vanity. Did you put it on?" He asks, not moving from behind you. You nod, holding up your free hand. Your fingers are freshly bandaged, this time in strips of linen. The salve was carefully spread around your fingertips.

"Why are you being so nice to me? You killed me off eight years ago, what makes now any different?" Your question catches him a bit off guard. His head whips up to look at you, and sees you already staring down at home. The flame in your eyes is just as intense, if not more, than the one in the oven. It's like you resent him.

"I'm not a human. I don't have to admit or explain anything to you, we're not the same." He speaks with confidence, and it only makes your brow furrow deeper.

"You don't have to be human to admit your wrongdoings. You killed me off because I made you look bad, Seungkwan." He scoffs, adjusting his pajama shirt. "I sent you to the Underworld because your ego was absolutely suffocating. I don't understand how anyone within a ten-foot radius wasn't crushed by the sheer weight of your hubris."

"Isn't this my land, too? Isn't this where I can express my feelings and my rights, where I can–" His hand comes up, cutting you off just like he did the day you left.

"You are a human. You can train to be the best, you can try to do whatever you desire in this world. You will never be perfect, therefore you cannot compare where you don't compete." He can tell the words hurt you as your eyes glaze over slowly, but you refuse to back down.

"I may not be perfect, but you're also far from it." You grumble, turning away from him to take the bread out of the oven. "Being a god means nothing. You're just like me, all you've got is something fancy to show for it. Something that proves that there are favorites in this world. Without your so-called wisdom, without your so-called perfect presentation, you'd be just like me." He doesn't speak, feeling a bit of fury pool in his stomach.

You carefully pull the bread out of the oven, sliding it onto the cooling rack you left on the counter. You adjust the wooden peel against the wall, before turning to him with one last slip of your tongue.

"You may be a god. You may be good at what you represent, you may be rich in wealth and you may be handsome. Your fellow gods boast your compassion, but you've shown me none. You are nothing but a frail shadow of a man playing pretend, nothing but someone who lacks what life is truly rich with – love." His eyes scan your face.

"What would you even know about love?" He doesn't like the way you smile at him.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you? You'd want me to tell you all my secrets, to show you what it's like to be normal and not have to live up to anyone's unrealistic expectations." You're stepping closer, a finger to his chest as you speak. "You'd love to know what the touch of a woman feels like, what it's like to be coddled and kissed and touched until you can't think anymore." You're so close that your lips are brushing the shell of his ear now, and he can feel your lips curl into a smirk as you whisper.

"You want to be forgiven for your sins, but you know if you ever so much as think of telling anyone how much of a screw-up you really are, you'll be seen as less than. Less than your peers, and a disappointment to your elders. You want to be loved, but to be loved is to be known. I don't think you're ready for that."

He feels you brush past him, and his face heats in embarrassment as he hears your feet patter away, and the door of your bedroom shut tightly.

He ignores the tear that slips down his face, letting it drip onto the floor as he scans the array of breakfast once more. He's not hungry. He hates that you've chipped a bit away at his façade, he hates that you're able to read him so easily. It only means he has to try harder to dominate this relationship.

The rest of the day was filled with nothing but silence and tension. 

After your encounter in the kitchen early that morning, it seemed you had no interest in interacting with Seungkwan. He didn't really care, taking the time instead to make the trip to the market. He'd heard you rustling about in your bedroom before he made his leave, and assumed you were trying to make yourself comfortable.

It'd begun raining after he left, making him agitated as he watched vendors put up their tarps in the market. He carefully roamed through the market, picking the best produce amongst the selections. He even stopped by a textile tent and picked out a few fabrics for you, assuming you'd need more clothing. He packed everything and made his way home, parasol over his shoulder as he arrived.

Only to enter the temple and see the oven aflame again, but you are nowhere near it. A loud roll of thunder sounds overhead, and he hears a soft sigh from the gardens. He leaves the items he got on the table, quickly making his way towards the garden doors to see you standing with your hands clasped behind your back, your clothing clinging to your skin as you let the rain drench you.

"You're going to get sick." He calls from the threshold, and you only peer over your shoulder at him. Shrugging, you turn back to look over the flower field he'd carefully curated, and he sees a few sprigs of lavender tucked over your ear. Your hair has been long soaked, sticking to your shoulders and back as he groans inwardly.

"Y/N, come inside."

"No." You turn to face him. "I like the way it feels." "The rain? It's cold and you're wet, your clothes are ruined." He says pointedly, and you shrug once more, looking up at the sky. 

"We were born naked, we will die naked. Who cares?" "You're being existential and it's freaking me out, come inside." He rolls his eyes, and you tilt your head at him. 

"Why don't you come out here? Have you ever danced in the rain?" "I don't dance, Y/N. Now, come on. I won't ask again." You seemingly oblige, slowly strolling back to the limestone and stopping a few feet in front of him. He steps to the side, assuming you'll walk inside. You shake your hand, holding your hand out. "Dance with me." He rubs his temples, a grimace on his face. "Didn't you say Jeonghan told you to be on your best behavior? This doesn't seem like very good behavior." "He said best behavior when you're bossing me around, not when I get to simply exist. It won't kill you to indulge me, aren't you supposed to be warm and welcoming?" You argue, your hand not dropping from where you've extended it.

"I'm supposed to guide you so you don't do something stupid, and you're here so I can ensure that your life can bring you something of fruit. Now, come inside, before I bring you in here myself." He's stern, but he can't help and notice the way your eyes flash as you take a step back.

"You're going to have to catch me, then." You're shrugging dramatically, and Seungkwan groans. 

"Y/N, don't do this." "I like it when you beg." You smirk, taking yet another step back. His jaw ticks and he sees you sprint off the limestone patio and into the flower field. He crosses his arms, letting you get as far as the marigolds before he sighs inwardly, stepping out into the rain and walking towards the field. "Gotta be faster than that, Seungkwan!"

He scowls at your teasing, feeling his stomach churn as he breaks into a jog, watching as you twirl into the zinnias. He doesn't like this, feeling like he's following your lead because you refuse to respect him as a god. He doesn't like the fact that he feels his shoulders less tense at the idea of it, and his mind has only the goal of dragging you inside before you get sick.

"Missed me, missed me!" You call, even making a show of doing a curtsy into the tulips. He's close enough to grab you, but waits. Your back is turned to him when he grabs your arm, pulling you to him. 

"Y/N, this is not a game." He mutters as you let him tug you close, a smile on your lips proving your enjoyment at making him work to catch you.  

"Yet, you played along." You reply coyly, before he rolls his eyes, and you nearly scream as he single-handedly throws you over his shoulder. 

"No more of this. You're going to have a bath and we're going to eat and go to bed. The real work starts tomorrow." You're silent as he walks the two of you back to the temple, feeling your cheeks hot at the placement of his ringed fingers around your thigh. You don't really like Seungkwan, because, well – you resent him for having sent you to the Underworld over friendly competition. But, you're still just a woman, and the feeling of his warm fingers gripping your skin was proof of carnal desire's existence within you.

He sets you down in the threshold, his nimble fingers making quick work of the pins in the makeshift skirt you'd wrapped yourself in earlier that morning. This seemed normal for him, gathering the pins between plump lips as he nearly ripped your top off. You weren't complaining, his knuckles brushing against your skin gently. "Go. Bathe. You'll get sick."

"Seems like an excuse just to see me naked, Seungkwan." "Go." His voice holds a bite before he gathers your hair in his hand, carefully wringing the water out just outside the doorway. A soft push of his damp hand on your shoulder makes you move forward, and you make your way to the hallway, peering over your shoulder to see the god grimacing as he peels his own top off, a low whistle from your lips before you disappear down the hall.

You can hear him groan as he walks around, likely cold from the rain. "Would you like to join me?" You call, and hear a scoff from the kitchen.

He doesn't respond, and you hear the trickle of water into the sink. You assume he's wringing your clothes out, and you shrug as you draw yourself a bath once more. You scour his shampoo jars carefully, this time grabbing the citrus one. The bathroom quickly fills with soft basil and grapefruit notes, and you sink yourself into the warmth of the water.

You don't know how much time has passed when you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door, and Seungkwan clearing his throat before asking if he can come in. You hum in approval, choosing to keep your eyes closed as he opens the door. You wear the soft brush of his robe against the door, and you ignore the disappointment settling in your stomach.

"I got you these at the market. I figured we'd be able to make something of them." He holds up a few pieces of linen, different patterns catching your eyes as you peel them open. You nod excitedly, leaning over the edge of the tub to look closer. "I have pins and sewing needles somewhere around here, we can get some measurements done when you're out." He says pointedly, giving you a quick once over before he holds up a towel and places it on the rack. "Be quick." "Don't you also need a bath?" You ask, leaning your cheek on your palm. 

He gives you a quizzical look. "Did you expect me to take it with you?" "Would that kill you? To be enticed by a human?" Your smile is sly, but he rolls his eyes. 

"Mortals and gods are meant to interact, Y/N." "Have you ever slept with one?" 

His brow furrows, before he scoffs. "Do you always ask such personal questions?" Shrugging, you lean back into the water. "Just wanted to know. I know some humans like sleeping with gods, it makes them feel important or whatever." You roll your eyes, and he just waves you off.

"I've no need to sleep with a mortal. There's a certain insatiability to humans that I simply don't have time for." He states, and you look up at him with squinted eyes. 

"You mean…?"

Sighing, he leans against the doorway of the bathroom. "Once you start messing around with humans like that, you can't stop. It's like…you feed off their mortality. You become addicted to how they feel, how they taste, how…vulnerable, they are." He looks a little disgusted as he says this, but shakes it off as he looks at the linens in his hands. "It would make me an unjust god to involve myself that way. My job isn't to bring you…sexual gratification." "Is that why Seungcheol is the way he is?" You ask, and you don't miss the way Seungkwan's eyes trail the way your legs peek over the soapy water. Shifting, his eyes snap back to yours, "No, Seungcheol is the way he is because he likes attention. He needs it to function." Rolling your eyes, "He's the god of the sky, everyone practically worships him." "Everyone but you, it seems." He says, and you smile at him. 

"Am I supposed to?" "My job is to guide you, but I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do, you're a mortal. You've got free will." He clicks his tongue, before his fingers toy with the doorknob. "I'll be in my bedroom." "Get pretty while you wait for me." You wink, and he scowls. 

"You're such a brat." The door closes before you can say anything, only a laugh from your chest as you unplug the drain, watching the water slide down. You rinse off with the running water, carefully squeezing your hair of excess as you step out of the tub, gingerly wrapping the towel around yourself and tucking the corner in. 

Opening the door, you carefully walk down the hall to Seungkwan's room, hearing him rustle around before you knock. A muffled come in is heard, and you open the door to see him holding a few pins in his mouth as he drags a step stool to the center of the room. His eyes glance up at you, before he beckons you forward. You walk in, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him get situated.

"What's all this?" You peer at the materials he's laid out, seeing a pair of scissors oddly reminiscent of Wonwoo's style. 

"I can't have you working under me without proper attire. So, we're going to do some measurements, and I'll have this done by morning." "So I'm expected to be nude for the next few hours?" You scoff out a laugh, and he gives you a raised brow. 

"I have a few robes, if that'll make you feel better? It doesn't bother me either way, it's your body." "And you've never been attracted to a mortal?" You tease, causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. 

"You won't let this go, will you?" "You may be a god, but you're also a man. Forgive me for assuming you think with both heads." You say, perching on the edge of the step stool and crossing one leg over the other. The towel bares your thighs, and he shakes his head.

"Not being intimate with mortals doesn't mean I don't feel lust or desire." He rolls his eyes, and you smirk at him. 

"But you won't give into your desires because it shows you're just as human as any of us, right?" He sighs, beckoning you to stand. "On the stool, please. Careful." He holds his hand out for the towel, and you peel it off slowly before handing it to him. He drapes it over the back of his desk chair as you step onto the flat seat of the stool. 

He analyzes you carefully, walking around your nude body with his fingers tapping his lips. "Do you prefer your clothes loose?" "On the bottom, easier access if I want to execute my free will." You use air quotes, and he snorts. 

"All humans are the same, riddled with their own desire." "I'm just a woman, Seungkwan. I have needs, too." You roll your eyes as he holds a piece of linen to your hip, before his other hand trails your back to meet the two corners of fabric together. He pins it carefully, before you speak again.

"So what do you do? When you're overwhelmed with want?" You make a show of your words, jazz hands around him as he drapes fabric in certain ways for a different flow. 

He shakes his head, "Do I have to answer that?" "What are you if not an honest god, Seungkwan?" Your teasing makes his jaw clench, you notice, but you say nothing as he pins the fabric in another spot. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to drape the fabric yet another way for more dimension. A few more folds and pins later, he steps back and looks at his work. "Pretty?" He asks, turning you to face the mirror behind you, his hands on your hips as he watches your reaction change into a timid smile. 

"Yeah, pretty." "Perfect." He nods, unpinning it at the hip so it can stay together as it falls off and he drapes it across the bed carefully. "I'll sew this for you and it can be your outfit for tomorrow! I think you need sleepwear, right?" He taps his chin as he thinks, scanning the remaining fabrics. "I don't mind sleeping like this, actually. I'd rather have more day clothing." You speak as you step off the stool, and he hums in response.

"Are you sure? It can get quite cold in the bedrooms." He says, reaching for a bright yellow piece of linen. He holds it up to your chest, a quizzical look in his eyes as he gazes at you carefully. 

"You can warm me up if I get too cold, can't you?" "What is it with you and these odd little questions, threadling? Are you attracted to me?" He rolls his eyes, not expecting you to shrug your shoulders. 

"I'm human, not blind. I might not like you, but I can appreciate that you're nice to look at." You worry his eyes might get stuck in his head if he keeps rolling them, but he shakes his head as he pins the yellow linen over your shoulder. "Humans, such odd creatures." "Odd is good though." You say into the air, and he smiles as he raises your arm to pin the fabric against your ribs. 

"Odd is good, you're right. It keeps me entertained." "I'm not going to be your jester, if that's what you're alluding to." You warn, and he actually laughs, for the first time since you'd arrived. 

"Nonsense, I'd never put you in that position." "What about others?" His face is closer than it had ever been as he pins the fabric around your neck, and he lets out a hum. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

You're not satisfied with that answer, but Seungcheol made you good at everything – including luring people into your web of lust and yearning, making them a moth to your flame. Surely, Seungkwan was no different.

"But we could." You murmur, trailing your eyes down the soft curve of his jaw. Sighing, he steps back slightly and you feel his warm breath against your skin as he turns you to face the mirror once more. 

He holds the loose fabric in his fingers, pulling it taut against your torso. "We'd pin this back here. What do you think?" "I think you're avoiding my questions because you're scared of giving in to me." You say pointedly, watching his face in the reflection as he purses his lips. 

"Do you like the draping or not, so we can try something else?" "Yeah, I like it." You roll your eyes, feeling the fabric become loose once more as he lets it go, carefully moving around to unpin you. His fingers linger against your skin, before you're nude in front of the mirror once more. This goes on for a while, different linens being draped across your body in almost an expert manner. Pins are carefully put in and pulled out, and soon his bed is covered in your carefully folded options and set aside to be finished for you. "Here, I'm going to take a quick bath and then we need to eat dinner." He slides a robe over your shoulders, prompting you to slip your arms through the soft silk. 

"So seeing me like this does nothing for you?" You try again, and he just chuckles in disbelief.

"Do you want me to compliment you or something? You realize I've seen plenty of naked bodies in my lifetime, right?" He says, replacing the stool in the corner of the room as you perch on the edge of the bed. 

"Oh, I'm sure this is the norm for you. Just loads of beautiful women throwing themselves at you because they think you have something to offer them." "And yet, they never get anything from me." He nods, not seeing the way your eyes widen. 

"What?" "Exactly what I said. You're not the first human to be in this temple, and you might not be the last. Everyone needs me for one thing or another, and once they've gotten their fill, they think I can offer to fill their carnal desires. I guess they see it as a payment, but it's honestly just a bit insulting." He shrugs, and you hum in response.

"So you've never…slept with a mortal?" You ask, leaning on your hands as he rustles through his closet, conjuring a towel and returning in yet another robe. 

He shakes his head. "I never let it get that far." "But you'll do other things? You'll let them touch you?" You prod, and he shrugs, with a smile. 

"I like the game, not super into the prize. As much of a prize as a mortal can be, I guess. I know they don't really want me for me, so I just play along until they realize I won't be giving them what they want. At least, not fully." "What does that mean, though?" You call as he begins to take his walk down to the bathroom, and he sighs loudly. 

"Why does it matter, angel?"

Your lip twitches at the pet name. You choose not to respond, instead letting the conversation seep into your mind and hopping off the bed, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

Might as well make myself useful, you think.

It doesn't take long to prepare a light dinner. Wine, oiled bread and carefully speared fruit. You're forcing a skewer through lamb chunks when you hear him wander into the kitchen, the top notes of his minty soap slightly overwhelming.

You are just a woman, after all.

"Lamb?" He asks, and you can feel the heat of his body behind you. 

You hold up the skewer, nodding, "I figured it'd be quick and easy. I'd like to get to bed early, you said tomorrow would be my demise." "You're dramatic, that is not what I said." He snorts, moving away from you to get the fire started. The two of you work in unison to get dinner on the flame, opting to sit on the same side of the table and sip your wine as you stare at the fire.

"Do you ever feel lonely?" You ask, resting your wine in the dip of your lap. He shakes his head.

"No. I've heard a lot about that, though. Humans feel like they need someone, or something, to fill a void. I think it's just a feeling of emptiness because they've yet to love themselves and choose to fill the hole with material things, or attempt to patch it with someone else."

He sips his wine as you gawk at him, a scoff from your throat.

"That's not at all what that means, Seungkwan."

His head lolls to the side, a smile on his lips. "Isn't it, though? What do you take it to mean?" Okay, maybe he's right. Maybe.

"It means that you…the human emotion is very complex, you know? It means wanting more, it means being satisfied with yourself but wanting companionship. It means–" "It means humans are greedy." He interrupts, and you almost miss the way he inches a little closer. "It means all you do is take, and take, and take. Humans are slaves to the desires they feel, you don't really need anyone to be happy or fulfilled. It's all a human concept."

Your nose scrunches as you grimace, and he sighs, sliding his cup onto the table. "Humans act like loneliness is…for example, you see the stars." He gestures to the window above the counter, the sky now clear and the moonlight floods into the kitchen.

"Humans want to say that loneliness is the stars in the sky looking wrong. Or, they make up things like speaking to the moon and hoping their lover is somewhere else, looking at that very same moon and doing the same. Humans are experts in yearning, because of that free will you've been granted." He states, and you slide closer to him, your thigh bumping his.

"So you've never yearned for anyone?" You ask, looking slightly down at him as he leans back onto the table. 

He shakes his head, "I've never had anyone be worth enough to pine after. I'm just not the kind of god that needs that fulfillment, like Seungcheol or Wonwoo." "So you don't think any mortal and god love stories could be successful? Or any love stories, in general? Have you got a glacier for a heart?" 

He hums, "I do think it's possible, to love and to be loved. However, let's take Mingyu and Tzuyu, for example. Mingyu fell in love with her after striking himself with one of his own arrows. They've been inseparable since, but that doesn't mean they have a beautiful love story. It started as an honest mistake, and now they've been together for as long as I can remember." "Don't you remember how much Tzuyu fought for him after she betrayed him? How she faced his mother, who wanted her dead, to win him back? You don't think she loves him after all she suffered to earn him, and then Mingyu taking her to Seungcheol to make her into a goddess, moved by her love and dedication for him? You don't think that's far more than just a mistake?" "What, you believe in fate?" He asks lazily, and you scoff. "Yes! I do! I believe they were destined to be together!" You argue, and he smiles. 

"You would believe that, yeah. After all, Tzuyu was a mortal. Maybe you want the same for yourself." Your brows furrow, and you knock his shoulder gently. "I would never want to become a goddess, I'd rather die than fall in love with some god who thinks he's too good for me." "Oh, but isn't that what Mingyu did? Fall in love with a mortal despite being better than her, and bringing her to his world to have her forever?" He raises a brow, and you scowl. 

"Mingyu doesn't think that he's better than Tzuyu, otherwise he would have never asked Seungcheol to turn her into a goddess." Seungkwan sits up, his face now mere inches from yours as he speaks. "She betrayed his trust, after he said he could never see his face. Don't you know why that is?" "Have you ever thought that maybe it was to protect her?!" You tongue your cheek in annoyance, the acknowledgement of knowing maybe you're subtly wrong appearing on your face. He smiles, returning to his original position before sighing.

"You're somewhat right, I guess. But, I get it. I can see why that's a beautiful love story to you, full of forgiveness and dedication for a lover. Even if it did start off wrong, some of the most amazing stories never have very clean beginnings." He nods, before standing to retrieve the now cooked skewers from the fire.

You eat silently, the two of you still staring at the fire as you chew. Seungkwan swipes his napkin across your lip a few times, and you find yourself missing the touch as you clean up. He finishes off his wine, and yours once you offer it, and diligently washes both cups as the cicadas chirp outside the window.

Following behind him as he leads the way, you're hesitant to walk past him to your own bedroom. You'd lied about the bed, it was fine. In fact, you were sure it was better than Seungkwan's. "Something on your mind, angel?" He asks as you stop a few feet from your door, and you can almost hear the smug smirk on his face. You tap your foot, wondering if you should admit to the silly little fear of yours. "Closed mouths don't get fed." He calls again, and you huff, turning on your heel and walking to stand in front of him. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" You mutter, hearing his tongue click and echo around the temple. 

"Why? And it's not that my bed is better than yours, I know that." You scowl, "I don't like sleeping alone. I don't like the dark."

His amused look is hidden by his hand over his mouth, a pout on your own as you cross your arms. "You're such a human." "You're being mean." Mumbling, you push past him and tug the covers off his bed. He watches you silently, your robe sliding off your body and pooling at your feet before you slide into the warm duvet. He bites back a laugh, before stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind him. Walking up to the bed, he picks the robe up and hangs it on the bedpost, before rounding the frame and copying your movements on the opposite side. Your eyes are open, and you watch as he slips in next to you.

"Stay on your side. You can obey that, right?" He says into the air, facing away from you as he pulls the cover over his waist. Your eyes trail his back, shoulders slightly tensed as he gets comfortable. You want to reach out and touch him, but choose to clench your hands under your pillow, before sighing and turning the other way.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan."

"Goodnight, angel."

FOUR.

Somehow, Seungkwan was on the other side of the bed.

You were nestled into his naked torso, your lips pouted against his neck. Your hair was a mess around you, your leg flung over his waist as you slept soundly. He rolls his eyes, wondering how to get out of the position without waking you. It's barely dawn, he likes some time to himself before dealing with the mortals that are honestly the bane of his existence.

He gently wraps his fingers around your knee, moving you off his body with precision. He'd never let any of the other mortals sleep in his bed, much less with him, but he knows it's the guilt from killing you off years ago. Unfortunately, Seungkwan is far too aware of his wrongs. In the past, he'd gotten scolded by several of his peers due to his harsh nature. He and Vernon got drunk over an aged wine a few years after your disappearance and Seungkwan admitted he'd jumped the gun on punishment.

What he didn't know was that Vernon spoke to Seungcheol about it, who then spoke to Jeonghan about it. That's how they came up with sending you back to Seungkwan for your last chance at life, maybe you could right your wrongs with each other. You both struggle with pride and yearn to be perfect, never wanting to admit when you're wrong.

But you were human, you knew you couldn't be perfect. You had a softer heart, not having seen the things Seungkwan had seen or lived the life he'd known. Seungkwan had built his walls up nice and high, and rarely let anyone in to take a peek. You in his bed was something he'd never allow if you were just anyone.

He knows it's also his attraction for you coming to the surface. It didn't take a genius to realize that it was this he'd been looking for in every lover he'd ever tried to have – your witty remarks, your obvious disinterest in him or his skills as a god. You weren't looking at him as some being worth worshiping, but someone who needed to be loved, to be held together and forgiven – despite resenting him.

He knows you can't possibly know how much his past decisions weigh on him, but it is scary to think that you can sense something about him. You know something, something that makes him feel uneasy, and it's what's inside. You know his pain, his truth, his heart.

Sighing, he softly rolls you onto your back, covering your bare frame with the duvet. It's only half true, what he said about your body – he's amazed at every curve and dimple, he wants to run his hands all over you until the end of time. He likes the way your hips swing as you walk, the bounce in your step and how soft your cheeks are. How soft you are.

What kind of god is he if he gives into his desires? If he sinks his teeth into you like a cat catching a mouse, if he lets you teeter him around like a puppet for just a taste of you? What kind of god is he if he lusts after you when he knows getting involved with mortals won't end well for him, especially when he knows the moment you sink your claws into him, he'd be a goner? Not much of a god then, is he? "Don't go." You murmur, eyes still closed and brows scrunched as you touch his wrist. He jolts slightly, but moves to pull away anyway. "I have to. I need to make your clothes." He whispers back, the sun beginning to peek in through the open window. 

Pouting, you pull him closer. "Just a little longer." "The sky's awake, angel. I have to be up." He works your fingers off his wrist, splaying your hand across his pillow. "I'm still in the room, I'm not going anywhere." This seems to be enough for you, as he grabs the robe you wore the night before and shrugs it on. He wipes at his eyes carefully, stretching before he slides off the bed. He tucks the corner of the duvet under the pillow, watching your fingers grasp at the pillowcase.

He moves around quietly, gathering the linens he'd pinned for you the night before. He sits at his desk, opening his drawer to get his glasses out and prepares needle and thread. Glancing up, he sees you pouting still, burying your face into his pillow with a sigh – and feels a twinge in his chest.

Zeroing back in, he quietly sews the linen as the sun rises slowly. You toss and turn, frustrated sounds coming from the direction of his bed enticing him to look over – but he doesn't. It's not until he accidentally pricks his finger with a pin that he notices you've gotten up and are settling on the floor next to his chair. 

"What are you doing, threadling?" He asks, almost as if he doesn't really care what you're doing. 

"Can't sleep." You mutter, reaching your fingers out to touch his ankle as you lay down, wrapping yourself like a burrito in the blanket. He peers down at you, seeing the way your fingers ghost over his skin when he sighs, pushing his chair back carefully.

"Alright, come on. Get up." 

You groan up at him, feeling him move away from your fingertips as you sit up. "What?" He doesn't respond, choosing to walk away from you and sink back into the bed. He huffs a bit, trying to hide the giddy feeling in his stomach as he sees you slowly approach. "Quickly, before I change my mind." You climb onto the bed at that, abandoning the blanket on the floor as you lay next to him, your arm loosely wrapping around his torso as he pulls the duvet over you. "Don't lay on the floor again, okay? Just ask me to come back."

"I did, you left me anyway." You murmur, a sad look etched on your brows before you sigh into his robe. He stops himself from comforting you, his fingers aching to run through your wild hair and biting back his apology. He sits silently, letting you drift back asleep holding his hip.

He doesn't like wasting the day. He knows he should pry himself away, and pull you out of bed too. He just can't bring himself to disturb your peace that way.

He gives in, his fingers gently stroking your hairline, moving stray hairs off your face. You lean into the warmth of his hand as he moves the hair off your neck, thumbing the shell of your ear carefully before clearing his throat.

"We've got a busy day, Y/N. We need to get up."

His fingers graze your neck softly, before his thumb caresses your jaw. You sigh into the air as you open your eyes, looking up at him. "It's so early." "Early bird gets the worm. You've yet to have breakfast and get dressed. Come on." He's speaking softly, his thumb now tracing circles into your soft cheeks. He can't help it, pinching the fat gently before moving away. Thankfully, you don't question his actions, just sluggishly throw the duvet off your body. He holds up the skirt from before, the ruby red material glittering in the light. "This one, yes? And the pink top? Or the white one?" "What is this, dress-up?" You yawn, and Seungkwan frowns. "Be nice, I made this for you." "Sorry, oh wisest one. Dress me like a doll." You stand and stretch your arms up, and he rolls his eyes as he carefully wraps the skirt around you, feeling your hands on his shoulders as he pins it in place. 

"Maybe I'll add a little drawstring so it's more secure, hm?" He's speaking to himself, but you nod anyway. "Arms up." He says, before tugging the soft white shirt over your head, carefully slipping your arms through. "There we go. What do you think? Pretty?" He turns you to face the mirror once more, hands on your hips as you sleepily look at yourself. You nod in silence, and he cards his fingers through your hair gently, pulling it back and pulling a piece of white ribbon out of his pocket. He ties the hair back carefully, the ribbon looped into a bow. "So it won't get in the way. Oh, and I'll get my leathersmith started on some shoes for you sometime this week. You'll just be indoors today, so don't worry about getting hurt."

You're peering at him through the mirror, your hands folded in front of you as you speak. "Why do you ask if I think the outfit is pretty?" He raises a brow, "Why the question?" "You asked if I think I look pretty. Why does it matter? It's just us." You shrug, the flowing material of the skirt flowing smoothly as you turn to face him. "And it's not like you'd tell a mortal she's pretty, would you?" Seungkwan can feel that same guttural guilt he felt earlier slowly begin to slip away. He couldn't figure you out – you could be so sweet, so flirty and pouty, and then you could be this. Defiant, bratty, argumentative.

"Can't I want to know if you feel good in what I'm making for you? Would you rather I make you wear a sack? Or walk around nude for anyone to see you?" He scoffs, seeing you smile inwardly. "Does anyone involve you?" He doesn't respond, shaking his head as he sinks into his closet.

Yeah. Anyone involves him, and probably just him.

The morning was messy.

You and Seungkwan bickered over breakfast, ending with the entire kitchen being covered in flour, spilled milk all over the floor and broken eggs across the counter. He'd pulled a recipe from his collection and said that since this was day one of you officially working under him, you'd have to learn how to cook, clean, tend to the garden, amongst other things. You didn't think a dozen biscuits would make you snap.

He'd watched you carefully the entire time, correcting you every time you were wrong with an almost hawk-like precision. It began to irritate you, so you started to make snide remarks. Something about him looking down on you, something about him not trusting you to make a stupid recipe. He'd given you a hard look and said that measuring was important, prying the wrong measuring spoon out of your hand. It took a bit more of Seungkwan saying that's wrong, wrong measurement…for you to throw an egg at him. You missed just barely, with Seungkwan grimacing as the egg splattered and slid down the wall. You mixed angrily as he watched the egg pool on the floor, before his eyes took in the mess you'd made all over the kitchen – spilling milk from him telling you that you poured too much, flour dusted all over the floor from him telling you to let the dough rest before you molded it.

It resulted in Seungkwan leaving the kitchen to collect himself, before returning to seeing you watching the dough intensely. Your impatience would be the bane of his existence.

Neither of you spoke after the portioned dough went into the oven. Jaws tense, shoulders rigid as you moved around each other to clean up. Or rather, as you cleaned up and he sliced fruit for breakfast.

It seemed that neither of you really wanted to do anything else, either, as you watched Seungkwan tinker around the garden alone. He'd said nothing about needing space, but you figured it was probably what was best – so you dragged the stepstool to his bedroom window and watched as he carefully picked flowers from the garden, your eyes drawn to the decorative patches of daisies. You felt a bit like a prisoner. Nobody had told you whether or not you were allowed to leave, or go beyond the temple. You were sure Seungkwan wouldn't force you to stay here, after all, he'd reminded you quite a bit of your free will. Free will that you can't really act on, because then you'd be invading him. It felt almost like a betrayal, the way your body responded to seeing him again. Like he'd grown more interesting to your brain, something sunken in the back of his gaze that said maybe he liked seeing you, too. It was annoying, how you felt this overwhelming need to be around him, even if you knew you just wanted to bicker and bother and nag him. You wanted him to be sorry, you wanted him to show you he was sorry for what happened between you all those years ago.

Unfortunately, you also know well enough to understand why he did it. Pride, the easiest sin of all, had marked you as its prey. And it's fine. You're fine, you think, because if Seungkwan can sin so can you.

Sighing to yourself, you've seen that the god has vanished from the garden. Your eyes gaze upon the vast garden, searching for him when you hear his light footsteps echoing in the temple. You refuse to look back, hearing him enter the bedroom as you cast your eyes to the windowsill. A butterfly rests carefully, when you hear him clear his throat.

"I'll be going into town. Don't expect me home before nightfall."

You turn quickly, your eyes wide. "Can I go, too? I don't want to be locked away here like some damsel in distress." He shakes his head, "Not tonight. I'm just meeting a friend. You can go wherever you please, but I bought something for you from an old student of mine. I'd like you to be here to receive it." 

He's rolling his sleeves up, and you see now the basket of flowers he'd been gathering placed gingerly on the vanity. "Are the flowers for her?" "Her?" He echoes, and you narrow your eyes. "It's a her, right? The friend you're meeting?"

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, angel." He taunts, before swiping his hair back carefully. "Again, I'll be back before nightfall. Roam the gardens, meet the few neighbors we have, do as you please. Make sure you eat dinner." In a way, you feel like a neglected housewife.

"You're leaving now?" You don't mean to sound so sad, so small. So…needy.

He looks at you over his shoulder, a raised brow. "You don't want me to?"

You don't say anything, flitting your eyes to the flowers on the vanity. He sighs, walking towards you and reaching for the window shutters. He pulls them closed, "Looks like rain, anyway." "No, go. You can go, don't stay because of me." You rush out, standing quickly. He glances at you carefully, eyes narrowed. "It's Mingyu and Tzuyu, they'll understand." "Please, go. It'll do me some good to be alone with my thoughts for a while." You nearly clasp your hands together in prayer, as if begging him to leave. He's hesitant, eyes scanning your features quickly before nodding. "I'll be home soon, okay?" You nod as he inches back towards the doors, and you pull the shutters back open, letting the setting sunlight back in. He takes the basket of flowers gingerly and you retake your seat on the stool quietly, before calling out to him.

"See you later."

Seungkwan can barely hold himself up as he nears the temple. Mingyu and Tzuyu offered to drop him off after their dinner together, but he refused – insisting he needed some time to think.

Tzuyu had asked about his latest pupil – upon hearing that it was you, she nearly choked on her wine. He simply focused on his mushroom soup, insisting he didn't really care.

Mingyu hadn't bought it, and casually dropped you into conversation every chance he got. He waxed poetic about the way a mortal loves, the way they feel, the way they taste. Everything Seungkwan had been told was like a drug – and something he couldn't bring himself to indulge in any more than he already had – despite it not ever doing much for him. He had even told you so – mortal and god relationships weren't for the faint of heart, for eventually, it'd be the god left standing alone.

So, no. He wouldn't indulge – even if the god of love himself was encouraging it. 

Mingyu and Tzuyu were a special case. It wasn't everyday Seungcheol had something pull at his heartstrings, such as the love between the couple had. A love that proved imperfection could be overlooked, that Mingyu's heart sang for Tzuyu as the birds did every morning.

Seungkwan just blinked and drank his wine, keeping quiet as the trio eventually scoured the market.

He had seen a few things he thought you'd like – many a ball of yarn, skirts that wouldn't fall lower than your mid-thigh woven from dyed silk and sparkled with glued rhinestones. But one thing caught his eye most – a gold necklace with a small emerald pendant. Representing growth and renewal, the emerald mocked him. Representing you returning to the Overworld to change, and choosing to change for the better. He bought it, and shoved it in his pocket as Mingyu and Tzuyu perused new linens for their home.

Seungkwan understood that he could desire you. He could, and that it was perfectly okay to get involved with you. It was perfectly okay to explore your body, to become one with you, to let you into his heart and let you make yourself at home in it. His fear wasn't in the commitment or the fact that it was you, someone he'd hurt so long ago – but the fact that your suspicions of his imperfection would ring with truth. He knew he wasn't perfect, he knew that he had his flaws – but what kind of a god was he to admit that to a mortal? At this point, he considers admitting it to himself to be progress.

Sighing, he grabs the pillar of the temple to steady himself. He'd drunk a bit too much to stand up straight, but he was coherent enough to hear you toss and turn as he entered the sacred home. Your groan was evident, as was the thwip of his bedsheets as he quietly walked down the hall.

He tugs his shirt over his head before opening the door softly, watching as you shoot up in bed with the duvet covering your chest. 

"You're home." You breathe out, and he just nods silently, stumbling into the closet and fumbling around as he peels his clothes off. He hears the clatter of the necklace he bought on the marble tile, before looking down and picking it up. He holds it up to the moonlight, before grabbing his robe and shrugging it on, slipping the jewelry into his pocket. 

He doesn't acknowledge you as he walks to the bathroom, beelining for his toothbrush. He could bathe in the morning – he just wants to lie down next to you and breathe you in.

"How was it?" You call as he trudged back, his hands shoved in his pockets as he slightly swayed from side to side. Shrugging, "Ate. Talked to Mingyu and Tzuyu. Got a little drunk, I'm definitely going to feel it in the morning. Sorry." You smile at him, shaking your head before pulling the duvet back as he reaches the side of the bed. You're sitting with your knees to your chest, and he catches a glimpse of the skirt you were wearing earlier hung across the back of his desk chair. "Do you ever wear clothes to bed?" "Just when you make me." You shrug, and he shakes his head, biting back a smile. "I got you something." You quickly tuck your legs under yourself as you sit up, the duvet falling off your body and the moonlight illuminating your skin. He tears his eyes away, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding up the necklace. Your hand floats to your chest, having abandoned your own necklace in the bathroom the day you arrived at the temple. It felt too heavy, then. Too synonymous with your first life.

"It represents growth. You're making a choice to grow as a person, and make better decisions. No matter the reason behind it, you're still attempting to make amends and I think that deserves a small reward." Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, his fingers carefully unclasping it and beckoning you closer. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the bed, wary of him as your knees touch his thighs. "I don't bite, you know. Not unless you want me to."

"Haha, very funny." You roll your eyes, and he raises an eyebrow before his hands ghost over your skin. His fingers carefully hold your hair out of the way as he clasps the necklace around your neck, the pendant sitting low on your chest. He fixes it, twisting it so the gem faces out. "I expect you to treasure this." You blink up at him, before wrapping your arms around him and enveloping him in a soft embrace. "Thank you." You whisper, and he feels himself tense up as you squeeze gently. His hands ghost over your back, before slightly shaky fingers touch the warmth of your skin.

"You're welcome, angel. Did you eat dinner like I said?" He asks, not having the courage to pull away from you, not when your warmth feels so…something. You nod against his chest, your cheek pressed against his skin making him feel a little hot.

"It wasn't much, I didn't like being by myself."

"I'm here now, angel. I'll take you with me next time, I promise." He reassures, feeling his stomach feel with giddiness at the thought of spending time with you around his friends. Okay, that involves admitting Mingyu was right – but he doesn't need to touch base on that just yet.

"Oh, your friend dropped by." You make no move to get out of his grasp, his fingers now subconsciously tracing circles into your lower back. "Mmh? Did you like your gift?" He'd asked Chan to source a loom for you. He knew it was something you liked, and probably something that could fill any free time that he managed to have. He knew it'd remind you of your father, too, and he wanted something to give you a sense of belonging.

"I love it. Thank you." You murmur, and he feels your lips press lightly into his chest. Warmth blooms in his cheeks as he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your body and now resting on your shoulders. "We'll be in the garden tomorrow, so we should get some rest." You nod, laying back onto the bed, inching over to your side (that wasn't really your side, just 'yours' because you refused to sleep in your room.) He hung his robe on the bedpost, and slid under the covers, facing away from you and urging the heat in his body to go away. HIs mind doesn't get to wander much further, though, as your sigh is the last thing he hears before he hears before he feels his eyes heavy with sleep.

He could think about it tomorrow.

FIVE.

Okay. This is normal. This happens to everyone. This happens to everyone.

…He's not everyone.

He's trying to convince himself that your ass pressed against him isn't affecting him in any way, shape or form. He's trying to think of the most disgusting things to make his hardening cock go down so he doesn't wake you so lewdly. He can't even fucking move away from you, because somehow, throughout the night – you managed to get him to spoon you, and now your fingers are interlocked with his over the top of his hand.

He's literally trapped between a rock (hard boner) and a hard place (again…his boner.) He tries not to let his internal panic show as he controls his breathing, carefully trying to pull himself out of your grasp. He feels your grip tighten around his hand, and peers over to see your brows furrowed and lip jutted out in a pout.

"Stay." You murmur, obviously completely oblivious to his predicament.

"I have to get up, angel." He wiggles his fingers under yours, making you sigh discontentedly. "You said you'd stay if I asked." He did. He did say that.

"I know, angel, I know. I'll come back, I promise." He murmurs, and he sees you peel open one of your eyes and gently twist your head to look at him. Your eye scans his face, before you close it and turn back.

"If you want me to help you, I can. It doesn't have to mean anything." He chokes slightly, seeing you snuggle your face further into your pillow.

He wants to. He really, really wants you to touch him, he wants to feel you all over him. He wants to hold you close and feel everything you have to give him, taking everything you want to give him.

He feels your thumb gently stroking his knuckles, the cool metal of your ring startling before you speak softly. "It's just me. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to, or if you do. It's normal." Your reassurance isn't something he expected nor knew he needed. He clears his throat, before the warmth of your hand has moved. You're turning to face him, peering up at him with sleepy eyes. You're so beautiful.

He doesn't realize he's staring at you until he feels your nails gently raking up and down his torso. Your eyes are drinking him in carefully, before they ultimately close again and you nuzzle your nose into his neck without a word. Your fingertips graze the tip of his cock, making his hips jerk involuntarily as a whine rips through him. He hasn't been touched by anyone that isn't himself in years.

And now, it's you. Your hands, your body, you.

"Can I make you feel good? Please?" You press soft kisses into his neck, nipping lightly at his skin. He nods quickly, a muffled yes slipping past his lips as he covers his mouth with his hand. You push him onto his back gently, trailing kisses down his neck and chest as you take his weeping cock in your soft hand. You hold it as your teeth graze at any inch of skin you can reach, before looking up at him.

"I can't kiss you, right?" He can feel his heart ache at the slight…sadness? in your tone, and the way it shows in your eyes as he shakes his head no. "I…" "You what? You're sorry?" You roll your eyes, squeezing his length gently. "Don't be, gorgeous." He doesn't get a chance to respond before your tongue is on him, running carefully along the underside of his cock. He covers his mouth with his hand, a shudder running through his body as you spit in your hand, stroking him slowly and pressing kisses all over his stomach. His free hand grips the duvet, before you slot your fingers in his.

You don't look at him as you take him in your mouth, your tongue licking gently as he groans softly. His fingers squeeze around yours, and you hum to yourself as you sink further down his length, gagging around his tip as his hips buck. A whimper from his throat tears through the air as you stroke what doesn't fit, hollowing your cheeks slightly.

He's holding back noises, the room filling with the wet sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Soft huffs of yeah, murmurs of holy f-fuck only spur you on further, feeling his hand untangle from yours to card through your hair and move your head up and down at his leisure. His grip tightens as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

"Oh my…" He whines, and you tease your tongue down the thick vein. "Oh my…what? Oh my God?"

He scoffs at you, but his words fade on his tongue as you sink down on him again. You gag around him, pulling a throaty moan from his bitten lips as he cants into your mouth. "S-Sorry, I can st–" You groan around him, feeling his tip twitch as it touches the back of your throat again. He whimpers, his release spilling into your mouth. It's a little salty as it coats your tongue, but you slide him out with a pop. Your tongue diligently cleans the mess, overstimulating him as he squirms, pushing your head back.

You trail soft kisses up his torso, nipping at his chest before moving up his neck. You peer down at him, eyes locked with his as he blinks up at you. "All better, right?" You say gently, and feel your chest swell with pride, seeing his cheeks tinge pink as he looks away.

Shrugging, you brush his hair out of his eyes, kissing his cheeks lightly. You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as he scrunches it. Lowering your head, your teeth tug at his earlobe before you speak softly.

"Always an angel, never a god." You murmur, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you slink off the bed. You stand up straight, stretching your arms over your head with a soft groan.

You don't see his humiliated expression, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you make your way out of the bedroom. You don't see the way he covers himself with the blanket as you turn into the bathroom, or the way he hides his face in his hands and angrily wipes at his eyes.

Always an angel, never a god.

The day went by quietly.

You bathed and made breakfast, and stayed…mostly true to your word. You didn't bring up anything that happened that morning, and Seungkwan didn't say anything about your condescending comment afterwards. He chose to spend his day in the garden, even as the rain started falling.

You watched from the doorway, holding the cloth he'd given you right after breakfast. He'd instructed you to wash the windows around the temple, and you'd done so without a fight. A part of you felt that today wasn't a day to mess with him, but you also figured that what you'd said this morning was enough to knock him off the pedestal he'd put himself on.

You felt a little guilty, but was it not the truth?

What kind of a god is he to fall prey to your temptation? What kind of a god is he to take from you what he's not willing to give, to your knowledge? What kind of god is he, to judge you for being lustful, to judge you for yearning for another's touch, when yours made him come undone?

Not a very good one, that's what. Right?

You watched him as the rain fell, the way his brows furrowed as he continued picking flowers and wrapping herbs with twine. He walked around like the rain did nothing, and you sighed inwardly. You turned on your heel, abandoning the bucket of soapy water and the cloth in lieu of entering the kitchen, rooting around for his kettle. You'd grabbed a towel earlier and draped it over the back of the dining chairs, hoping he'd come in eventually.

He'd want something warm, you think.

You busy yourself with making a warm tea, hearing Seungkwan groan as he slips his wet clothing off at the entrance. You hear the wet plop of the clothing dropping on the floor, and you hear his teeth chatter a bit as you peek your head around the corner.

His chest was blooming with evidence of your teeth on him from earlier. You feel your chest fill with heat as you notice the prominent trail of love bites down to his waist. Your eyes widen as you grab the towel, silently trekking the expanse between you and holding it out to him. He gives you a frown.

"Take it, you'll get sick." You grimace, and he ignores you as he kicks off his shoes, his fingers toying with the buckle of his belt. He pulls it through the loops, tossing it to the side when you huff, shoving the towel into his chest. "You're going to get sick!" "I don't need your help, Y/N." He shoves it back, and you scowl, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"You didn't mind my help this morning. Take the fucking towel." His eyes narrow as he chooses to turn away, shoving his pants down his legs and kicking the soaked material out of his way. "I didn't need it then." "You're such a fucking brat, Seungkwan." You throw the towel on the ground as he pushes past you, heading towards the bathroom. You storm back into the kitchen, your brain telling you to dump out the tea.

Unfortunately, you don't quite listen to your brain very often. You pour the tea into a cup, hearing the rain slow down. Looking out the kitchen window, you see it stop entirely. You start to think the rain is symbolic of every time you have a spat with Seungkwan, and you wouldn't put it past Seungcheol to try and Pavlov that idea into your brain.

Grimacing, you stir in a spoonful of honey. The only water you hear now is that of the running faucet in the bathroom, and you felt your chest heavy as you think of Seungkwan.

How his skin felt under your bruised fingers. The way he tasted. Something soft, balanced. How he reacted and how he forced himself to hold back, how his fingers felt as they squeezed your hand for dear life.

You shake your head, biting down hard on your cheek to ground yourself. This was ridiculous. Today was only the fourth day of him…'mentoring' you. It seems that the two of you had forgotten that that was why you were sent here – to 'develop' your skills, to 'embrace' your mortality, to 'find yourself.'

Quite the contrary – it felt an awful lot like you were losing yourself in this. In him, the comfort of his bed, the warmth of his touch and attention. You weren't complaining – truthfully, it'd been a long time since you felt desired, or any sort of desire bubbling within you. There was that one time with Wonwoo six years ago, and that oddball moment with Jeonghan right after your fourth visit to the Underworld. 

This…felt different.

You felt guilty, you felt like you weren't putting your best foot forward. With Jeonghan and Wonwoo, it was something that happened in the heat of the moment. Something that was for the instantaneous satiation of both parties, and you were never one to shy away from a night of fun with anyone – including mortals. You'd had your fair share in just your first life, why would you stop now? Seungkwan…felt like something just out of your reach, as much as you hated to admit it. He felt like something you had to work towards, someone you had to prove yourself to. He held himself in a high regard, with standards that you weren't so sure you met.

But he looked at you with such an intense mix of disdain…and desire. Something that screamed he didn't want to look at you as anything more than yet another pupil, but he couldn't help his eyes from wandering. He could lie to you all he wanted, but you feel different.

Sighing, you leave the tea on the table, clasping your hands behind your back. You walk silently out of the kitchen and down the hallway, passing the bathroom just as Seungkwan opens the door. He gives you a quizzical look but you continue on anyway, making your way to your bedroom.

The place is barren aside from the bed, the lamp, a pair of nightstands and the loom you were given. The floor is colder here than the rest of the temple, and you don't know if that's on purpose or not. You flop onto the bed with a grunt, your head hitting the pillows and you stare at the ceiling.

What is the point of you being here, anyway? You and Seungkwan hardly speak. He's not teaching you anything you don't already know – even if baking a dozen biscuits isn't your strong suit, you can make a decent batch. You know how to pick pretty flowers, you know how to make tea, you can make clothes and you can certainly weave a damn good tapestry.

Why can't you just keep doing that? Why can't you just keep your word to Seungcheol and Jeonghan and stay out of Seungkwan's way? "It's because we don't trust you." You jolt out of the bed, your head just barely missing the edge of the nightstand as you fall off. You feel your shoulder hit the corner of an open drawer, drawing a loud fuck! from your lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" You groan from the floor, and Jeonghan just chuckles as he hops through the open window, rounding the bed to kneel beside you. You sit up, rubbing furiously at your shoulder in attempts to soothe the shooting pain. "A little bird told me you were being a bad girl, Y/N." "Oh fuck off, I was not!" Whining, you look at the already bruising skin under your shirt. You scoff, peering up at Jeonghan, who smiles down at you. "So what do you call sleeping with the enemy?" "I did not sleep with him! I merely performed a sexual act for him. God forbid I have a little fun." You scowl, and Jeonghan pinches your cheek gently. "Seungcheol is not happy about it, darling. You know the rules." "The rules were I don't challenge anyone. You never said I couldn't go down on the person holding me hostage." You say pointedly, making Jeonghan snort out a laugh. "I mean, I don't care. I get it, and I think I know you better than anyone when I say you're not interested in Seungkwan for what he can offer you, but what you can discover about him…with him." You slump against the wall, a pout on your lips when you hear a knock on the door. Jeonghan's eyes grow wide as Seungkwan edges the door open, worming his arm through and holding a plate out to you.

"Dinner." "You eat alone here?" He asks, and Seungkwan's head pokes through the crack with eyes so wide, you feared they'd pop out. "Jeonghan? What are you doing here?"

"Just reconnecting with my little troublemaker." He shrugs, pinching your cheek as you frown, shoving his hand away. Seungkwan's eyes show his conflicted feelings, and he simply steps in and slides the plate on the nightstand. "Bring the plate back to the kitchen before sundown." He spins on his heel, and leaves. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Jeonghan gives you a knowing look. You give him a sheepish smile in return, but neither of you make a move for the light dinner on the nightstand.

"You eat alone?" "No. I think…ugh." You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into them as you groan. "I fucked up, Jeonghan." "Oh, good! The plan is working!" He cheers, before reaching for the plate on the nightstand. "Here, let's split this lovely dinner. I'm a long way from home, you know." You just groan again, and Jeonghan clicks his tongue at you. "That's the whole point of this, darling. You get knocked down a few pegs, and Seungkwan gets loosened up. Granted, neither Cheollie nor I figured you'd go this route but, whatever works." "Cheollie?" You snort, and Jeonghan shrugs. "That's my best friend, and he pays for all my fish. I can call him whatever I want." You shake your head as Jeonghan offers you a piece of bread, and you bite into it as you lean your head back against the wall. "He hates me." You mutter around the bread, and Jeonghan laughs.

"I'd argue the opposite, my dear. I think that the two of you find each other very intriguing. It's almost like two cats sizing each other up before deciding if the other is a threat. In this case, you're a small cat with a huge ego and he's a big cat with…well, a multitude of problems. You are human enough that you know how to relax, but also annoying enough to figure out what buttons to press to rile him up enough to break." "I don't think calling me annoying is helping your case here, Jeonghan." You smack his thigh, and he laughs gently. "I just think the two of you balance each other well. You're so painfully human, and so open about your flaws. Seungkwan has a hard time admitting aloud that he isn't perfect, because this lavish life we live…it weighs on him. Sometimes, I wonder if Cheollie did the right thing." "What do you mean?" You ask, taking a piece of sliced peach off the plate and peeling the skin off. Jeonghan shrugs, and speaks around a chunk of fig.

"Seungkwan is very loved, don't get me wrong. However, Seungkwan is quite literally Seungcheol's biggest headache. He came about after Cheol had yet another affair with someone aside from his ex-wife. Seungkwan cannot fathom being anything like Seungcheol in regards to his adulterous behavior and incessant need for attention, so he isolates his heart." Jeonghan turns to you, eyeing the furrow in your brow as you chew. "You bring it out of him, you know? The ability to feel more than he allows himself to. The range of emotions is much broader with you around, and we feel like it will be good for him." "You know he said he won't kiss me?" You mumble, and Joenghan leans his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I know, darling. It's addicting, the kiss of a mortal. You should know better, your pretty lips are what gets you in trouble." You scoff, but sigh.

"How does he know? Has he…kissed other mortals?" You don't know you're pouting until you feel Jeonghan's thumb on your lip. "Plenty. I think…maybe there is something different about you to him. Maybe it's the guilt." "Or he's in love with me." You roll your eyes, the phrase feeling foreign on your tongue. You'd never been in love before, and to be honest, you didn't care to be. Jeonghan hums next to you, before looking up. "Maybe." There is a moment of silence before you choke out a laugh. "Yeah, right. The guy hates my guts." "He doesn't hate you, darling. He just doesn't understand you, but that's why you're here." Jeonghan shrugs, before pressing a kiss to your temple. "Be a good girl, okay? He's trying his best, just like you are." "I'll try my best, Jeonghan." You sigh, watching as the god stands, and stretches before he steps in front of the window. "And, Y/N?" "Yes, Jeonghan?" Jeonghan smiles, his maroon eyes flashing with a hint of mirth as he swings his legs over the windowsill. "Don't fall too fast." You scoff as he disappears, and look down to pick at the last piece of fruit on the plate. Half a fig.

Sighing, you pick it up and stand, walking towards the door and opening it. You slip into the hall quietly, noting the moonlight lighting the temple nicely. Walking into the kitchen, you see Seungkwan nursing a glass of wine as he sits in front of the oven.

There's yet another dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt baking before you. The two of you had practically inhaled the first loaf, sneaking bites throughout the last two days. He looks up as he hears you step in, lips pursed before turning back.

You sigh inwardly, shoveling the last fig you picked at into your mouth before leaving the plate in the sink. He says nothing as you slide into the seat next to him, but offers his glass. You take it silently, keeping your gaze forward.

"You don't like skin on peaches?" He asks quietly, and you press your lips into a thin line. "No. My dad always peeled them for me." "Dads…" He nods, and you glance at him. "Yeah. You're…Seungcheol's favorite, right?" "Don't." The wine bottle from behind him is brought to his lips, and you stare at your fingernails. "Don't…what? Isn't he–" "Hardly." Seungkwan mutters, and you don't press further. You know that Seungkwan doesn't resent or dislike Seungcheol, all the gods in this world seemed very close and proved it often. Seungcheol has spoken highly of Seungkwan in all the times you've ever gotten to speak to him, usually in Jeonghan's presence. Typically over a dinner before Jeonghan would send you back with Wonwoo and Cerberus.

Seungkwan sighs beside you, and you resist the urge to reach and touch him. You grip the edge of the bench, forcing yourself to stare at the bread before Seungkwan gets up, taking it out carefully with the wooden peel. He slides it onto the counter, before the fire goes out in front of you.

"It's nightfall. Off to bed." He murmurs, and you nod silently, downing the rest of the wine in the glass he gave you. He takes it, gently placing it into the sink as you stand. "Goodnight, Seungkwan." "You're sleeping in your room tonight?" He asks, eyes expectant. You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks burn as you nod. "Yes. At least, I'll try to." He hums, nodding. "Good luck, threadling. I'll see you in the morning." Pushing past you, you hear him walk briskly down the hallway, his heavy door opening and shutting before you even turn around. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding, running your hand through your hair as you spin on your heels, quickly walking down the hallway.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you breeze past his bedroom, hearing him rustle around. You were good at many things and feared almost nothing – but you held this fear near and dear to your heart. You hated being alone, and you were scared of ending up alone forever.

You're as human as they come.

You skirt into your room, quickly closing the door behind you and closing the open shutters of your window. You light the lamp on one of the nightstands, stripping quickly before ripping your duvet off and wrapping yourself in it. Sitting on the bed, you scoot up all the way until you're practically sitting on your pillows, and bring your knees to your chest.

It's time to learn to be alone.

Seungkwan can't sleep.

He's been laying in his bed for what feels like hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. 

He sighs, knowing that your absence is taking a toll on him. He felt bad about everything that has happened throughout the day, but he can't bring himself to admit that to you. He can't bring himself to say sorry about speaking to you the way he did earlier, or making you eat alone, though it wasn't his intention. He just assumed you'd want to be alone, but his heart sank when he saw the teacup you'd left him, so warm and sweet and everything you were that he couldn't have.

Groaning, he kicks the covers off, grabbing his robe off the bedpost and wrapping it around himself. He slides out of bed, walking to his door and yanks it open, letting it go as he takes the sharp turn down the hall to your bedroom. He can see the glow from the lamp under the door, and he wonders if he should knock.

He decides against it, choosing to open it slowly. He sees you curled up against the wall, your eyes half closed when he clears his throat. You jump, eyes filled with panic when you finally see him. He bites back his laugh as you scowl, walking towards your bed. He kneels on it, tugging the corner of your duvet over your shoulder. 

"How are you holding up here?" He asks, and you frown as you turn away from him, screwing your eyes shut. "I'm fine." "You're sitting on your pillows, angel." He tuts, making you groan. "Go away, Seungkwan." "And to think I was going to ask if you wanted to move to my room." He sighs, and you peel one eye open, looking him up and down. "As if you'd spare me." "Contrary to popular belief, I was going to do so." He says pointedly, and you turn to face him. Your cheek is lined with the rough pattern on the wall, making his heart ache. He felt awful that you were forcing yourself in here, and he clicked his tongue.

"Come on. You're not faring well in here, it seems. It's only just that I spare you this one time." Rolling his eyes, he ignores your small smile. "This one time, he says. What a just and fair god." "Shut up." He stands upright, and he hears you sigh as he turns away. "I'm sorry about earlier, Seungkwan."

He stills, hearing you clear your throat. "I said one thing and did another, that wasn't fair of me. I shouldn't have said anything about what transpired this morning–" "You're a human, Y/N. I'd be foolish to fully trust your word, you know that, right?" He interrupts, and you're silent. He peers over his shoulder, seeing your eyes narrowed as you slip off the bed, keeping the duvet wrapped around you as you shove your way out of the bedroom.

He sighs, putting out your lamp before following suit. You're already in his bedroom by the time he reaches the door, and you're laying on the very edge of the bed. As far as you could be without being on the floor, and as close as you could be to another being so as to not be alone.

He shakes his head, closing the door behind him. Slipping his robe off, he slides into the bed. His stomach is far more at ease having you at arm's length, being able to just barely make out your frame from under your layered duvets.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan." You mutter, and he turns onto his side. "Goodnight, angel."

SIX.

You didn't sleep very well, you weren't going to lie to yourself.

It was like you were on the verge of falling asleep, but it just never happened. You could feel your body more sluggish than you'd felt the past few mornings. However, today, you were once more graced by Seungkwan pressed to your back. The sun wasn't up, the sky gloomy as you turned in his hold. His eyes were closed, but he was so close you could count his eyelashes. You stared at him tiredly, before you heard him speak. "You're staring awfully hard." "I can't sleep." You mutter back, and his eyes remain closed as he nods. "Mmh. Would you like to stay in the bedroom today? It smells like rain."

"You can smell rain?" You ask, and he shrugs. "Some days it's stronger than others, the smell. It's like wet Earth and whatnot." 

You nod, though he can't see you. Sighing, you close your eyes again, hoping you'll fall asleep at the proximity between you two. You weren't going to lie to yourself, he brought you a comfort you couldn't quite place. Like he could judge but he won't, like he could leave, but he won't. 

"Do you need anything to help you sleep? I know humans can be fussy if they don't get enough rest." He murmurs, and you peel open one eye to look at him. His eyes are still closed, as if he's also trying to will himself to sleep. You don't reply, hoping he'll use some stupid godly power to read your mind.

"Y/N, closed mouths don't get fed." He reminds you, and you groan. "Fine, fine. Can you just…hold me?" "Hold you?" He repeats, and you shift next to him. He sighs, before carefully draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer into him. His fingers are cool against your back, tracing circles into your skin as you nestle into the crook of his neck. "Better?" "Mhm." You hum into his skin, before feeling his lips press to your hairline. It's quick, and so light you almost missed it. "What's that for?" "For yesterday." He mumbles back, before settling again. You brush it off, choosing to relax in his embrace as his breathing slows. He's fallen back asleep, presumably only awoken by your movement.

You must've fallen asleep as well at some point, because a crack of thunder startles you awake. Pressing a hand to your chest, you look up to see Seungkwan staring behind you, seemingly lost in thought as his fingers continue to trace shapes into your back. Your leg is now draped over his hip, and he's holding himself up on his elbow.

"Seungkwan?" His eyes dart down to you, before a look of concern takes over. "Hm? Are you okay?" "Yeah." You nod, and he gives you a curt nod back, before returning to his spacing out. You don't have it in you to tell him you're overheating, so you just settle back in. "Are you okay? What are you looking at?" 

"Nothing. I'm just waiting for you." He shrugs, and you tilt your head at him. "For what?" "You ask a lot of questions, threadling."

"You avoid them a lot."

He raises his brow at your quip, before splaying his fingers across your hip, giving it a soft squeeze. "I didn't want to disturb your rest. If I get up, you'll wake up. Then everything after is a domino effect." You stare up at him, your eyes tracing his features. Round eyes, soft lips. Lips that let painful things slip, only to be soothed by other things tumbling out. Eyes that held truths, that held fire and held want. A wanton yearning to be loved.

"You're staring, angel." "You're pretty." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way his ears tinge pink as he sighs. "Well, you're up. Let's get a move on, the day is full of opportunity."

He looks down at you, eyes narrowing as they fall to your shoulder. You hadn't noticed the bruise that bloomed from your fall yesterday, and he moves your hair out of the way gently. His fingers grazed the welted spot, "What happened here?" "Oh, I fell off the bed when Jeonghan appeared yesterday." You look down at it, his brows furrowed. "Does it hurt?" "I'm sure it will if you press on it." You roll your eyes, and he frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Why would I? You were mean to me yesterday." You scoff, making him return the noise of disdain. "You started it!" "Let's not play the blame game. Clearly one of us should be the one who leads here and you're not doing a very good job of it." Shaking your head, you hear him groan above you. 

"Fine. It wasn't my intention to treat you poorly yesterday, and I will try my best to not have it happen again. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You frown at him, your lip jutted out just slightly. "You can't just say sorry?" Your eyes lock with his for a second, scanning each other. He wants to, you can tell, he wants to apologize. He wants to make it up to you, but pride is a far stronger power than any remorse in the air. His hand gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Don't pout, it's not a good look on you." He presses his lips to your forehead, before pulling away and throwing the duvet off the both of you. You huff, watching as he slips out of bed and grabs his robe from the bedpost. He pulls it on swiftly, and you roll onto your back stretching your arms over your head before pushing the duvet further off your body. You're sure it's well past noon at this point.

You hear Seungkwan click his tongue, and you look up to see him standing at the window, leaning on the window sill. He's scanning the vast gardens, likely trying to plan for yet another day of rain. You slide out of bed, crossing your arms over your bare chest as you walk over to look with him.

"Wonder what's got Seungcheol in a mood." You murmur, seeing the flooded pond towards the edge of the garden. A frog hops into the flowers, and Seungkwan shrugs. "Sometimes he just likes to make it rain. Anything to get his name in someone's mouth." You snort, and he smiles inwardly.

"If the rain lets up this week, we can go to the market. I need to find out if my leathersmith can make shoes for you, and I don't think Chan brought the yarn for you, did he?" He peers up at you, and you sigh, shaking your head. "I don't mind waiting, though. I can find something else to do." "Like washing the windows that you forgot about yesterday?" He says pointedly, and you scoff out a laugh. "Way to be subtle." He smiles widely, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. You oblige, allowing him to move you in front of him. "It's pretty, though, isn't it? The rain?" "It's dreary sometimes. I think of it more as a necessary evil." You nod, feeling his chin rest gently on your shoulder. "It brings things to life but it also drowns out any happiness I have for the day. The lack of sunshine makes me depressed." "I heard that, yeah. Something about mortals not faring well during the colder months, because there's no sun." He nods, and you feel his hands wrap around your waist, clasping together over your navel. "I assume it's just that same darkness, right? It's like, desperation." "It just makes me sad. There's a lack of life, in my opinion." You twist to look at him, seeing him close his eyes. "I agree, there's something missing when the days get shorter. I lose a lot of motivation." Your eyes widen at his admission, but you don't get a chance to expand on it before feeling his lips plant a soft kiss on your shoulder. "You should get dressed, we haven't eaten anything yet."

He makes no move to let you go, instead choosing to trail his lips along your skin before reaching the thin gold chain he'd given you a few days earlier. "Seungkwan…" "Mmh?" He tugs at it with his teeth, before nipping at your neck softly. You jolt in his hold, your skin littering with goosebumps at the contact of his teeth. Shivering, you twist further in his hold, feeling his hands move up from where they were clasped. The pads of his fingers ghost over the bottom of your breasts, and you feel your entire face heat as he speaks into your skin. "Face forward."

You huff, but move to look back out the window. Your eyes try to focus on the garden when you feel his thumbs graze your nipples, before his large hands begin palming gently. The cool metal of his jewelry against your hardened nubs makes you shiver, and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.

"Sensitive here?" He breathes against your skin, pinching your nipples gently as you let out a low, choked whine. His teeth tug at your earlobe, making you jolt before you hear him speak again. "Eyes open, angel." "You're horrible." You mutter, feeling his lips curve against the shell of your ear. "I can stop." "No! Don't, please." Your head hangs a bit, burning in humiliation as a soft chuckle sounds behind you. It seems you don't know how to shut your mouth, because the words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Please touch me." "How can I deny you when you're so polite?" He's mocking you, and you feel the warmth of his right hand leave your chest, ghosting down your torso. "Where, angel? Here?" His hand rests on your stomach, making you shake your head frantically, taking his wrist in your hand and guiding him lower.

"Here." You feel almost embarrassed as you feel him rest his forehead against your shoulder, before his fingers slowly glide over your center, his middle landing a teasing tap to your clit. You jerk slightly, making him laugh behind you before he moves further, dragging his fingertips through your wet folds with ease. You feel frustration grow slightly in your belly as he teases you, before he removes his hand completely.

You scoff, about to complain when you see him hold his hand up to the light. His fingers are slick with your arousal, strings of it connecting his knuckles as he separates them.

"Would you look at that?" His tone is one full of mischief, before he brings his hand closer to your face. "Open." His forefinger taps your lip, and you instinctively stick your tongue out, sliding it between his fingers without a word. Your eyes flutter closed as you taste yourself on his skin, the mix something invigorating, your need to be touched by him only fueled by the heat of his eyes on your face.

"Dirty little thing, aren't you?" He murmurs as you run your tongue over one of his rings, before you kiss the metal. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." He doesn't respond, instead choosing to push you slightly against the windowsill, trailing his lips down your back. You lean forward, anticipation brewing in your belly when you feel him kneel behind you, before feeling his teeth sink lightly into your ass. You can't hold your groan in, or hide the way your hips push back. He lets go of the bitten flesh, opting to lick at the marks with a sigh. "So pretty when you're needy." His lips press to your skin in peppered kisses, before he gently spreads your legs a bit more. You oblige, leaning on your forearms across the windowsill and holding the outside edge. His hands circle your upper thighs, and he squeezes them gently as he presses a kiss to your clit. You sigh, trying not to push against him as his tongue darts out, slowly dragging through your folds. He gathers your arousal messily, pulling soft whines from your throat when he finally wraps his pouty lips around your clit, sucking lightly. Your head hangs low as sounds slip from your mouth, your fingertips turning white from how hard you're gripping the windowsill when he begins to shallowly thrust his tongue into your hole, his hand moving from your thigh to thumb at your clit.

A whimper of profanities jumble from your lips, grinding your hips against his face and hand as your thighs begin to tremble. Your knees buck a bit, Seungkwan's arms reflexively moving to wrap around your waist as he buries his tongue deeper into your cunt. He groans into you, arms tightening around you as your hips continue to push back onto him. He grunts, pushing you away from his tongue entirely.

"You know, you're not very nice." He begins, making you groan. "I'm–" You're cut off by the wet sound of his fingers teasing your entrance carefully. You feel his teeth sink into the flesh of your ass again, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly slides his fingers inside you, a low groan from your throat as he speaks. 

"You're what? A brat? A pain in my ass? Sorry, for both of those things, maybe?"

You huff at his words, "I'm sorry." He hums into your skin, his eyes trained on the way your gummy walls swallow his fingers with ease, curling them as you squirm. "Sorry for what?"

His fingers brush the spongy spot, making you jolt with a high-pitched moan. "Sorry for what, angel?" He coos, carefully keeping his slow pace as he stands, lips pressed to the skin of your neck and shoulders. 

"E-Everything." You sigh, your forehead pressed against your forearm, clenching around his fingers as he bullies them into you. "Everything, she says. What's this everything, hm?" He kisses your shoulder gently, peering over your shoulder to see your eyes screwed shut. Smiling to himself, he stills his movements, hearing you groan and peel your eyes open. "What are you sorry for?" You breathe out shakily, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as he slowly starts again. "I-I'm sorry for being a brat." "Oh, are you?" He nods, watching your hips push against his hand with a smirk. "Are you sorry for being a pain in my ass, too?" "No." You blurt, shaking your head as he snorts. "At least you're honest." "I keep you on your toes, you can't punish me f-for that." Your voice is no higher than a whisper as he moves his free hand to your face, carefully swiping away the stray hair sticking to your skin. "For the record, I don't hate you." You shake your head, eyes clouded with lust as you peer at him. "You do, though." 

He doesn't reply, opting to move his hand, now rubbing soft circles into your clit. Your legs tremble slightly at the added stimulation, whines from your throat as he begins to speak. "I don't. How could I?" He knows you'll probably forget this later, so why hold back? He presses his lips to your neck, peppering kisses there as he feels your pussy start to clamp around his fingers. 

"How could I, Y/N? I think about you all the time, you know? Fuck, you're so pretty." His teeth nip at the skin, and he feels you struggle to hold yourself up as your orgasm approaches. "Could never hate you, gorgeous. So good for me, right? Just for me." You shudder as the words hit your ears, and Seungkwan takes this as an incentive to keep going. "Wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? My pretty angel, all mine? Hm?" 

Your bitten lips part in a silent sob as you nod, your orgasm coating his fingers as your head hangs low. Seungkwan's eyes close as he presses his lips to your warm skin, unintelligible whispers slipping as he carefully withdraws his hand from between your legs. You remain silent as he slips away, before feeling a warm towel between your thighs.

"Take a bath. I'll make breakfast…or lunch, I guess now." He murmurs, tossing the towel aside and gently pulling your bruised elbows from the windowsill. You nod silently as he plants a soft kiss to your temple, before quietly guiding you to the bathroom. You feel your cheeks flush as his hand brushes your hip, pulling you close when you stumble. "Sorry." You mutter, but he only shakes his head as he pushes the bathroom door open, the sun now shining through the open window as he reaches for the faucet. He turns it on, running his fingers under the water until he deems it warm enough to help you climb into the tub.

"Any particular scent?" He asks as you settle into the cold tub, and you shake your head silently. No words are exchanged as he picks out his scent, the basil leaf in the jar mocking you as he slides it onto the rim of the tub. "Call me if you need anything, alright?" Nodding, you press your lips into a thin line as he carefully swipes your hair out of your eyes. His own are conflicted, but he nods curtly and takes his leave. 

You sigh shakily, your fingers reaching for your tense thighs as you think about his words. He'd come across the past few days as someone who didn't feel the need to prove anything to you – you were a human, someone who was virtually just a speck of dust in his universe.

Your eyes burn lightly, the tears of shame slipping down your cheeks as you groan inwardly. You certainly hadn't expected him to show you any of his feelings that way, but you weren't mad at all. You just felt…a pit of despair settle into your stomach.

Feeling like Seungkwan was out of your reach…that gap should be bridged now, right? He showed you his desire, he spoke about it. So why does he feel so much further away now?

SEVEN.

The next week and a half were the most mind-boggling thing you think you've ever experienced.

The two of you did not speak of the prior events – opting to both drown them out and keep repeating the same mistakes by enticing each other. If he wasn't waking you up with his tongue circling your clit, he was grinding his clothed cock against you in the kitchen and telling you how badly you got on his nerves. If you chose to run your mouth, he'd put it to better use – whether that meant he shoved a piece of bread into it or his cock was up for whatever the stars aligned with that day.

The past two days had been touch-free; the god was bent over his desk as you got ready to leave the temple. He'd promised you a visit to the market for new shoes as well as yarn for your loom, but he was everything but ready. He didn't move as he heard you standing in the doorway of his bedroom, your wine red skirt low on your hips as you leaned on the frame.

"Seungkwan?"

"Mmh?" He hummed, not looking up as he flipped a pen through his fingers. He heard you sigh, walking up to his desk and plucking it from his fingers. "You said we'd leave by noon. It's past that." "I did say that." He nods, reaching for his pen as you hold it out of reach. "Seungkwan."

He sighs, before finally looking up at you. His eyes widen slightly, and you look at him expectantly as he stares in silence. "Are you having a stroke?" "What?" He blinks, before shaking his head. You snort, before setting the pen on the desk. "Are you having a stroke? You've been odd all day."

Has he? He thinks back – bath, breakfast, a bit of time in the garden with you while he tried to teach you how to prune the marigolds…emphasis on tried.

"No. I'm fine. You look…nice. Ready?" He clears his throat, watching as you carefully slip your hair over your shoulder. You look exactly the same as you have since you arrived, but…something feels different. You feel different.

Could explain the absolute heat in his chest when he woke up to your face these past few days. And why he couldn't bear to look at you any longer than a simple conversation, he notes, as his eyes divert back to the philosophy book on his desk.

"Well…come on? I'm hungry and the walk is long." You smile, before turning on your heel. Seungkwan takes a deep breath, before standing and trailing after you. Neither of you stop to gather any bites for the road, but he can't unglue his eyes from the soft swing of your hips. 

Get it together. He shakes it off, opting to look away as you trek down the steps of the temple. "We can get new shoes for you today, I know I said we'd touch base on that." "We did!" You stretch in the afternoon sun, the light hitting your supple skin perfectly. Skin he longs to run his fingers down, sink his teeth into, kiss raw–

"Do you think they'll have yarn like my father's?" You ask, waiting for him to catch up to you. You link your arms once he does, ignoring the way he stiffens slightly as you slip your fingers in his. "I really liked the dyed yarns we'd get from Olympus. Lydia was always very barren for wool and such." He listens to you talk about your father for a while, as he subconsciously guides the two of you through the two-hour walk to the market. Why hasn't he gotten a horse? Why is he making you walk two hours, when you could be rambling about your memories upon a noble steed? He makes it a mental note as the twinkling lights of the market come into view. You stop talking and gasp lightly, your fingers squeezing his as you look over the treetops to the gaggle of tents and life. You smile inwardly, excitedly pulling him closer as you walk quickly. His cheeks burn as you finally reach the entrance of the market, a few bystanders looking at you as your eyes widen.

"Wow. It's beautiful here." You murmur, your eyes scanning the glittering of gold jewelry at the green tent he'd bought your necklace at. He lets you pull him carefully through the sweaty bodies, your eyes wide as you take in all the colors and glitters and the way you instinctively float over to a pair of slender shoulders hunched over a tent of yarns and wool.

The vendor looked up quickly, her smile bright as she saw you scour everything excitedly. You pulled your fingers out of Seungkwan's hand, leaving the god to stand a distance behind you as you ran the pads of your fingers across all the wool she had displayed. There were beautifully dyed yarns – from deep, earthy greens to royal purples, you carefully collected a few as the vendor showed you sample after sample.

"What do you think of this one?" Your voice brought Seungkwan back to Earth, his eyes landing on a soft, ocean blue yarn dyed lightly with indigo. You bounced the material in your palms, rattling off ideas of what you could weave with it when Seungkwan interrupts you.

"Get whatever you want, threadling. I've got it." Seungkwan pats his pouch, thankful he remembered to snag it off the desk before the two of you left the temple. In the glowing twinkle lights of the market, Seungkwan can almost make out a blush on your cheeks as you quickly whip around to look back at the vendor with a shy smile.

It wasn't long before you held a bag full of yarn, Seungkwan silently digging into his pouch for gold coins to give to the vendor. He took the bag gingerly, before you absently looped your arm with his as you bid the vendor a good evening. Your fingertips were cool against his, but he welcomed it as he squeezed them gently.

Seungkwan couldn't help but admire you under the twinkling lights and low sun. Your skin glowed slightly, the bruise on your shoulder from Jeonghan's visit now yellow with time. Your white top wrapped tightly across your chest, worn sandals guiding you through the people who began to gather around the jewelry tents.

His chest feels tight at the idea of falling in love with you under this romanticized perspective.

"Did you ever come here with your father?" Seungkwan asks softly, and you frown slightly, shaking your head. "My father was much too old to make the journey here. Our markets were further south, but it was mostly fish and fruit. I often went alone to gather our weekly rations. My mother…she was good friends with Taeyeon. I'm sure you know her, right? The goddess of harvest?" Seungkwan nods, "I do. She ventures into these parts every so often."

Smiling, you slow down and lean your head on his shoulder as you walk through the dusty market. Your gaze falls upon tasty treats and wide-eyed children holding sugared apples, and you find yourself leading Seungkwan over. "Are you hungry?" "I'm alright. Would you like something?" Seungkwan shifts in your hold, watching the vendor carefully peel an orange off its pith. You nod, pointing at the scrawled menu. "Have you ever had candied orange peel?" "Have you?" He snorts, looking at the jarred delicacy. He watched as your hands ghosted over a custard sitting on a bed of ice, before the vendor stood quickly, orange in hand as she pushed her partner away from the boiling sugar above the fire. "No, but I've also never really had desserts. My father was very strict about sweet things at night." Seungkwan nods as he watches the vendor shakily shove the slices onto a wooden skewer, before carefully coating them in the hot sugar. His fingers squeeze yours as she dips them into a bucket of ice water, the sizzle of the sugar making the water pop over the edge. She holds it up and out to you, a pointed look in her eyes.

"Take it." Seungkwan encourages, and you shyly reach out for it. She gives you a napkin, before mumbling to wait a bit to eat it. Seungkwan offers her money, but she shakes her head. "I haven't seen a pair of lovers in a while, just enjoy it." Seungkwan hates the way his entire body heats at the idea of being your lover, but you're not faring much better – your smile is shy as you nod, letting your hair fall into your eyes as you look away. The tips of your ears are flushed as you ask her for a jar of the candied peels, which she simply shoves into your hand. "On the house. Or on the tent, I guess." You pull Seungkwan away with yet another thank you from your lips, when Seungkwan's eyes catch the leathersmith beginning to set up shop. "Wait, you need new shoes. Let's go this way." You oblige, allowing the god to tug you carefully. The leathersmith was an older man who had his son along as an apprentice, aiming to have the younger man take over the shop once he passed on. Seungkwan had quite the hearty relationship with the older gentleman, but often found a small taste of disdain in his mouth after speaking to his son. He was young and a bit snobby, ungrateful – a few of the traits Seungkwan deemed unattractive.

"Oh, Seungkwan! I haven't seen you in quite a while. How are you? And who is this beautiful young woman? I'm Mr. Kim." The leathersmith took his hat off quickly, offering his hand for you to shake. You did so cheerily, as the older man smiled at you.

"I'm Y/N. I'm a…pupil of Seungkwan's." You say with a bit of hesitance, but Seungkwan's fingers squeeze yours in confirmation. You were, after all…just a pupil. Someone he's not supposed to have feelings for, he reminds himself.

Mr. Kim quickly gestures to his son, who is setting up the machinery. His hands are coated in oil from it, and Seungkwan feels his stomach turn at the idea of his fingers smearing it over your skin when they measure you. He'll have to wash your feet for you when you arrive home–

No? He won't?

"This is my son, you remember him, right? Jisung, say hello." The son glances up with a look of discernment, before Seungkwan notices his eyes land on you. You've begun to nibble onto the candied orange slices, licking your lips of bits of sugar. Seungwan instinctively pulls you closer, before the leathersmith looks at the god as he speaks. "Yes, I do. How're you, Jisung? Taking well after your father, I assume?" The younger man barely acknowledges him, his eyes still on you as you glance around all the leather scraps. There are a few different patterns on the soles of pre-cut shoes, and Seungkwan feels you pull away to run your fingers through the intricate designs. Stars, small waves, dainty paisley. There is a pair with flowers that stop at the arch of the shoe, and you hold it up.

"These?" Your eyes are a little brighter as you hold the candied oranges in your teeth, tracing the pattern with your bruised fingertips. Seungkwan smiles, starting to speak when Jisung cuts him off. "You have to get fitted and come back, we can't just give you pre-made soles." Seungkwan feels his lips tug down as Jisung takes the sole from you, and you nod carefully. "You could be nicer about it, you know. I'm sure your father wouldn't appreciate you treating his prospective clients with this attitude." Mr. Kim's eyes widen as his son scoffs, a quick flush overtaking his cheeks and ears as Jisung tosses the pre-made soles back into the bucket. He clears his throat as you turn away from Jisung with a frown full of disdain, before speaking up. "I assume you are here for shoes, right? What soles did you want?"

You shake your head and shrug. "Whatever you can make for me, I'll take it. I would hate to cause you any trouble, Mr. Kim."

It's clearly a jab at his son, but if he notices, he says nothing. The older gentleman rounds the chair he's had set up and fishes through the bucket for the soles you'd had in your hand. "These, right? They're marigolds." He taps the sole with his knuckle, before patting the chair with his hand.

"Sit, I'll fit them for you. They're pre-made for a reason, emergencies. Your straps are about to fall apart, dear." He grimaces at your sandals, and you feel a soft blush coat your cheeks. "Well, they've been through a lot with me." Seungkwan watches as you carefully take Mr. Kim's hand to sit atop the lifted chair, and as he carefully takes your sandals off. Your feet are slightly swollen from the walk to the market, and he nearly misses the way Jisung takes Mr. Kim's spot in front of you. He spreads his thighs over the edge of the stool, his hand grabbing your ankle out of the stirrup and examining your foot. He grimaces as he runs his fingers over the carmine-covered toenails, carefully tugging on your toes to make your joints pop.

It all felt too intimate for Seungkwan's taste, but he tongues his cheek as Mr. Kim starts digging through his bucket of leather straps.

"Do you want braided straps? I have a few of those, I think they'd suit you." Mr. Kim speaks as Jisung runs a wet sponge down the arch of your foot, making Seungkwan grimace inwardly. Your eyes flutter closed at the cool water dripping along your skin, Jisung's hands carefully massaging the sore arch. You don't respond, so Seungkwan nods in Mr. Kim's direction with a forced smile.

"Feel good?" Jisung's voice breaks through the air, and Seungkwan doesn't like the way his stomach tightens as your nose scrunches, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot. "Feels nice, yeah. We walked the entire way here." "Did you, now?" Jisung glances over his shoulder, and it's as if the shared horse for the father-son duo picks up on his commentary, whinnying behind the tent. Seungkwan frowns, "She asked to." "So you just do whatever she wants?" Jisung asks lowly, and Mr. Kim holds up a matching pair of fishtailed straps. "Aha!" Jisung gives Seungkwan a sour look as he carefully wipes your foot of excess water and dirt, leaving the god to cross his arms over his chest while holding your bag of yarn. You're trying to focus on the candied oranges in your hand, carefully biting at the sweet flesh when Jisung swipes the wet sponge across your other foot, holding it up to his face as he examines your toes. "Walk barefoot a lot?" "Well–" "Pretty girls like you shouldn't be doing that." He tugs at your toes, popping the joints in this foot as well before squeezing gently. "What kind of a god are you, letting her walk around in old shoes? Don't you care?"

Your eyes are wide as he speaks directly to Seungkwan, who only scowls. "Isn't it inappropriate to compliment your clients? Just do what you're here to do, I can take care of her on my own." "Seems like you can't, if she's walking here and wearing old shoes." Jisung barks back, and you shift uncomfortably. Seungkwan can tell you're starting to pick up on his disdain for the younger man, who only digs his fingers into the flesh of your calf. Seungkwan doesn't respond, opting to move over to Mr. Kim, who is hunched over his workbench. He's carefully piercing the leather with a thick needle, his fingers covered in makeshift thimbles as he holds the leather in shaky hands. Seungkwan doesn't let your conversation with Jisung leave his mind as he eavesdrops, Jisung asking you where you're from and if you're single. You just answer with a disinterested tone, something that makes Seungkwan smile inwardly as Mr. Kim holds the shoe up. 

"Think they'll fit?" He asks, needle tucked between his lips as Seungkwan examines it, nodding carefully. "If they're a little big it's fine too, she's on her feet a lot." No you weren't. You hadn't done anything in the temple but lay in his bed with him and prune flowers. He stopped making you step into the kitchen, last week allowing you to simply exist within the temple and the gardens. You enjoyed dipping your feet into the pond, and grabbing the frogs in your palms as they croaked quietly.

There hadn't been a single drop of rain since he had you against the windowsill in his bedroom. Almost as though Seungcheol was listening, and eerily enough, maybe even watching. 

Seungkwan took the time to tend the garden when he wasn't riling you up in whatever form he could. He hated that he was starting to enjoy the way you poked at him, wanting to elicit a reaction out of him, yearning for the way his hands would grip you firmly if he was pushing you against any surface he could manage.

Yet, your lips still have yet to graze in the way you beg for constantly. He'll kiss you anywhere you ask, anywhere you want – but your lips remain untouched, bitten by your own teeth, glossed by your own spit and calling his name out wantonly. 

How he yearns to shut you up that way sometimes.

"How is it, having a new pupil? You haven't had one in a while." Mr. Kim asks as Seungkwan's eyes trailed the way Jisung's hands go up a little too high on your knee. You frown a bit, your lips pursed as you push it down. He apologizes swiftly, a twitch in his lip as you cross your legs at the ankle. You both continue the odd conversation, with Jisung questioning your attire. You answer that Seungkwan made it for you, and isn't it so pretty?

Jisung glances over his shoulder before scoffing out a yeah.

"It's fine. She's very smart and quick witted, and keeps me on my toes." Seungkwan nods, watching you and Jisung out of the corner of his eye. Jisung is now massaging your feet with a salve, likely one from the apothecary two tents down. It smells of eucalyptus, a scent Seungkwan noticed you avoided in the shampoo shelf – the citrus basil disappearing much faster. Your nose scrunched once more as he wrapped your feet in warm towels from a basket, before your eyes met Seungkwan's.

You blink at him, tilting your head towards Jisung before making a face of annoyance. He huffs out a small laugh, earning a smile from you as you return your attention to the younger man in front of you. You ask Jisung if he always does this for his customers, and he snorts in response as he tucks the towel corner under your ankle with a resounding no.

"She's very pretty, Seungkwan." Mr. Kim pipes up from his workbench, and Seungkwan's eyes dart to the older man. He's giving the god a pointed look, watching as Seungkwan shifts silently before letting out a sigh. "I'm not ready, Mr. Kim." "We never are, when the right one comes along." He murmurs, and he looks up to ensure you can't hear him before he proceeds. "What's stopping you? The fact that she's a human?" "Somewhat." He shrugs, opting to leave out the extensive story of your past – how he sent you to the Underworld within hours of meeting you, how you made him feel vulnerable in a way he hated. How you made him feel like putty with your hands, your mouth, your words of praise and reassurance as you trailed your lips anywhere he'd let you. 

He remembers telling you how greedy you were as he nipped at your neck three nights ago, your incessant whining for a kiss on the lips only making him slow the rut of his hips against your clothed core. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, mouthing at his jaw with whimpers from your throat as he palmed at your body beneath him. "So, so greedy. Can never just take what I give you, hm? Always want more."

"What else?" Mr. Kim asks, and Seungkwan rubs his neck lightly, a worried smile on his lips as he admits defeat. "I just know that it won't work. She's a mortal, it won't be good for either of us. One day, she'll be gone and I'll still be left here." "Isn't the purpose of life to find something that fulfills you?" Mr. Kim objects, raising his brows at the god before him. "If she makes you feel happy, and you feel fulfilled making her feel loved, cherished, whatever the case may be – shouldn't that be enough for you to take it and run like the wind? Love is something so fickle, something so hard to find yet so easy to ruin. Don't let your doubts ruin what you and Miss Y/N have. You yearn for her, Seungkwan." "I do not." He scoffs, glancing at you as Jisung removes the now cool towels, your eyes closed as he wipes away the salve that went unabsorbed. Mr. Kim only smiles in response as he hands Seungkwan the shoes, the leather warm against his fingertips. "Just think about it, Seungkwan. It can't do any harm." Except it can, he thinks.

Seungkwan is selfish. He'd always been that way – wanting only the best for himself, opting to choose the better routes, the better classes, the better books. Carefully selecting anyone and everyone he allowed into his hermit-like life, his secretive ways.

He only wanted the best, and he fears that if he doesn't figure himself out soon, you'll be the only best he sees slip through his fingers. He knows that you're good – he knows that your heart is so painfully fragile, wrapped in layers of hurt from losing your father and missing out on the last years of his life. He knows that you're trying so hard to keep up the same facade that he is – that you're stronger than you let on, that you're braver, that you're better.

He's only a god because Seungcheol said so, he's no different than you are.

He figured that a few nights ago, watching you sleep against his chest. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder, your lips glistening with a bit of drool. He wanted to kiss you so deeply then, his fingers carefully carding through your tangled hair and tugging at the necklace he'd given you. You'd stirred slightly, barely opening your eyes to peer up at him. He smiled silently, making you grunt softly before snuggling back into his skin.

It's odd, he realizes. How easily just a taste of you, just one moment of his walls being down, led from angry, bitter words to playful banter and dirty phrases whispered into sweaty skin. How in just a few days, you carefully removed layers from his guarded heart, desperately wanting to earn a spot in it. And…he just let you. He just let you call him pretty, he just let you kiss his worries away. He let you toe the line of the boundaries he'd set in place, your lips just barely hovering over his when he'd let you take the lead, your skirt bunched around your hips as you both relished in the wet sound of your cunt dragging against his bare thighs.

He just let you prove to him, over the course of a few nights, that you desired him…but deeper than anyone ever had. You cared nothing about his presence as a god, in fact, you challenged it – you poked and prodded, you pissed him off with your carefully chosen words and you mended him back together just as quickly. You jerked his emotions around, riling him up by touching him inappropriately for a pupil, but he gave in so fast. He loved it, he loved how you felt against him, he loved you.

And it pains him inside.

"Let me see the shoes." Jisung breaks Seungkwan out of his thoughts, and he reluctantly hands them over to the younger man. Seungkwan fishes in his pouch for money, placing fifteen gold coins in Mr. Kim's change cup. Ten more than the leathersmith often charged, but Seungkwan paid him no mind as he watched Jisung carefully slide the sandals over your feet. 

Too. Intimate.

He carefully wrapped the straps around your ankle, the pads of his fingers lingering before Seungkwan cleared his throat loudly. Your eyes dart to the god, who has a frown on his lips as he offers his hand for you to step off the chair. The sun was slightly lower now, meaning it would be time to start heading home soon. You take Seungkwan's hand gingerly, carefully stepping down as your other hand presses against his chest for extra support.

"How d'you feel, Miss?" Mr. Kim asks as you bounce on your toes, and you seem content as you give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. You seem happy with them, but Seungkwan doesn't miss the way your eyes trail to the worn sandals you'd previously donned. They held history, they'd taken you wherever you'd been and seen everything you had. Seungkwan understands as he gathers them in his hand carefully, holding them out to Mr. Kim. "Can you refresh these? Is that possible?" 

Your eyes grow wide before they're squished by the fat of your cheeks as you smile, now wrapping your arms around Seungkwan's as Mr. Kim nods eagerly. "Return within a fortnight, I'll have them as good as new." Seungkwan nods, before pouring a few more coins into the change cup and bidding his goodbye. Mr. Kim gives him yet another pointed look, before looking at you. His eyes speak volumes – volumes of kiss her, of hold her, of love her.

Seungkwan nods curtly, before spinning on his heel and pulling you away.

"It'll be chilly soon. Would you like to get a blanket for the walk back?" He asks quietly, and you nod eagerly. "Maybe also, something else to eat? The candied orange was good but…I'm not full yet." Seungkwan glances over at you, seeing a bit of sugar crystals gathered at the corners of your lips. He smiles to himself, wiping his thumb against the skin carefully. You look at him as he licks the sugar off the pad of his finger, an amused look in your eyes as you shake your head. "If you wanted some of it, you could've said so." Seungkwan only smiles to himself, holding you close as he pulls you behind a tent. Your eyes scan his face as he carefully moves your hair away from your face. "I'm sure you still have some left, right?" "I finished it. See?" You hold up the empty skewer, your eyes innocently scouring him as he feels his chest warm. He takes it out of your hand, tossing it into a tent's garbage bin. "But you can give me a taste anyhow, can't you?" Your eyes cast confusion until his lips ghost over yours. "Didn't like how he was touching you." He murmurs, just barely touching your skin. "M'sorry." You mumble back, nuzzling your nose against his. 

"Are you?" He asks, pulling away slightly. Your cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment under his hands, his thumbs carefully pinching the fat. Your hands rest on his chest as he carefully takes your jaw in his large hand, the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin making you jolt. "Didn't like it. Only want you to touch me like that." You admit softly, your hands bunching the fabric of his chiton under them. He smiles, "Only me?" "Only you." You nod, and he hums in response. His thumb moves to pull at your plump lower lip, and he sighs as he moves back. "Well, we should start heading back. We can make it back before sundown, and it won't be as chilly." You look disappointed as he pulls back, your hands still holding onto his chiton as he does so. Your lip is jutted out into a pout, "Come on, Seungkwan." He bites back a laugh, opting to act dumb as he turns back to you. "Come on, what, Y/N?" "Kiss me." You frown, tugging his shirt gently until he's lowered enough to touch your nose to his. He lets you pull at him, his hands snaking around your waist. "Hm? Not sure you've earned that, angel." "You're so mean." You pout, your lower lip brushing his. He nips at it quickly, tugging it between his teeth as your eyes shutter closed. "Mean? You think so?"

He doesn't let you reply, pressing his lips against yours gently. He feels you sigh into his mouth, your hands moving up to his neck, arms gingerly wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands hold your hips, squeezing them softly as he pulls you closer to him. His tongue gently eases into your mouth, tasting the sweet tang of the orange against your teeth. Your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, licking into his mouth with precision, trying to hide your desperation as you claw at him. He pulls away carefully, his tongue swiping across his lips as your eyes open.

"Why'd you stop?" You whine, only prompting him to press one, two, three chaste kisses to your open mouth. "Because we're in public, and if you want more, we have to get home, angel." "You'll give me more?" "I'll give you whatever you want." He nods, his forehead touching yours. "Promise?" Your voice is small, but he smiles, pulling you into his chest. "I promise, angel."

The trip home was full of soft touches and his fingers pinching any skin he could manage. He pressed his lips against yours more than twice on the way there, the thick blanket he'd bought you draped carefully over your shoulders as he held your bag of yarn and candied orange peels. Your hand held a small bag of roasted chickpeas, the only other snack you bothered to pick out after Seungkwan kissed you. You suddenly weren't hungry for food, only the white-hot feeling of his lips against yours. You didn't talk as you walked home tiredly, only looked at the sky and at the straps of your new sandals.

"Let me run you a bath, angel." He offers as the temple comes into view, and you look up hesitantly. "Join me for it."

"Hmm. Maybe." He shrugs, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and carefully wrapping around it. It's comforting, the weight of his warmth against your skin as he pulls you closer to him. You allow it, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you reach the steps of the temple. The wind-down is easy. It's simple, he strips you of your clothing in his bedroom as he kisses you gently, his lips sweet against yours. Soft hums of approval as he felt your hands touch him as much as he'd allow, before guiding you down to the bathroom. He lets you tug off his chiton, his pants following as he holds you flush to him as he runs his fingers under the running water. 

And, he promptly joined you in the tub. Your back was nestled closely against his chest, his fingers wrapped around your hand and lips peppering kisses to your knuckles. Your hair had long been cleaned, his shampoo wafting off you as the warm suds surrounded your naked bodies. This…you'd read about this. Lovers, so close together. Lovers, holding each other dear, cherishing each other, worshiping each other.

Seungkwan's lips against your shoulders tear you from your thoughts, making you twist your head to peer at him. You wonder what's changed between the two of you. You know Seungkwan has kissed other mortals, done things he's done with you with other mortals. Why are you any different? Why is the taste of you any different, anything more than what he's had before?

And most of all, why does it weigh on you? Who cares about the other girls, as long as you get the guy?

You huff inwardly, toying with the suds at the edge of the tub.

"Closed mouths don't get fed, Y/N." His voice rings in your ears, the low rumble startling you slightly. He gives you a pointed look, his eyes sharp as he scans your features. "Sorry. Just thinking." "About?" He questions, his arms moving to wrap around your waist beneath the water. You shake your head lightly, leaning against his clavicle with a sigh. "Just everything and nothing, all at once." He doesn't press the issue. If he senses something is wrong, he says nothing. He instead runs his hands up your torso, pads of his fingers tickling your skin. "I really enjoyed spending time with you, today." He admits softly. You feel your cheeks heat as you look back at him again.

"Really?" "Really. I know we were late, we can go back another time and go as early as you'd like." He nods, and you smile widely as you nod in excitement. He smiles, his thumb moving to stroke your cheeks gently. "Let me take you to bed, yeah? It's late, we have a lot to do tomorrow." "You always say that, then you leave me wrapped in the duvet all morning and hand-feed me breakfast." You roll your eyes, making Seungkwan snort. "I can make life a lot harder, if you'd like." 

"No, don't do that." You feign a pout as you twist in his hold, opting to straddle his lap under the warm water. He looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs. "Tread lightly, angel." "I'm not doing anything." You smile down at him, opting to run your hands through his damp hair. He tongues his cheek. "You're always up to no good." "Just miss you." You murmur, pressing your forehead against his. He hums in response, pressing yet another chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. "Let me take you to bed." He repeats, voice raspier than before. You nod, before planting your lips against his without second thought. He allows it, kissing you back slowly as his arms wrap around your waist. 

"Come on." Once more, the night is smooth. You notice a few clouds gathering in the distance as Seungkwan wraps you carefully in a towel, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as the two of you trek to his bedroom. You hadn't slept in your own since that one night, with Seungkwan guiding you himself so as to not lose you in the dark.

You hated the way your stomach turned as you reached the bedroom and the clouds seemed closer, hoping it meant nothing. Hoping that you'd get to have this soft side of Seungkwan for longer, hoping that Seungcheol's mind games were just his own problems seeping through in the form of rolling thunder and bright lightning.

"Smells like rain." Seungkwan murmured as he dried your hair carefully with another towel, your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. "It does." Neither of you say anything else as you close the window tightly, placing towels on the ground should the forthcoming rain leak through. You slide under the covers as Seungkwan lights a lamp on his desk, burning slowly before he slides in next to you. He holds you close this time, instead of leaving you at arm's length.

"Goodnight, angel." "Goodnight, Seungkwan."

You try to ignore the clap of thunder in the sky as you snuggle into his chest, your cheek once more squished against his shoulder as he presses a soft kiss to your hairline. His own heart is thundering against his chest, and you can only hope it's because he fears the same thing you do.

Fighting once the night has passed, and the rain continues to pelt the wet Earth – and your blooming relationship alongside it.

EIGHT.

It has been six days since you and Seungkwan have been intimate at all, and there has been endless rain. He hasn't spoken much to you as it is, instead finding his way outside or busying himself in his bedroom – with his door closed. Your cheeks burn in humiliation when he closes the door behind him before bed, leaving you to burn the lamps in your bedroom through all the oil they've got while you curl yourself against the sheets. He doesn't spare you these nights, leaving you to feel your eyes heavy in the mornings, often retreating back during the bright afternoons to nap.

He feels relieved when you're not around.

Your lingering touches earn his hand pushing you away, the confusion in your eyes remaining unanswered as he pushes past you in the mornings. He won't look at you, he won't kiss you, he won't speak unless you speak first. He'll slide breakfast onto your nightstand and disappear for hours once you've awoken, his shoulders hidden behind bushes of flowers and tall trees in his garden. He silently washes the dishes, bakes countless focaccia loaves, pours your wine and runs your bath water.

He didn't join you again. You bit your tongue, hoping maybe it was just some odd rut of his. He seemed lost in thought as he rearranged flowers in clay pots left behind by former pupils as gifts, but you didn't miss the way he stiffened as he heard you behind him.

"Everything okay, Seungkwan?" You questioned softly, a gentle look on your face as you peered over his shoulder. He nods quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes. Lunch is soon, so why don't you spend some time in the bedroom? Or outside? I'll–" "Come outside with me." You suggest, before scanning his posture. "You've seemed really out of it for the last few days. It's starting to worry me." "Don't worry about me. I'm just in my head about things, I've got a lot to do." He lies like a dog, and you frown inwardly before stepping forward to stand next to him. "Come with me, Seungkwan." I miss you, lingers on your tongue, but he sighs frustratedly before his hands find your bare shoulders, turning you quickly and pushing you towards the garden doors. You try not to melt into the heat of his fingers, instead shaking them off quickly as you reach the beginning of the garden. The oak trees lining the garden tower over you, and you frown as the sky turns slightly grey at your presence. The clouds begin to roll in gently, covering the sunlight as you sigh.

"Are you upset with me?" You blurt, turning to face a rather unconfident Seungkwan. His eyes widen as he shakes his head. "Not at all. Come, we can prune the tulips–" "Seungkwan, be honest with me. I don't like this." Your confession makes his eyes dart away from your face, his hands folding in front of him as he loses purpose for them. He doesn't respond, instead tilting his head in the direction of the tulips. You tongue your cheek, before you step closer to him. His breath hitches in his throat, and you don't think you'd ever seen him look this unsteady.

"What is going on?" You murmur, your hands carefully rising to hold his face. He frowns, quickly capturing your wrists as your palms cover his cheeks. "Nothing is going on, Y/N." "Where have you gone?" Your whisper is slightly broken, your eyes full of concern for the equally ruined god in front of you. His eyes tear away from yours, nibbling his lip as you raise onto your tiptoes, moving him to face you. "I thought we were making progress here." "I don't need you to make progress in anything." He says, almost too quickly for you to believe him. Definitely too quickly for you to believe him, "You don't mean that." "I do. I do mean it, Y/N. Whatever was happening here, it can't continue. I know it must've been confusing, trust me–" You frown, cutting him off abruptly. "How can I? How can I trust you, when you've done all of this? You give me everything you've got, expressing nothing short of desire for me. You touch me in ways I haven't been since my first life, even by those I've slept with in the past. You kiss me like it means something and then you abandon me, you make me sleep alone like a dog and you don't speak to me. What twisted game are you playing? Is this the just and fair god you claim to be?"

Your anger bounces right off him, his cheeks flaming red as he sighs. 

"Y/N, this is a dangerous game. It's got nothing to do with you, or how I could or could not feel about you." His hands take yours off his face, holding your wrists tightly as if he needs them to ground him. Your eyes meet as your back hits the oak tree marking the end of the marigolds – you can see him holding back feelings of desire, and you're sure yours scream the same as the words slip from your lips.

"Then kiss me like you mean it." He groans, his grip on your wrists loosening as he pulls away. "You know I can't do that, Y/N. It's not right."

"Why? Because I'm some mortal? Because I'll never satisfy you?" You wrestle your wrists out of his grasp, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest. "Y/N–"

"Why won't you let me show you that you're just like me? Because you want to keep up this façade that you're perfect? Huh? Is that it?" You push his chest lightly, watching as the sky rolls with dark clouds in the distance and water begins to pelt the two of you. "Why won't you let me in?"

"Because." His jaw is tight as he turns away, and you grab his arm so he doesn't walk away from you, his shoulders tensing at your touch. "Because what, Seungkwan? Aren't you always spewing that you're a just and fair god? Aren't you always telling me that it's your job to guide? Well, I need some guidance here! Give me something to follow! Let me help you!" He huffs inwardly, turning back sharply and pulling you to him by your shirt, his other hand pushing your now wet hair out of your face. His eyes trail your face, and he speaks quietly.

"I can't, because you won't be here someday. I'll be left to yearn for you for the rest of my miserable eternity and I can't do that to myself. I could beg and plead with anybody who'll listen to let me have you forever, but I'd be disrupting the natural order of life. I can't kiss you, now or ever again, because you'll suffer. And I think you've had enough suffering for yet another lifetime."

Your brows furrow as you lean in closer to him, feeling his fingers quickly card through your hair and pull you back, your lips just missing his. Your eyes close at the tug, the way you know his rings will snag and you'll like it. 

"You can't tell me when I've had enough." You murmur, and he folds.

His lips slot against yours in a fiery kiss, pushing you against the tree and pulling a whimper from your throat as his teeth nip at your lips. You try to keep up, his hands choosing to roam your body, grabbing at any exposed skin they can before finding the slit of your skirt. His fingers circle your thighs carefully, bearing your weight against the rough trunk of the tree and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

"This is hard for me, too." He pulls away, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. "It doesn't have to be. Just let me in, I can help you." You plead with him, his shaky breath against your lips.

"I can't." His eyes close, his fingers tight around your thighs as your red skirt bunches higher. Your hands reach for his face again, thumbs carefully rubbing his cheeks as his eyes open to stare into yours. "Just trust me, Seungkwan." "It's not right, Y/N." He shakes his head, only for your words to come out with a bite. "You're selfish."

He huffs, nodding. "So what? I am, I am selfish. I can't imagine a fucking life without you tugging on my sleeve, is that what you want to hear? That I'd rather die an honest death than let you help me figure out something I should know on my own? I'm a god, for fuck's sake. I don't need your help, now or ever!"

"Then what the fuck are we doing? Why can't you just mentor me the way you were supposed to, huh? Why did you…" You trail off as you push him away from you, your lips pursed tightly as you fight off tears. Things are happening way too fast – but they started fast, anyway. Impatience usually makes things crumble like sand at your fingertips.

"Just…leave me alone. You don't need me, so I don't need you." You pinch the bridge of your nose, before pushing your wet hair off your face. "Don't walk away from me, we're not done here." His hand shoots out to wrap around your arm, his cool rings digging into your skin as you twist away from him. "Aren't we? You hurt me, Seungkwan. You're actively hurting me, by pushing me away. You don't care about anyone except yourself, because if you did, you would've never kissed me in the first place. You would've told Jeonghan no when he sent me here, you wouldn't have taken me in. You…you're selfish. You're selfish and you're a liar. And I hate that. I hate you!" You spit, angry tears streaming down your cheeks as you turn away from him.

"I'm not like you, Seungkwan. I can't just hide how I feel, not when I wear my heart on my sleeve. You can pretend all you'd like, fake it until you make it, do whatever you please." You mumble to yourself, sniffling deeply before meeting his eyes. Eyes that have glossed over with tears he won't dare let slip, but you only sigh.

"I deserve better than this." Your lip quivers as you push past him, the rain quickly drenching your top. You shiver as you walk away, wrapping your arms around yourself to create your own warmth as you hear a roll of thunder over your head. "I fucking heard you, Seungcheol. I got it." You mutter inwardly, feeling relief as the rain stops pelting your shoulders the moment you duck into the temple.

You silently walk to the bathroom, turning the faucet on for warm water to run out as you strip off your wet clothing. Your fingers fumble with the pins, holding them between your lips as you ease yourself into the filling tub, not bothering to grab for soap. You sigh as the warmth engulfs your limbs, shivering as you sink further.

Who were you kidding, really? You knew things between a god and a mortal weren't made to last. He'd said it, you'd agreed to it, you even admitted you'd rather die than become a goddess to live alongside a god who deems himself better than you. 

But, it doesn't mean you don't know that Seungkwan is far greater than you'd be, potentially ever. He held a power you'd never know anything about, this weight on his shoulders that he admitted himself to. You knew of gods who didn't care for their particular talents, gods who boasted nothing of their importance and gods who simply lacked interest in who or what they represented. You knew of gods who loved endlessly and deeply – Wonwoo and Mingyu. You knew of gods who admitted their wrongdoings – Jeonghan, Woozi, and Vernon.

You knew of gods who willingly did wrong, who willingly admitted it, who still searched and aimed for better – Seungcheol. If the god of the sky could openly spew his own faults, if the god of the sky could do as he pleases without so much as a second thought, why can't Seungkwan? Why can't you be the reason behind his loss of control, why can't he see you as something more than a mortal he's got to hold together? You're not broken, you're not ruined by anything but the way his skin feels against yours, his lips slotted perfectly into yours, him showing you that he wants nothing more but to melt into you and never stop being one.

So why suddenly switch up his act? Why stop kissing you when he's been all over you for longer than he hasn't, why pretend you're not someone he desires to hold near and dear to his heart when you both know that you were slowly, surely, chipping away at him? Because he'd be admitting imperfection.

And god forbid Boo Seungkwan admit he's not perfect.

You felt a sob in your throat, but pushed it down as you thumbed at the necklace he'd given you. Emerald, for growth. Scoffing to yourself, you peel it off, leaving it to dangle from the faucet handle as you turn away from it. The rain has stopped now, the sound of nature being overtaken by a few birds chirping in the trees and the occasional frog croaking beneath the windowsill.

The next three days were quieter than ever. 

You were locked in your bedroom, ignoring any of Seungkwan's attempts to speak to you. You let breakfast go uneaten, only sneaking out of your room when you'd see him hunched over in the garden from your window. You hid yourself away, opting to weave your fingers numb with the new yarn you hadn't used since you brought it home. 

He hadn't been home since last night, either. You didn't question anything, didn't care to. If he'd cared for you to know, he would have told you. After all, he is a just and fair god, is he not?

It's laughable.

All you could do was weave depictions of what you and Seungkwan could have been, or what you were. A large owl wearing an olive branch, a single spider perched carefully on the predator's shoulder. Unassuming, maybe hoping for the best despite expecting the worst from the bird. A twist of the neck, a bite off the head – and you'd be dead. "Would it be a painful death, at hands so soft?" You murmur to yourself, untangling the yarn from your fingers. The ocean blue was your background, the owl beige and brown with eyes of gold, the spider black with a single patch of gold on its chest. Representing what? Growth? A bruise of pain? A change of heart? You roll your shoulders back carefully, the soreness digging deep into your left cuff as you stretch. Sighing, you thread your fingers through the loom once more, your tired eyes drooping as you gingerly pull the yarn through. You felt alone, and yes, lonely alongside it all. You hadn't expected the god to weigh so heavily on you. You reminded yourself he chose that, though – he told you that he didn't need you. He doesn't need you to teach him anything. He doesn't need you at all.

Scoffing to yourself, you hear the creek of the window shutters behind you. You don't look over, only hearing the oh-so-familiar click of Jeonghan's boots on the marble tile. "Y/N." "Tsk, don't remind me that I've been a bad girl this time. Just tell me how I fucked up, yeah?" You respond with practised ease, not bothering to acknowledge him further. Jeonghan sighs, squatting next to your bent form in front of the loom. His fingers ghost over your hunched back, before they touch your skin. His fingertips are nothing like Seungkwan's – ice cold, even a bit callused. You move away.

"You never listen, do you?" He clicks his tongue, and you nibble at your lip without response. Shrugging, you try to act nonchalant when you feel his cold fingers swipe at your cheeks carefully. You look at him with a sigh, earning a pitiful look. "Don't pity me, Jeonghan." "I don't. I think you're an idiot, but I'd never pity you. You don't deserve that." He shrugs, before sighing. "Nice tapestry." "Thanks." You look at your fingers, when Jeonghan's hand moves to rest on your shoulder. "How's the shoulder doing? Still gets painful after you bury yourself in work?" He's referring to your constant whining of shoulder pain from the first time he met you. Something must've happened when you landed, because you'd been groaning about the pain for a few hours until he shoved you in front of a loom and asked you to weave it out – his way of asking you to shut the hell up. You'd woven something for him before he let you leave the Underworld, but like always – lost yourself in the task. You wove beautiful tales of fruit and love, and the tapestry hung proudly behind Jeonghan's throne. You hadn't seen it move since the second time you'd been dropped in.

"It's fine. Haven't had a chance to make myself a salve, Seungkwan won't let me fucking be. He's been gone for a night, though, so I might sneak out if he's not in upon nightfall." You mutter, thrumming your fingertips against the taut yarn. Jeonghan smiles, "Maybe you should let him make you the salve, Y/N. Let him take care of you." "I'd rather die than take his help." You scowl, crossing your arms with a wince of pain. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, resting his forehead against your bicep. "Darling, don't you think you're being too hard on him? You haven't spoken in three days." "He chose that. He basically told me I was just a game to him. How the fuck do you know that, anyway?" You move away from his touch again, only for the god's maroon eyes to swirl something dark. "Are we forgetting I assigned you here? I know everything that happens – every branch that snaps, every frog that croaks, every pretty little moan from that throat of yours. I see it all." "Creep." You stick your tongue out at him, making him stifle a grin. "He talks about you a lot when you're not in earshot. Mostly to himself, but you know." Jeonghan gestures to the air, insinuating he sees all, hears all. Every thought Seungkwan's had of you outside of his own head, Jeonghan knows about.

Meaning Seungcheol also probably knows about it.

You shrug again. "I don't care. He said what he said in front of me, and that negates anything he could've ever said behind my back. He kissed me, Jeonghan." 

"Didn't you beg him to?" He taunts, pinching your thigh playfully. You tongue your cheek, an embarrassed blush coating your skin as you nod. "I did…but I guess I got ahead of myself. No…god would ever fall in love with a mortal. Not the way a mortal would a god." Jeonghan's eyes widen at your words, taking your hands in his quickly. He squeezes them gently, "Don't say that." "Isn't it the truth? No god just falls in love with a mortal, Jeonghan. A god would be a fool to do that, even Mingyu did it by accident. He struck himself with an arrow, that love is nothing but purely coincidental. It's just held together by that, strings of coincidence." You scoff, and Jeonghan's brows furrow incredulously.

"Are you hearing yourself, darling? This isn't you." He shakes head at you, his bangs falling from the crown of Gladiolus flowers he wore religiously. You snort, tucking the stray hair under the petals quickly before sighing. "It's the truth, Jeonghan. Whether I want to believe it or not, whether I felt something for someone like Seungkwan at some point, it's the truth. It's not meant to be, so as soon as you say I can leave this place…I'm going." Your words pierce something within him, you can tell as he frowns deeply. His jaw ticks, as he mutters under his breath. You tilt your head at him, leaning closer, to hear the words spill from his lips. "You're the fool, Y/N." You frown inwardly, as Jeonghan groans in frustration. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. The two of you were on a good path. You were figuring things out, even if it was by exploring each other the way you chose to. You were intimate in ways Seungkwan hasn't been with anyone else before – he kissed you, he was letting you in. What happened?" Jeonghan paces in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked around. His lip tucked between his teeth as he nibbled lightly, your own voice tearing through the air as if to cut through any building tension.

"He just regrets it. It happens." You shrug, earning a scoff from the god in front of you. "Regrets it? Y/N, the guy was practically falling in love with you! You're smart, you're charming, you're the biggest brat I've ever met! How could he regret you, darling?" I don't know, you want to say. But a part of you doesn't want to know, either. Your eyes sting as you look away, but you close them only as you speak once more. "You're right, either way. I am the fool, Jeonghan, as are you." "Me!? I was trying to help you!" He balks, a look of incredulity in his eyes as a strong wind blows your shutters open. You jump in your seat, the tension in your shoulder making you groan as you dig your fingers into it carefully. "I know, and I appreciate it. It's just a shame it went to waste, I guess. He doesn't need me, and soon, I won't need him."

Jeonghan's jaw is tense as he stands upright, towering over you as you awkwardly adjust yourself on your stool. "Fine." "What?" You glance up at him, your hands now folded in your lap. "You can go. Whenever you're ready, you can leave the temple without another word." Jeonghan's words are anything but comforting, something you weren't used to from him. His eyes are darker than normal as he rubs at his temples, his tongue running over his lip as he sighs. "I expect you to return to Lydia and find Wonwoo. You'll room with him while you get back on your feet. I can get you an escort by tomorrow morning, if you choose to stay the night here. It smells like rain." Your brows raise at the phrase, something Jeonghan doesn't care to acknowledge. "I expect you to be on your best behavior, because we meant what we said, Y/N. No more second chances."

You blink at the god before you, who only shakes his head. "You can never say I didn't try."

Jeonghan ruffles the tendrils of your hair, carding his fingers through it before pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline. He sighs, "Good luck. You know where to find me." He spins on his heel, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble once more as he treks the room. "Finish that tapestry before you leave. It'd do you well to leave Seungkwan a parting gift."

You don't respond as Jeonghan hops out of the window, pulling the shutters closed as he lands on the ground. 

Was it really that easy? You just get to say you're done? It's never been that easy before. Jeonghan has never let you off the hook so smoothly, much less when it's something that benefits him just as much (if not more) than it benefits you. 

You turn back to the unfinished tapestry, the yarn now tangled at your feet. You bend at the waist to pick it up, feeling your shoulder tense up as you begin undoing the knots. Soon, it's all just strings of blue and beige and brown, and your eyes feel tired as you weave into gloomy sunset.

No rain yet.

"It's certainly a pleasure to see you, Seungkwan." The younger god squirms under Seungcheol's gaze, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. He rarely visited, and if he did, it was never without good reason. Like you, he too loved to do shit he wasn't supposed to. It often landed him here, whereas most mortals landed with Jeonghan – call it father-son privileges.

"Likewise." He replies curtly, clearing his throat as he lowers himself to the chair one of the angels has brought forth for him. He sits silently, with Seungcheol simply arching his brow at him in curiosity. "What brings you here? Trouble in paradise?" Seungkwan chokes as Seungcheol smiles into his teacup. "What?" "Before there was you, there was me." Seungcheol gestures at their surroundings with his bejeweled hands, setting the teacup down before him. "You've come to ask for redemption." "I have not!" Seungkwan scoffs as the servants place a plate of sliced fruit and warmed bread in front of him, the honey wand still inside his teacup as they slide it down. Seungkwan's ears burn in embarrassment as Seungcheol folds his hands, his eyes holding the same kind of mischief they've always shown. Seungkwan grimaces at the spread of food before him, his stomach churning at the idea of you sneaking out of your bedroom tonight as well, hoping he won't be in the kitchen as you steal bites of focaccia and cheese, pieces of salmon and lamb disappearing from the counter. Pieces he's left out for you, hoping you'll take them. Even if you don't accept the silent apology behind them.

"Being a god weighs on you heavier than I've ever seen before." Seungcheol speaks softly, earning a wistful look from Seungkwan. He doesn't respond, Seungcheol running his hand through his hair as he sighs. "You know I can't do anything for you up here, right?" "I was just hoping you'd give me some peace of mind." Seungkwan's eyes flutter closed, and Seungcheol scoffs out a soft, humorless laugh. "Me? Of all people?" "Believe it or not, I do admire your insane strength sometimes. I'm sure it'd drive me mad to be in charge of everything and everyone. I can barely handle one person." Seungkwan admits quietly, making the older man smile sadly. "I wasn't always like this." "I know." Seungkwan nods, his hand moving to take the honey wand out of his cup. "I think it was you who told me that I can't be good at everything right away. I have to learn my way." "And was I wrong? Have you not become better at things?" Seungcheol's voice holds a tilted tone, strong brows pointing Seungkwan in the direction of what's needed to be said. He sighs, nodding as he brings the teacup to his lips.

"Why does it come so easily to her?" He whispers against the porcelain, and Seungcheol only shakes his head. "What comes easily to her, comes easily to you. Both good and bad, but you both choose to focus on the things you don't have. You're human that way, you know." Seungkwan's brows raise as he looks up at the older god, who stirs a bit of cream into his tea. "I know I'm not a love expert. I've done it all – adultery, multiple wives, reverse harem at one point." Seungcheol clears his throat, cheeks tinging pink as he continues. "But I know a good woman when I see one. Y/N…she gets you. She fakes you out just enough, but never takes it too far. She knocks you down a few pegs, she makes you loosen up." "I do nothing for her." Seungkwan mumbles, holding the warm tea in his hands. It's only a few shades lighter than the first cup of tea you'd ever made for him. Seungcheol hums, "I'd argue that you do a lot for her. You feed her, bathe her, clothe her." "That's my job." The younger god tries to argue, but Seungcheol shakes his head with a smile. "Your job, Seungkwan, is to guide her. You let guilt take you down a path you would've never taken in the first place, but that guilt has begun to melt away into something much deeper. You peel her peaches. You add tomatoes to the focaccia when you hate tomatoes, you pour her wine, you fit her clothes. You hold her close and you've kissed her, Seungkwan. You've let her get further and deeper than anyone ever has."

Seungkwan sits in silence, feeling his eyes sting with tears as he looks away.

"You love her." Seungcheol whispers, making Seungkwan rest his elbows on the table, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shake lightly. Seungcheol reaches over, running his palm down Seungkwan's back with a gentle sigh. "You have to talk to her, Seungkwan. She figured you out faster than anyone has before. She unwrapped you from the day she got there." Seungkwan wipes at his eyes with frustration, letting a breath slip through his lips as he leans over the plate of food in front of him. He hopes you're eating something by now.

"You have to apologize, and admit your faults. You won't get through this life being so uptight about everything. They know we mess up, mortals are mortal, they're not dumb." Seungcheol rolls his eyes, earning a soft smack from Seungkwan. Wiping the younger's cheek, Seungcheol strokes the side of his head gently. "So you admit, you're looking for redemption?" Seungkwan struggles not to roll his eyes, before reluctantly nodding his head. "We can do that. Shall we?"

Seungkwan follows Seungcheol with his head low, hands clasped behind his back as the two of them make their way down the weaving halls of Seungcheol's paradise. One he'd built brick by brick, with the sweat off his brow and blood of his fingertips – housing over hundreds of gods.

Including Mingyu and his wife, Tzuyu.

Seungcheol knocks on the soft pink door, the gold knob twisting open to reveal a barely dressed Mingyu with hair stuck to his forehead. Seungcheol snorts as he pushes past, seeing Tzuyu sitting at their shared desk with a pile of books draped open in front of her. "No hello?" She calls, and Seungkwan watches as she turns in her seat.

Her outfit of a long gown and glittering sandals screams date night. Mingyu's lack thereof screams night in. A couple's quarrel, Seungkwan can tell, from the tick in her jaw and his sleepy eyes. The flowers from a few weeks ago sit in a jar, still teeming with life despite being brutally murdered by his shears.

"Hello. I've come to deliver something much more interesting than date night." Seungcheol wiggles his brows at the goddess, whose wings twitch with curiosity. "Seungkwan?" "Just trust me." The god of the sky pushes the younger one forward, and Tzuyu's eyes flash something wild as she looks over at her husband, who is now tugging a light beige chiton over his chiseled physique. "I've no reason to trust you, Seungcheol. But…I guess this is better than nothing." "Baby, I already said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you." Mingyu whines as his head gets stuck in the top of his shirt, making Seungkwan roll his eyes as he reaches over to help him. Mingyu's head pops out with a dazed look, before he shakes his head to regain his composure. The goddess before him frowns, but sighs in resignation. "What are we doing?" Seungcheol smiles, grabbing Seungkwan's shoulders and pushing him forward. "Loverboy here needs some guidance."

She quirks a brow in interest, her wings flickering behind her as she stands. The goddess flits around the duo, her manicured hands resting on her chin as her husband sits on her cushioned bench. "What are we guiding, exactly? And take your shoes off!" Seungcheol only smiles as Tzuyu forces Seungkwan to sit down, a worried look in the younger god's eyes as she hums. "This is about that pupil of yours, isn't it? Y/N, the mortal?" He nods silently, picking at his cuticles as Tzuyu gives the other gods a look of mirth. "Young love." She grins, before patting the god's shoulders. "I can fix you." "Don't. I'm fine like this." Seungkwan blurts, making Mingyu's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Can't be perfect all the time, can I?" He shivers as the words slip past his lips, and the surrounding gods only nod in agreement. "Well, let's get started." Tzuyu's voice breaks in once more, and Seungcheol steps back to allow her some more room. Seungkwan's eyes fill slightly with a bit of fear, but they close at Seungcheol's command.

Nothing but warmth can be felt around him, his chest tightening with the thought of you flooding his mind. So this is love.

It's well past nightfall as you massage your shoulder gently, your fingers not going nearly as deep as you need them to but the finished tapestry mocking you in the corner of the room. You groan in frustration, tears gathering in your waterline as you paw at yourself. You didn't manage to leave the room for dinner either, hearing Seungkwan (or…who you assumed to be Seungkwan) stumbling around in the kitchen. Truth be told, you're too much of a wimp to check. 

It didn't matter now, anyway. You'd agreed with yourself to leave the following morning, hoping for no rain. Your tapestry was large and completed, bold blues and soft beige catching the corner of your eye every way you turned. You situated your items into the bag that the yarn vendor gave you, including the blanket Seungkwan had purchased before the walk home. Your clothes were neatly rolled at the bottom, and one singular book of poems tucked under the red glitter sash you'd stolen from the god on your first few days here.

It's an odd feeling, imagining your life continuing without Seungkwan. No one to badger, no one to long for. Wonwoo would be around, but he was more your friend than anything else. Someone who took care of you as you did him, because that's what friends are for.

Jeonghan is just another god who gave you another chance. You've no friends outside the two of them, if you can even consider them to be friends. You don't know why you did it in the first place, but it makes you sick to admit that maybe, for the first time – Seungkwan's words of you not being perfect are starting to seep in deeper.

You hear a soft knock at your door, and you quickly wipe your face of any tears that would give you away as you sit up on your bed. You cross your legs over another, before clearing your throat, "Come in." Seungkwan's tired eyes peer in through the crack of the door, scanning you quickly. "Can we talk?" You don't really want to talk to him. You know that if you do, you might cry. Not that he wasn't good at making you do that anyway, but it's not like he cared. Who knows where they got 'compassionate' from, but you figure that a cruel goodbye is better than no goodbye. Nodding slowly, you watch as he slips into your bedroom, a shaky sigh from his lips as he looks at the silver tin in his hand, paired with wrapping sheets and a towel. His way of apologizing, you noticed, was this. Homemade things that would or could be of use to you, or something you might like. Like the linen he'd gotten you on your second day here with him.

"For your shoulder. It's…it's menthol and peppermint, and a little capsaicin for heat." He opens it, the muted orange salve glistening at you. You shrug, a wince crossing your face as your shoulder ticks with pain. He looks at you, and there's something in his eyes you don't recognize. You didn't really know Seungkwan, you were certain now – but his behavior seemed out of the ordinary.

"Thank you. I'd put it on, but…" You gesture at your clothing, and roll your eyes as your shoulder throbs. "You can just leave–" "I can do it for you, if you'd like." He speaks quickly, fumbling with the lid as you raise a brow at him. You recall the way he barked at you just days before, telling you he'd rather die than ever let a mortal like you help him in a time of need. The fury in his eyes when he said he didn't need you to teach him anything, and his subtle acknowledgement of that meaning he'd be depriving himself of you and your touch, your presence, your love – for the rest of your time on this Earth with him.

You click your tongue, but he rushes to sit on your bed, the wool mattress sinking below him. He adjusts himself to sit behind you, his inner thighs gently pressing against your hips. You don't say anything, simply reach for the pin that holds your top together and take it out, letting the soft cloth slip off your torso.

His hand moves your hair carefully, fingertips brushing your neck as he swoops it over. Your fingers hold it in place as you see the tin appear on his thigh, slender fingers taking a bit. "This'll be cold for a moment." The salve is cool as it touches your skin, the feeling against heat of your pained muscle making you jump. He lets out a muffled sound, his fingers softly working the salve into your skin. "Easy, don't move." He murmurs, feeling the heat of the capsaicin in his fingertips.

He's gentle and focused, and you remain rigid in front of him as thunder rolls ahead. Sighing at the sound, you peer over your injured shoulder. "Almost finished?" His eyes flicker to yours, lips pressed lightly together as he nods. You don't turn back around just yet, watching his face carefully as he continues. His free hand grabs a wrapping sheet, and he presses it firmly to your skin. 

"So it won't get on your clothes." He murmurs, and you nod, before facing out the window again. The clouds are rolling in, and you see a singular lightning bolt light up the sky. You wonder what Seungcheol could be doing now.

He wipes his fingers on a towel, tossing it into the empty dirty clothing basket behind you. Capping the tin, he uses his other hand to move your hair back. He slides the tin onto your night table, before grabbing the pin for your shirt and moving his hands to your front, gathering the fabric in his fingers and pulling it up, his knuckles lightly grazing your bare breasts. You don't react.

Neither does he.

He carefully pins your shirt back into place, adjusting the neck so it's a little loose. He doesn't move, so you speak up. "All done?"

Nothing. You feel his fingers card through your curls gently, tugging slightly. Maybe reminiscing how it felt in his hand when he kissed you in his garden for the first time. It had been just about to rain that day, too…and it did. It poured like a motherfucker. His fingers stop, instead ghosting over the slope of your neck and along the naked skin of your uninjured shoulder. He shifts behind you, and you feel his hand drop from your skin, instead feeling his forehead pressed against your body. His hair tickles, and you sigh.

"What are you doing, Seungkwan?" Your voice is gentle, it's tired. It's confused, as he breathes against you, his arms circling your torso and pulling you closer to him. Your back hits his chest, and you feel his warm lips caress your skin, heat surging your cheeks as he presses them into you. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm sorry."

You tense, his hands clutching the cloth of your shirt for dear life. "What?"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, peering up at you with the most sorrowful eyes you'd ever seen on a man, much less a god. They're glazed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

Here he was. The same god who insisted he'd never admit to anything, any wrong doings, especially not to a mortal. The same god who looked down on you for being so irrevocably human, the same god who watched as you did the most mundane things and wondered aloud if you needed to do those things – and insisted they were weird to him.

"You're…sorry." You repeat, and he nods slowly.

"I've been horrible to you. From the beginning, I was cold and I was indifferent and I should've welcomed you with open arms because that is what a just god would do." His voice is shaky, "I don't want to make you feel like…you're not important to me. You're so important to me and I don't want to live a life where I know I can't find my way back to you, where I have to look for you in every person I try to fill the void shaped by you."

You're silent, and he takes it as a sign to keep going.

"I need to wake up in the mornings not knowing where I start and where you end. I need to know you're not gone from my life forever if I ever wake up alone, but somewhere in this place I call home, a place I need you to call home."

A singular tear rolls down his cheek, meeting your shoulder as you keep staring.

"I need you. I'm sorry I haven't been making it seem that way, I'm sorry I lied about it. I'm sorry that I couldn't admit that I was afraid I wouldn't be enough for you. I feared that your prophecies would ring with truth and you'd leave me behind." He confesses this all in nothing higher than a whisper, tears continuing to roll down his face as he presses his cheek to your skin. You feel your chest ache something awful, before looking away. "I told Jeonghan I'd leave for Lydia in the morning. I'm going to be staying with Wonwoo." You lie easily when you're not facing him, but the weight of it all hangs heavy on your shoulders as he peers over you. "You're leaving?" The silence is deafening as you nod your head, moving away slightly from his hold. His hands fall flat against his thighs, fingers squeezing them as though to ground himself. He shifts behind you, a soft apology tumbling from his lips as he moves to climb off your bed – but you place your hand on his knee, instinctively. You sigh, patting it gently as you twist to look at him. "I'd rather a nice goodbye, Seungkwan. I don't want you to be…this. Sad, I assume." "Then don't leave." He whispers, his hands reaching for your waist. He caresses the sliver of skin softly, "Don't leave me here to miss you." "You left me, first." You shake your head, but his hands only grip onto you tighter. "And I want to prove that I deserve you, that I need you to stay. Please, please don't go." "I don't know if I can trust you to do that, Seungkwan. You…I…" You trail off as he nudges you with his nose, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. 

"I know I don't deserve it, I don't deserve a chance to show you that I am deeply, irrevocably in love with you. I am truly just a man at your disposal. Please don't leave me, not now. Not ever." Your cheeks burn as he presses a chaste kiss to the lobe of your ear. His fingertips move to brush the tops of your knees, exposed by the way your skirt bunches around your thighs. You push down a shiver as he palms at your skin. "I can't get you out of my mind. Every waking moment I have is consumed by you, it's killing me inside. I can't sleep without you in my bed, I don't feel full if we're not eating together. I don't feel satisfied." "That only proves that you're a man. Because you're selfish, to the depth of you. You're a selfish, careless man who hurts people who love you." Your voice is thick with tears, an accusatory finger to his chest as you turn to face him fully. He smiles sadly, before nodding as his hand floats to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. 

"I am. I'm so insanely selfish and I only want you. I could go the rest of my life without my wisdom, my wealth, anything I could ever conjure up with all the words I know." He sighs, his knuckles pinching the fat of your cheek gently. You frown, pushing his hand away, only for his fingers to interlace with yours and pull your hand to his chest. "But you? Angel." You huff, your nose burning as you swallow your tears. "You don't get to just apologize and then we move on, Seungkwan. That's not how that works, that's not life." "Isn't it? Should I grovel at your feet? I'll do it. I'll do anything you ask of me, if it means you stay." He holds your hand tightly, rings digging into your skin as he scans your face. "I miss you, Y/N."

You close your eyes, a soft sob escaping your throat as he pulls your face to his chest. "I'm sorry, my angel. I know I've hurt you. I will never forgive myself if I let you out of my life knowing you don't see yourself how I do." You cry softly into the soft material of his chiton, his voice hushed as he rains gentle praises over the crown of your head, his lips pressing kisses gently against it. His fingers tangle in your hair, carefully undoing the knots like the day you arrived, his fingernails scraping at your skin with precision. You feel his thumb pad at your under eye, pushing your face back to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Let me prove myself to you. You can leave, if I'm not enough. I won't stop you, then and only then." His eyes hold hope as they meet yours, a shaky sigh from your lips as you look away. "What if you're not?" "Then I'll suffer. I'll suffer for the rest of eternity and I'll deal with it, I've made this bed. I'll lay in it." He holds your face carefully, before you stand from his hold. His hands fall to your hips, eyes looking up at you expectantly as you nibble on your lip. "What made you change your mind?"

He doesn't respond, only pushing you back slightly to stand before you. His hands squeeze you with anxiety, "Kissing you for the first time made me feel like I was on fire. It took everything in me not to give myself to you entirely that night. I can't lose control like that, it's terrifying." "Show me. Show me how much you care." You murmur, your fingers clutch at his shirt, "Trust me, Seungkwan." His lips are on yours before another word can slip out. It's messy, it's desperate, it screams I missed you. His arms move to embrace you fully, pulling your body to his as one of his hands snakes up to the nape of your neck. Clashes of teeth and tongue as he spins the two of you around, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as he pushes you back onto it. You peer up at him, watching the way his eyes take you in slowly.

"You're so beautiful." He murmurs, sinking to his knees on the floor. You feel his hands wrap around your ankles, and you brace yourself for him to pull you towards him – only to feel his lips pepper chaste kisses to the skin of your foot. You glance down at him, his eyes closed as he trails his lips and tongue up your calf, sinking his teeth into the soft muscle as you jerk. "Hated seeing his hands all over you. I'm still not over that." "That was over a week ago." You remind him with a soft breath, earning a scoff. "Should've never touched you in the first place. I'll fix it." He shrugs, continuing his ministrations down your plush thighs, nipping and licking with precision as your body jolts against him. He rests his cheek against your inner thigh, arms pulling you closer to his face. "Can't believe I went without you for so long. I'm sorry, my angel." He speaks to himself, bunching your skirt at your hips when you sheepishly reach for the corner, untugging it from its tucked place and tossing it over the side of the bed. 

Your thighs are spread before him, your cunt glistening with your arousal as he sighs shakily, inhaling deeply with a chaste kiss to your clit. It's almost torture, how his tongue fluidly glides through your folds like he was made to please you, to devour you in one go and enjoy it so lavishly. His eyes remain closed as he holds your hips to his face, sucking languidly at your clit as you bite back your moans, your hand holding onto his hair. 

"Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you." He whines, almost unable to detach himself from your sloppy cunt to speak. It's muffled as you pull on his hair, a moan from his throat vibrating against you making it all the more stimulating for your poor mind. 

"Missed you. Missed you so fucking much, my gorgeous girl." He keeps talking into your skin, lips coated in your slick as he buries his tongue impossibly deeper, rings digging into the supple flesh of your ass as you cant against his mouth, chasing the feeling of the end.

Your legs threaten to snap shut around his head as you sob out his name quietly, his hand finding yours and squeezing it as your orgasm seeps through you, coating his lips and tongue messily. "That's it, angel. Fuck, look at that, hm? So pretty for me. Just for me." "S'too m-much–" You gasp as your hips betray you, chasing after his tongue as he smiles into your skin. "Oh, but there's so much more to love, angel. You'll let me, right? You'll let me show you how much I love you, won't you?" "W-want you inside," You pout as he hovers over you, nimble fingers pulling at the pins holding your top shut. "We'll get there, I promise. I just want to kiss you right now." He pulls at the fabric, the white wrapping sheet stark against your skin as he gently removes the top you've wrapped around yourself.

"Kiss you…bite you…worship you. All for me, my girl. My angel." Seungkwan's voice is hushed against your stomach, his teeth biting at any skin you'll allow. Red marks bloom almost instantly as he whispers sweet nothings, his hands carefully holding you hostage against his warm body. "Seungkwan." You groan impatiently, feeling the rut of his hips between yours, a choked moan from his throat as his lips trail up your chest, tongue darting out to land a teasing lick to your pebbled nipple.

"Seungkwan." You sigh, his hand now pinning your unwrapped arm above your head. His tongue laps at your chest like a man starved, your head now nestled between the pillows. You can't move from his grasp, only squirming beneath him before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against your core. "Fuck me already." You wrestle your arm out of his grip, interlacing your fingers as his nose brushes yours.

"I'm nervous." He admits quietly, his eyes scouring your face for any chance of laughter. Something to humiliate him with, something to dangle over his head. Your cheeks flush softly, running your fingers through his hair as you pull him down for a kiss. "Let me help you." "Y/N–" "Please. Trust me." Your lips hardly disconnect from his, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you use your weight to flip him onto his back. He sighs as your lips drag down his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as you tug his earlobe through your teeth.

"Always so tense, hm? Just let go." You murmur, feeling his cock brush against your core. You zero in on his skin, carefully tugging his shirt over his head and reconnecting your lips. Your tongue slips through his lips, licking at his own as his hands hold your hips tightly, scared to let you go. You sigh against his lips as your hips begin to rut against him, feeling his jaw slack at the friction. "Don't worry about anything. I've got you, I promise."

He only nods in response, your hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. "Don't tease me, please." He shudders at your touch, his hips bucking into the warmth of your hand as you coo at him. "I won't, gotta get these off."

You tug his pants down quickly, his leaking cock painfully hard in your hand. He whimpers against you, eyes screwed shut as you press your thumb against his tip lightly, a gasp of please falling from his bitten lips. You throw his pants over the edge of the bed, quickly readjusting yourself over his lap as his hands find your thighs.

"Be gentle." He mumbles, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes as he remains vulnerable, your hands stroking his face softly as you kiss his nose. "I'll take good care of you, okay? We've got the rest of our lives." If you feel the jolt in his chest at your words, you say nothing. You only rock against his hard length carefully, slowly sinking down. You stop as his hands squeeze your thighs with vigor, choked whimpers from his throat as you carefully grind into his lap. "Good?" "S-so good, angel. Fuck," A few tears spill from his eyes, your lips quickly kissing them away as you sink further down, the muscled flesh of his thighs flat against your ass. "Want you to see me, Kwannie. Please." You kiss around his face, his eyes peeling open to reveal absolute floodgates of adoration.

"I love you. Please, please don't leave me." He sobs softly, making you smile against his skin. "Shh. Let me show you, yeah?" You carefully begin a rhythm, his cock stretching you just right, dragging perfectly against your gummy walls. Your noises are caught in your throat, mutters of you feel so good, oh my God…from your lips making his fingers grab at your hips tightly. His eyes are glued to your face, the way your lip is caught between your teeth as you try to hold back. Your fingers are digging into his shoulders as you feel his hands move to your breasts, carefully rolling your nipples through the pads of his fingers as you whimper.

"So beautiful." You call softly, entranced at the movement of your hips and the warmth of his hands on you, his own sight lost at the feeling of you so tight and wet and all for him. "Wanted you for so long, angel. Can never get you off my mind." He whines at your quickening movements, your hands holding his against your chest as your soft sounds fill his ears.

"Want you forever." You whisper, clenching around his length at the guttural moan from his lips. He flushes in embarrassment as you lean to speak in his ear, the wet sounds between you only making everything feel heavier. "Want you only, Seungkwan. Forever."

"I'll be better. I promise, angel, I'll be the best man I can." He nods frantically as you clench around him, a shaky moan from your lips as his thumb snakes between your legs, tracing circles onto your clit as your thighs tremble. "Want you all to myself, please. Please let me have you." You nod nervously, your fingers shaking as you sigh, your orgasm building quickly in your lower belly. "I'll give you everything, for you in return. Promise me. Tell me you're mine just as I am yours." "I promise, angel." He ruts his hips up into yours, matching your pace gently as he brings your face lower, your lips brushing barely as he speaks. "For as long as I live, I promise I'll be nothing but yours. My dying days, my worst moments, I'm yours."

Your lips connect messily, the kiss nothing but bumping of teeth as you come undone around him with a low whine, feeling his skin stick to yours. The flutter of your walls is overwhelming him, high-pitched whimpers from his throat, "B-Baby–" "I know, I know. Please, make me yours." You sob against his lips, your hips desperately canting against his as his cries hit your ears, feeling his cock twitch inside you before he finally lets go. He shudders, pulling you impossibly closer in a bruising kiss.

His hand loosely circles your neck as he holds you close, lips moving in sloppy tandem with yours as he lazily thrusts into you through his orgasm. Ignoring your soft cries of overstimulation, only whispering be mine, please against your spit-covered lips as you shake slightly in his arms.

You force yourself away from him on trembling arms, your thighs locking his hips down as he chases after your mouth. You muster a stern look, your eyes examining the vulnerable god before you — with parted splotchy lips and cheeks, teary eyes glazed over with post-orgasm sleepiness. Brows scrunched at the middle, your thumb instinctively reaching to pad out the wrinkle.

“You think way too much.” You mutter, watching his eyes go wide as his mouth begins to open to speak. You place your hand over his lips, sighing before you speak. “You think entirely too much for one person. You’re a selfish brat, you’re carrying way too much on your shoulders. You can’t save everyone, Seungkwan. Who saves you, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinking up at you quietly. You give him a pointed look, making him look at your chest in defeat. His brows raise, before looking back at your eyes. “You do.”

It’s muffled, but earns a tired laugh from you anyway. “You know I can’t, right? I’m not like you.”

He tugs your hand away from his face, voice hoarse as he tries to sit up gently. He only makes it to his elbows, his fingertips brushing your knees innocently. “Goddess or not, the power you have over me is unfathomable.”

“Big words already? Already back in your head, huh?” You teasingly tap his temple, and he huffs embarrassedly. “You drive me fucking crazy, alright? Up the wall insane. Is that good enough?”

You only smile down at him, your hand cupping his face gently as you pinch his cheek. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

“Love me.” He blurts. “Love me until you can’t anymore. Please, have that mercy upon me.”

“It won’t be easy. This…you and me.” You admit, sighing as your hands splayed across his chest. “You have to give me all of you, not just what you deem fit for my consumption. I’m a mortal, I’m not weak or dazed or whatever you may think of me. I don't care about what you are, god or mortal.”

“I don’t think that of you at all, angel.” He shakes his head quickly, but you just run your hand through his hair to stop him. "We'll get there, okay? I just…I don't know how to do this. The relationship thing, I've spent so long being a pain in Jeonghan's ass."

You earn a snort from him, his fingers tracing light circles into your knee as he shrugs in defeat. "I don't, either. There's a lot of things I don't know how to do, but I'm not worried if I'm learning next to you." He speaks softly, and you roll your eyes. "You're a sap." "You'll stay, right?" His eyes search your face with care, heart picking up its gentle pace in his chest as you smile down at him, pressing your lips to his forehead with a sigh. "Wouldn't dream of leaving."

The two of you jump at the sound of thunder rumbling, your hand flying to your chest as the shutters flew open. Seungkwan steadies you atop him, wincing at the reminder that he'd still sheathed inside you. He doesn't make an effort to move you off, only mumbling. "We're sticky." You snort, "Wanna get stickier?"

EPILOGUE.

Opening his heart to you only opened an unlimited number of doors for Seungkwan.

He noticed more about you — particularly, the way you loved him. Your fingers easily picked the cherry tomatoes off his pieces of focaccia before handing it over, your hands bared the heat of his hot tea as you stirred it. You whispered dirty words in his ears to fluster him, your hands snaking around his body without hesitation. Every surface in your shared home was christened with you in whatever position imaginable, crumbled whines of how much you loved him falling from your lips as he worked tirelessly to please you.

He noticed the way you’d silently take the lead if something became too overwhelming for him, something he’d yet to figure out on his own. You’d take shears from his hands in the garden, you’d put a pretty spring of lavender over his ear at the slightest sound of a discouraged grunt. You’d kiss his temple, his cheek, his nose, lips with such gentle fervor, he’d feel himself melt away.

Much like he is in this moment, seeing you holding a skewer with candied orange slices. Your lips are slightly coated in sugar crystals, your hand growing weak from gripping the thin stick so tightly. He walks over silently, his fingers prying it from your grasp as you stop talking to Mingyu to acknowledge him with a gentle smile.

“I’ve got it.”

He only takes the skewer, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got you. Just let me.”

“This is a beautiful look on you, Seungkwan. So young and in love.” Mingyu’s voice is full of teasing, earning a scowl from the younger god — one that gets pinched away by your fingers on his cheek. “Stop that.”

Seungkwan’s eyes fall to you, your relaxed shoulders surrounded by everyone you’ve only ever heard of — and stories you’ve only told, never known. You’re covered by the tapestry you’d made for him, the large owl on display across your back as a matching blue hood covers your hair carefully. You’d been far too proud of it to only display it in the temple — and you’d been right to do so, you’d only received compliments since, from gods and mortals alike.

Your posture only proved how little everyone's power affected you. You cared nothing of their advantages, their own hubris, nothing – you spoke to everyone the same way. You smiled mischievously, you nibbled on the inside of your cheek when deep in thought. You nodded along to deeper stories of woe and war, and held your wine glass close to your chest when offered more.

Your eyes would look for him in the crowds of gods, looking for the bright green wreath he donned regularly amongst his peers. He'd meet them every so often, a soft look of concern on his face as you simply smiled and turned back to your conversation. You'd find him for comfort, for strength, for someone to hold your drink if your wrist got tired. You stood in front of everyone with a brave smile, but he knew that deep down, you'd be once more leaving everything you'd known life to be – this time, for him. To be by his side, as an eternal being he can love and worship and tend to. A goddess of his very own, one that no one has to understand but him – and he selfishly hopes no one ever does decipher the intricate ways of your heart, the weaves of your fingers and stories of your mind.

So sure, it might not be the best thing ever. It might be an admittance of imperfection, it might be lack of common sense for a god so skilled to fall straight into the sticky web of a lying, deceiving mortal. A mortal who has pushed and pulled him back and forth, a mortal who has shown him pure and unadulterated appreciation despite knowing that their past is one of the rockiest starts to a love story ever possibly written. A mortal who is now knelt before his fellow gods, Seungcheol's hand hovering over your head as he gently allows yet another disturbance of natural order – yet another mortal, who fell for a god, and a god who lost his first fight to love.

"Hey." You murmur, weaving through a few people to reach him. He looks up, eyes wide as you untuck your hair from the cloak. In your hand is the singular crown of marigolds Seungcheol had given you, something that Seungkwan brought forth when you made the trip to see the god of the sky. Seungcheol welcomed you into his home with a warm smile, giving Seungkwan a wink as the two of you left everyone in awe.

"Hey, you." He nods, setting down his glass of wine on the bar. Your candied orange is still in his other hand, and you happily take it back, sinking your teeth into the crumbly sugar. "Drinking all by yourself, handsome?" "You don't have to keep flirting with me, you know. I'm already a mess." He rolls his eyes, but you only coo at the tinge of pink in his ears. "But I do, my love. It keeps our love alive." You gesture methodically to the air around you, making him laugh.

"How are you feeling? I don't know the mortal-to-goddess route." He snakes his arms around your waist, earning a whistle from Mingyu across the room. He childishly sticks his tongue out at him, making you smile. "Mmh. I feel the same, I think. Just a little bit of pressure." "Comes with the job, I fear." He nods, plucking the marigold crown from your fingers. "You need to wear this, pretty." He jostles it gently, blooming the petals further with his fingertips. You bow your head slightly, and he places it carefully atop your hair.

"I love you." He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of your hair over your ear. You only smile in return, pressing a sugary kiss to the side of his lips. "As endlessly as I love you?" "Probably more. I would die without you." He nods quickly, pressing his lips to your cheek. "Can't have that, can we?"

So much for unforgiven.

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