diamond-reads

[diamond-reads]

🌌 minghao x art director!reader.

you're back in minghao's orbit for the third time. he's done letting you slip through his fingers.

✩ feelings realization, confessions, mandarin courtesy of google translate, just one big ode to the man that is xu minghao. partly inspired by the legendary minghao fansign. more content under the cut. ✉︎ user xinganhao writing after stardust? likely place for them to be. stream orbit (轨道)!

Orbit (轨道)

it's almost laughable, how obvious minghao is being. at least he thinks he's being obvious. he's literally crooning about wanting you, about missing you, about running to you. and you're there, off by the side, barking silent orders to the production team on what to do with the set. damn it. he's 26 years old, and one line in the song says it best: longing is the soundtrack to this film. how else to explain this years-long affection that he's harbored, this feeling that has only grown every time the two of you cross paths? a foolish part of him hopes that it might end here. that with this music video, he might finally be able to move on, let go. only— on the first day of filming, you wordlessly pass him a bottle of water after a particularly rigorous dance break. he mumbles his thanks and shoots it back in one go. "easy," you say with a chuckle. for a moment, neither of you speak. and then, your voice goes uncharacteristically soft. like you're telling him a secret. "proud of you, eisa." it feels like a shock to his system. he's grateful you didn't say those words while he was drinking; he might've spit out his water. "don't," he croaks, and you only laugh a little more. don't do this to me. not now, not here, he's pleading. you cut him some slack by wandering off to go terrorize some intern. he watches and watches and watches you leave. he decides, then, that maybe he can give himself one more day. just one more day of wanting you shouldn't hurt.

海城 (Hai Cheng)

minghao is 24 years old, and yet you're manhandling him like he's a teenager. it goes without saying that he could simply push you off, could easily dig his feet into the sand and keep the two of you from moving. but you're one of the few people who can get him to do anything, and the staff have learned to abuse that little chink in his armor. still, he's not one to go down with a fight. he heaves out a dramatic sigh as you position him somewhere you claim to be the perfect spot. "this is going to be exactly the same as the last four takes," he complains. "it's not," you insist, and he fights back a smile. the drone flies up. minghao stays absolutely still as per your request. he kills the time by staring at you in the distance. it's a tremendous grace that you're off-camera, that the shot is not about to capture the look on his face. when everybody goes to crowd around the playback, it's the scene. minghao by the shore, the crystal waves crashing into him after he's danced around them the entire video. "see?" you prod, your hand resting on the small of his back. it's a friendly, harmless touch, but minghao still feels like some sort of metaphorical wave has washed over him, threatening to drown him. "yeah," he manages. "it's definitely different this time."

나란히 (Side By Side)

"they're your age, you know." minghao looks up from his lyric sheet. his eyes land on you— the fresh-faced associate art director. you move with purpose, with intention. he recognizes it instantly: the restless itch to prove oneself. "that's nice," he says absentmindedly, for the lack of better thing to say. his manager doesn't hold it against him. everybody presumes that he's nervous and on edge for his first proper music video. he's... alright, really. more excited than anything. it's another one of those things he can't really put into words, not until you come up to introduce yourself to him. "i'm honored to work with you, eisa," you say, your hand thrust out and your eyes sparkling. several things strike minghao at once. your choice of word— 'honored', you say. a complete contrast to your informal usage of the nickname eisa. not the8, not minghao, not myungho. your starry-eyed look. your calloused palm that shakes his own a little too firmly. minghao is 23 years old. he's a smart man, a rational man. he doesn't believe in love at first sight. but he supposes there are some exceptions.

我爱你. wǒ ài nǐ.

[diamond-reads]

🎸 vernon dates rockstar!reader. (4)

vernon x rockstar!reader who's a foreigner in an international rock band (4) a.k.a the one about fighting ➤ see also: series masterlist

‧₊˚✩彡 includes: international rockstar!reader, f!reader, long distance/established/newly-public relationship, pet names, fluff, angst, one (1) suggestive joke, best read in order + headcanons under the cut. rollercoaster ahead!

fight (v.), endeavor vigorously to win.

i.e. Vernon has fought to get to where he is. He clawed his way through his trainee days. He worked his ass off during their debut. Even now, even as SEVENTEEN reaches meteoric heights, he's still working tooth and nail to deserve every minute of fame that he's been vouchsafed. He does it for his family. He does it for the group. And, as of more recent times, he does it for you, too. You're equally as driven with just as much on the line. You have a band to herald, a completely different scene to navigate. You're passionate, and determined, and Vernon loves you for it. He does. It's why he's still so steadfast himself— how can he not be? When he turns to you, he sees a future. And it's a future he wants to be part of, so he'll be damned if he doesn't work to deserve it.

fight (v.), attempt to repress (a feeling or an expression of a feeling).

i.e. Vernon has always been in control of his emotions, but he finds himself battling them a lot more often nowadays. He fights down the urge to defend your honor at any given turn. He fights down tears when the two of you argue. He fights his insecurities the most; all those the terrible thoughts that threaten to drag him under. They come for him at night, when he's lying in bed and trying to get some sleep for tomorrow's schedule. It's always a vicious, quiet whisper in the back of his head. You're not enough or she'll want something more or this isn't going to work out. The thoughts run marathons across him mind, leaving him breathless and winded without him even moving a muscle. But then you'll send a text, or you'll ring his cell, and the heavy feeling in his chest eases up. Just a bit. Just enough for him to shoot back a reply and trust that he'll have you for one more day.

fight (v.), move forward with difficulty.

i.e. More often than not, it's a war of attrition. It's Vernon and you versus the fans. It's Vernon and you versus the press. It's Vernon and you versus his company, your label. He likes to think it's never him versus you or vice versa. That the two of you are always going to root for each other, no matter what battle you're in. He fights past all the baseless fan theories and stupid gossip columns. He fights the company's stricter rules, your label's disapproving stance. Vernon is still perfectly polite— as much as he can manage to be, anyway— but he has also made it abundantly clear. Vernon will go down fighting if it's for you.

fight (n.), the inclination or ability to fight or struggle.

i.e. There are some days where Vernon is worried that he doesn't have any fight left in him. His job is demanding. Yours, equally so. And the added layer of your relationship being under constant scrutiny is a strain, a thorn in your side. A curse more than it is a blessing, really. On the days where it feels a little too much, Vernon will sit down and write. He prefers doing this on paper and pen but his phone's Notes app will do when he's in a pinch. In it, he writes three reasons why he loves you. It all begins with I love you because... I love you because you sing like an angel. I love you because you get along with my parents. I love you because of the way that you laugh. Call it a reminder. Call it a boost. Whatever it is, Vernon hasn't run out of it, years into dating you. It is a never-ending list that gives him the courage to square his shoulders, to dig down deep and find that fight. That all-encompassing reason that boils down to I love you, I love you, I love you.

fight (n.), a vigorous struggle or campaign for or against something.

i.e. Any relationship has to be fought for. But it's not something that can be done alone, not something that Vernon can singlehandedly accomplish. He can protect and persevere all he wants, but if he's the only one still in this, then what's the point? That, to this day, is his biggest fear. When the smoke clears, when all is said and done— Will you still be fighting with him? Will you still be fighting for him?

[diamond-reads]

listen here kae you are so evil for doing this to my wellbeing i am, as you so aptly put it:

kaeeeee loml what if i asked u for jeonghan + what? me? jealous? never.

ⵌ lawyer!jeonghan x lawyer!reader. ⵌ word count: 1,100~ ⵌ notes: alternate universe: office. hi, my light! do you remember saying "workplace rival yoon jeonghan that has the same academic validation kink as you"? because i do 😃 and here's a taste of it!

The firm's war room is alive with energy.

The partners are gathered, a sea of pinstriped authority, waiting to devour the presentations. You sit near the end of the long table, fiddling with the corner of your folder, pretending not to notice Yoon Jeonghan lounging next to you like he owns the place.

He doesn't, of course. Not yet. But the way he leans back in his chair, perfectly pressed suit catching the overhead light, gives off the impression that he thinks it's only a matter of time.

No matter how many late nights you put in, how thoroughly you prepped for cases, Jeonghan always seemed to glide in a hair's breadth ahead of you. Case won? Jeonghan had also just triumphed with an even bigger client. Article published? His had gone live the same day in a journal with more prestige.

It wasn't enough to be good. He always had to be better than you specifically, and he didn't even try to hide it. It's a game of chess that Jeonghan wins more often than not, much to your sheer annoyance.

"You look nervous," he drawls as one of the interns goes to set up the projector. His voice is low enough that only you hear.

"I'm not," you reply in a harsh whisper.

Jeonghan smirks, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve. "Good. I'd hate for you to trip up before I get the chance to one-up you."

"Keep dreaming."

The partners call for the first presenter, and Jeonghan is on his feet in a single fluid motion. He glances down at you, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

"Watch and learn," he murmurs before strolling to the front of the room.

You hate how good he looks up there. Hate how effortlessly he commands attention, his voice smooth and confident as he outlines his wins from the last quarter. He's all charisma and sharp angles, throwing in just enough technical jargon to prove he's more than a pretty face.

And the worst part? The partners eat it up.

When he finishes, the room breaks into polite applause. Jeonghan returns to his seat, pausing beside you. "Your turn," he says with mock encouragement.

You rise, spine straight, and walk to the front of the room. The folder in your hand feels heavier than it should, but you don't let it show. Your voice is steady as you present, every word precise, every statistic delivered with razor-sharp clarity. You see the partners nodding, their eyes fixed on you, and for a moment, it feels like victory is within reach.

Then you glance at Jeonghan.

He's watching you, his chin resting on his hand, a small, unreadable smile playing on his lips. It's distracting enough to make you stumble over your next sentence— not enough for anyone else to notice, but you know that he does. You know that he's going to give you grief over it, too.

When you finish, the partners offer their feedback, but their words blur together. You return to your seat, hyper-aware of Jeonghan beside you.

He leans closer, his cologne faint but maddeningly present. It's a scent you wouldn't expect on a man as cutthroat as Jeonghan: Something fresh and soothing, with notes of cedant and clementine. Who knew that your rival was into more floral fragrances?

"Tripped up a bit there," he teases lowly. "Losing your edge, darling?"

You don't dignify his taunt with a response. You keep your eyes fixed on the partners in front of you two, knowing that nothing would vex Jeonghan more than being ignored.

Sure enough, you can hear the derisive snort that he lets out when you don't even look his way. His chair squeaks as he leans back, leaving you alone for the time being. A corner of your lip twitches upward. Checkmate.

The meeting goes on without much fanfare. The partners promise results in a day or two, which typically means dole outs of the best clients and cases. The real reward, though, are the whispers.

The grumblings about who might be the next partner. Which associate— between Jeonghan and you— might someday ascend.

As people begin to file out of the war room, a couple of people go up to congratulate the two of you. It's a well-practiced charade, how both of you offer tight-lipped smiles and curt nods in response. It's a shark-infested field; you and Jeonghan know that no one can be trusted.

But then one of the partners— Atty. Sy, perhaps the most senior person in the room— ambles towards the two of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Jeonghan squares his shoulders.

Atty. Sy pauses. And then—

"Good," he says simply, his eyes trained on you.

It's just one word, barely praise, but it feels like a win handed on a silver platter. You fold into a bow, partly because it's the polite thing to do, and partly because you're trying to hide the shit-eating grin threatening to take over your face.

"Thank you, sir," you answer.

Atty. Sy doesn't say anything to Jeonghan. That's an entirely different win in itself, one that you revel in as you straighten back to your full height.

Jeonghan's expression is perfectly neutral, but you've worked with him for long enough to know the telltale signs of him fraying at the edges. The muscle jumping in his jaw. The murderous flare in his gaze. It's how he looks like when he's facing a particularly difficult client in court, when he's raring for a fight.

God, you wish you could take a picture. It would be so nice to frame this moment in time, to have a tangible reminder of how you one-upped the man, the myth, the legend when it truly mattered.

Jeonghan catches the hint of a smirk on your face.

"I'm not jealous," he says immediately, defensively.

You raise your eyebrows inquisitively. It's an almost innocent look, as if you're wordlessly communicating I haven't said anything.

Jeonghan barrels on, his nerves— for once— getting the better of him. "What? Me, jealous? Never!" he huffs, his hands shoving roughly into his slacks.

"Okay," you sing-song, turning on your heel.

"Yah, you—!"

You don't bother to see what else he has to say. You're already leaving the room, humming happily to yourself.

Jeonghan stays behind, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets; his teeth, grinding so hard that they might cause real damage if he isn't careful. Despite himself, his eyes stray just a couple of inches down your retreating back. To the way your hips sway as you leave, your pencil skirt riding up ever so slightly—

"Damn it," Jeonghan cusses, one hand running through his face in frustration.

Checkmate, indeed.

[diamond-reads]

unadulterated loathing! 🪄 mingyu x reader.

madame moribble's sorcery seminar has space for only two students this semester. you're forced to make a case for yourself with the one person you despise the most: kim mingyu.

★ shiz university students!mingyu x reader. ★ smau with some fic work. word count for the fic: 2,800~ ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: modern shiz university, inspired by wicked, academic rivals, forced proximity, use of pet names, feelings realization/denial. cussing/name-calling in the spirit of bickering. this only draws from the setting of the wicked, so the given plot (i.e. wicked witch) doesn't exist here; prior knowledge of wicked is not necessary to understand the story. title is from what is this feeling. ★ footnotes: wrote this in one deranged sitting, but this is an early christmas gift for my favorite gyuldaengie, @maplegyu! 🎁 not quite the fiyero!mingyu agenda we have, but still in the same verse. ilysb. ♡

Mingyu has spent the better half of his years in Shiz going toe to toe with you.

It's to be expected, really. The two of you are the brightest of your age, tearing through your academics with ruthless precision. He always raises his hand in class. You can recite book passages word for word.

Both of you are hard to ignore, and neither of you are about to back down.

This application for the coveted Sorcery Seminar is yet another curveball that you two must navigate. You would think that after the disastrous Life Science group work in freshman year— or the Runes incident in sophomore year— that the higher-ups would know better than to force you and Mingyu into any sort of proximity.

But Madame Morrible seems intent on getting the last laugh, and Mingyu will go down swinging, if he must.

That doesn't mean he can't have a little fun, though. He shows up at the Quad at exactly five in the afternoon, making his leisurely way towards you. Everything about him is seemingly perfect. His pressed, navy blazer. His coifed dark hair.

Even the way he carries himself— practically swaggering to where you're waiting, less-than-amused— has people making way for him.

"Why the long face?" Mingyu asks sweetly in lieu of a greeting.

Your answer is curt, bordering cold. "Nothing."

Youch. "Ice queen," Mingyu mumbles under his breath as he settles onto the bench next to you.

You shoot him a glare. He flashes you a winning smile.

This was the nature of your 'relationship', or admitted lack thereof. It was a push-and-pull of Mingyu getting on your nerves every so often, of him testing how far he can draw it out before you crack.

You had your moments, though, where you could also drive him up the metaphorical wall. Like this afternoon, for instance.

You talk over him more than once. You shoot down every single idea he proposes. And you keep shifting restlessly— prompting your knee to bump into his, your elbow to hit his ribs.

When you accidentally step on the tips of his shoes in your animated, passionate denial of his nth concept, Mingyu has had just about enough.

His hand darts out until his fingers are wrapped around your wrist. Not to bruise or control, just to draw your attention to all your exaggerated movements.

"Could you stop that?" he hisses, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I swear to the Wizard, I'm going to come out of this meeting battered and bruised."

You coo at him in retaliation, your voice sickly sweet. "Aw, what is it? Gyu-Gyu of Gillkins can't handle a little roughhousing?"

Oh, it's like that? Mingyu lets out a derisive huff before dropping your hand. You give him the small concession of scooting a bit further down the bench, putting some much-needed distance between the two of you.

Mingyu's not about to let your little jab slide, though. "You talk big game for someone who goes running in the other direction whenever there's a spider around," he says wryly.

Your response is defensive, sending the two of you shuttling down your typical back-and-forth. "That was one time! Might I remind you that you once thought river fairies were mayflies?"

"Bringing up stuff from freshman year, huh? I vaguely recall you mixing up Bunbury and Bunnybury for years—"

"You still can't cast a half-decent Alarte Ascendare charm—"

"And your voice cracks whenever you try to hit the high note in Dear Old Shiz—"

"Okay, enough!"

Mingyu presses his lips tight in a poor attempt to hide his smirk. Your expression is positively murderous, contorted in one of sheer annoyance.

No, annoyance is too light of a word, too generous of a feeling. Your flushed face and Mingyu's jackhammer pulse are not mere products of some petty vexation, some harmless flirtation.

It's unadulterated loathing. True, deep loathing; total detestation.

You loathe Mingyu, and Mingyu loathes you.

As you pull the plug on your short-lived brainstorming session, marching off towards your dormitory with a dramatic flourish, Mingyu can't help but revel in the feeling. He feels like he just ran a damn marathon, all from spending twenty minutes of bickering with you.

Odd as it may seem, Mingyu has never felt so alive.

Even though you don't say it, Mingyu knows you think his idea is good.

He can see it in your acquiescence, in the way you let him run his mouth just a little more. He wants to preen over getting this little upper-hand, no matter how insignificant it may be. The two of you are working on something he suggested.

You can call him all the nasty names in the book, but your begrudging acceptance is like a trophy to him.

It's why he's so cheery as the two of you reconvene to flesh out the project. You're benevolent enough to let Mingyu wax poetics about cursed objects being integral to Oz's landscape, though you keep him from rambling when he tries to position himself as the more brilliant one between the two of you.

"Don't get cocky," you warn as you lay out the material you'll be working on for the day.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Mingyu shoots back, though he does give in and shut up for once. He's not about to push his luck. It's only half-time, after all, and he has a whole lot more of winning to do.

The two of you had agreed on flowers. For a moment, neither of you do anything about the assortment of blooms laid out on the desk in front of you. It takes Mingyu a beat too long to realize that you're looking up at him.

"What?" His free hand— the one not holding his practice wand— reaches up to his cheek. "Is there something on my face?"

The unamused glare you give him almost makes him chuckle.

"It was your idea," you point out. "So you start us off."

Ah. Mingyu knows you'll tear him a new one if he tells you the truth, which is that he didn't really think he'd get this far.

He was fully prepared for the two of you to disagree until the deadline, or to perhaps start groveling at Madame Morrible's feet for a new partner.

With this half-baked idea, though, the two of you are more likely to have to see this affair to completion.

"Right." Mingyu squares his shoulders, eyeing the flowers atop the table. "I suppose we could, er, start with some basic curses."

There's a Cheshire cat-like grin on your face that Mingyu doesn't like one bit. He steels himself for the blow, which inevitably lands in you saying, "You have no idea what we're supposed to do."

He scrunches up his nose in an expression of mock displeasure. "We're going to show off practical knowledge of enchantments," he rattles off. "Provide insight into the ethical implications of magical creations. Equip sorcerers with problem-solving skills necessitated by—"

You cut into Mingyu's tirade with a dismissive wave of your own wand.

"Blah, blah, blah," you drawl. "Ethics, insight, got it. But application? What about that, Kim?"

Mingyu has to bite back a curse from slipping past his lips. You're so infuriating. He wants to wipe that smug look off of your face, though he isn't exactly sure how he might go about that just yet.

"Maybe you want to contribute something," he grumbles, his lower lip jutting out in an almost-pout. "I already came up with the idea of the project, sweets."

Anyone else who might've been on the receiving end of Mingyu's pet names might have swooned. You always bristled, acting like he had uttered something vile.

Today, you remain perfectly unperturbed, content to have Mingyu squirm as you roll up the sleeves of your school blouse.

"Watch and weep," you say, your wand poised over the flowers.

There's nothing Mingyu hates more, really, than the reminder of just how good you are. The two of you were academic monsters to begin with, though you had your respective strengths and weaknesses. Mingyu excelled in theories; you dominated practice.

In some alternate universe, the two of you might have been an unstoppable duo. As it is, though, Mingyu can only hope that your fragile truce will hold long enough to secure you both that class slot.

He tries his darndest to keep his awe at bay as you mumble incantations. The curses you leave on the flowers seem to be mostly minor.

The daisy's leaves begin to flutter like propellers. The carnation starts to rapidly change colors. The rose goes through a constant process of wilting and rebirth, the dried petals pooling on the table with each cycle.

When Mingyu steals a glance at you, he notices the sweat beading your temples. Magic took a lot out of a person, and to cast three spells in a row was no joke.

"First, we should do a magical construction analysis." Your voice is a little tighter, a little more strained. Probably from the exhaustion. "And then a de-cursing process. Strategies and techniques for reversing or neutralizing the curse."

You go on to talk about how your demonstration for Madame Morrible should go— something about a live reversal or containment of a curse, and a detailed explanation of their findings— but Mingyu is only half-listening.

His eyes keep flitting to your quivering fingertips. His own hands twitch in his lap.

It's a sudden feeling. It's a new feeling.

Mingyu never thought he'd care for you, and yet here he is with his aborted attempt to reach out, to soothe, to comfort.

In between piles of schoolwork and preparations for the demonstration, Mingyu hardly has any time to notice the shifts in your relationship. You don't seem any the wiser, either, which is saying something. You tended to have a better emotional quotient than his overdramatic self, anyhow.

But there are shifts. Small changes in the day to day that are imperceptible to the less-discerning eye.

The two of you remain cutthroat in the classroom, drawing your peers' ire with your relentless rivalry. Behind closed doors, though, there's something more akin to… civility?

Mingyu wouldn't dare call it friendship. He's not that naive. He just knows there's an ounce of kindness, now. Some self-imposed restraint, some begrudging respect.

As the two of you move on to executing more complicated curses, the changing dynamic bears down in the most glaring ways.

"Enough."

The word comes out as a wheeze, but Mingyu injects it with just enough authority to have you pause. You don't look any better than he does. You're folded in half, your hands resting on your knees as you try to catch your breath.

The spell that neither of you could conjure just yet involved a hand mirror and an ancient curse. So far, all the two of you have managed is to make the mirror sing.

"Let's— take a break," Mingyu offers.

Your response is to be expected. "I don't need a break. I need to get this stupid curse right."

A muscle in Mingyu's jaw jumps. He stares down at you with a look of sheer incredulity, and you only return his glare with a defiant one of your own. Someplace else— with someone else— the electricity crackling between the two of you might have been sexual tension.

Alas, Mingyu knows it's nothing more than your shared animosity.

… Right?

He breaks the silence with a mumble of, "I need a break. Give me five minutes."

Honestly, Mingyu could keep going. He thinks he has it in him to try and cast the spell a couple more times, but he's willing to look weak if it means getting you to pause.

You don't even have a snappy retort or a smartass insult to his declaration. All you give is a jerky nod of your head before you lumber off towards the nearest chair in the otherwise-empty classroom. A peculiar expression flashes across Mingyu's face as he watches you walk, almost like every step that you take is an effort. You miss the look in favor of practically collapsing on to one of the desks.

"Wizard Almighty," Mingyu cusses lowly. He reaches your side in a couple of strides, though he pauses with his hand hovering over your shoulder.

At the last moment, he clenches his hand into a fist and draws back.

"Is this seminar class really worth dying for?" he muses, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"I'm not— dying," you choke out. "I just need— a—"

There's an edge of exasperation in Mingyu's tone. "You need a break. It's just me. You can admit that."

Before you can shoot back, Mingyu wanders off to his backpack. He digs through it for a moment before he can procure his water bottle, which he wordlessly places onto the desk you're on.

You give a quiet sound of appreciation before uncorking the bottle and taking a long swig. The rehydration seems to invigorate you in the slightest, enough for you to straighten to your full height. Mingyu holds back on teasing you over the way you've emptied his drink.

The first words you say after you've caught your breath are "It's because it's you."

Mingyu's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He tilts his head to one side, looking every bit like the confused puppy he's often likened to. "Pardon?"

"You said— I can admit that I need a break, because it's just you." You place Mingyu's water bottle down, your hands bracing the edge of the desk as you speak. You're looking up at Mingyu, but you're not quite looking at him. It's like your gaze is fixed on something just beyond his line of sight, and it hits him that you're avoiding his gaze.

You clarify, "I didn't want to admit that I needed a break to you."

His immediate reaction is to protest. To laugh and call you stupid, to question your faulty logic. But when Mingyu's lips part, the insult at the very tip of his tongue—

He finds that his words are just out of reach.

Because, for better or for worse, he understands where you're coming from. The two of you have exploited each other's weaknesses, have poked and prodded holes into each other's defenses. Why should this be any different?

There's an inexplicable twinge in Mingyu's chest. A tangible, physical tightening, over the spot where his heart is.

He had wanted it to be different. He doesn't know why, but he thought that this might make things different.

Instead, he manages to push out a heatless, "Right. That adds up."

Neither of you say anything for a while. The five-minute break stretches into seven, then ten. Right before the fifteen-minute mark, you say, "I think we should call it a day."

Mingyu— who has spent the past quarter of an hour trying to untangle his thoughts— jumps at the suggestion.

"Definitely," he says a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah. Let's… tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. Same time?"

"Got it."

You gather your things and begin to make your way out of the classroom. Mingyu moves a little slower, not wanting to have to prolong any conversation if the two of you were to leave together.

He thinks he'll never have an answer to the question clanging in his mind until you pause halfway out of the door.

"Kim Mingyu."

He freezes in the middle of adjusting his bag strap over his shoulder. "Hm?" he hums, trying his best to act noncommittal even though his entire posture is already defensive in nature.

The sight of it seems to amuse you, because the ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. It's not a smile that you've ever given him. He's seen it in the corner of his eye, witnessed you dole it out to underclassmen and friends. And maybe he's always been a bit envious, a bit desperate to be on the receiving end of it.

Now that he is, he feels like he just got punched in the gut.

"Thank you," you say.

Plain, simple, unadorned. No explanation. It could be grace for the water. Grace for the break. Grace for the partnership. Mingyu doesn't know, doesn't care. He'll take what you have to give.

His mind tries to conjure the perfect response, one that might have you feeling the same way that he is. No problem or you're welcome or it's just me, sunshine.

What he eventually settles on is an exhale of "Always."

He wants to kick himself for it. Who the hell says 'always' to 'thank you'? a chiding voice screams in the back of his head. What does that even mean?!

He winces outwardly. Your smile widens slightly, just enough to throw him off balance once again.

And then you're gone, your footsteps echoing down Shiz' hall, leaving Mingyu with the answer.

Mingyu loathed you in theory, but in practice? Well.

He's so caught up in trying to unpack his realization that he nearly misses the quiet ping of his phone in his pocket.

[diamond-reads]

as a disclaimer this is gonna be really really fucking long ok anyways HERE WE GO

I'm putting the rest of this review under a read more bc I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY BUT here is what i think:

Alta you are so so talented at what you do truly - the world building and the characterization and the DIALOGUE????? out of this world. the dynamics between your characters is ART and you have written a MASTERPIECE. the way your themes carry through every character and every scene is SO POIGNANT i am actually OBSESSED. the hard work you put into this genuinely paid off I am so fucking proud of you. and the SMUT do NAWT get me STARTED i am FROTHING AT THE MOUTH!!!!!!!!!!1!!11 honestly all the smut is amazingly written and i dont want to give spoilers but the ASS BITING and the "sensitive here?" i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life and also in death.

to anyone who hasn't read this yet: read it. that's all i can say. pls read this

ok now read on to see some of my favorite lines (SPOILERS AHEAD):

from the GET GO i am HOOKED? alta this banter is so good like it just feels SO JEONGHAN i'm obsessed

everything about the placement of this line took my breath away. the way you placed it amongst this GORGEOUS description of the tapestry and Seungkwan's fury? art. and then you hit us with a double whammy with this line:

and i swear i dropped to my knees. alta you're so good at this insanely hard hitting one-liners im actually speechless

your honor he LOVES HER. ok pausing here - this set up is wonderful truly i have never been so enthralled by characters like this - the way seungkwan was introduced is FANTASTIC with the "He promised his life to this." is so fitting and so poignant. and HE BATHES HER? HE BATHES HER!!!! ugh boo seungkwan i fear i love you.

i love this line truly - what an evocative scene as a whole, like the juxtaposition between boo's divine aspirations and human flaws adds so much depth, and it's perfectly framed by:

seungkwan's voice here is so clear and powerful i love it

this is INSANE - like genuinely this is SO WELL written and it really brings into focus this clash between human authenticity and divine perfection but ALSO? the LINES AFTER? "the touch of a woman?" the tears rolling down seungkwan's face? i'm sat. i'm literally salivating for them i LOVE how you've written their dynamic

um OKAY GIRL get it i guess !!!! internally i want seungkwan to spank her but i know he wont but UGH the dialogue!!!! the description of the gardens!!!!

if you need me i will be SCREAMING into a pillow forever at this

i did laugh at this i must admit alta ur funny

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

WhEN did we go from THREADLING to ANGEL HELLO? nawt that i am complaining though YIPPEEEEEEEEE

i'm actually frothing at the mouth for this seungkwan do not look at me

I FUCKING CALLED IT I FUCKING KNEW IT SEUNGKWAN UR A SHITTY LIAR

no bc im actually crying YOUR HONOR THEY ARE IN LOVE PLEASE LET THEM BE IN LOVE PLEASELHR PLEASE

am i giggling a little. yes. look away.

the way you decided to break my heart after she just sucked his soul out through his dick is a CRIME ALTA go to JAIL i am SCREAMING (bc of the dick sucking) and CRYING (bc of that line)

oh my god i completely forgot cheol is zeus but THIS IS DELICIOUS I LOVE

on a more serious note i fucking LOVE with this theme of unattainable perfection its so juicy and though-provoking UGH i love it i love it i dont know what else to say bc im bad at words but i promise its so good

jeonghan is SUCH A MENACE i adore him. smash. raw.

the call!!!!! is coming!!!!! from INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!!!!

i don't know if you meant to make this another icarus reference but thats what i read it as and I AM OBSESSED! like she's too close to the sun with her love idk im not wording but AH!

the way i inhaled very loudly is concerning but AGAIN with these INSANE one-liners alta this is an ART FORM. but genuinely this push and pull between the two of them and this idea that gods and humans are not meant to mix like the classics geek in me is absolutely SCREAMING! also i just need to comment on the eros x psyche thing bc i havent yet ITS SO GOOD and it contributes to this theme so WELL????? like this idea that human x god has happened but she and seungkwan have such differing views on it is DELICIOUS alta u are a genius i fear.

ok im back to being a brainless pile of MUSH just KISS already like what do you MEAN "for yyesterday" PLEASE P{LEASE i am BEGGING

oh nvm my prayers were ANSWERWED! THANKYOU ALTA WE LOVE YOU ALTA WE ALL SAY IN UNISON (and then we all melt into puddles bc WHAT THE FUCK what the FUCKKKKKKKKKK) - alta i have already told you how i feel abt this but pls know i genuinely needed a full solid 7 minutes to move on from this. actually i will never move on from this from now on this scene is my grecian empire (see what i did there)

aaaaaand this is where i passed out actually i had to stop and stare and reread this line about 45 times. my heart rate is still so high

yo he FREAKY and i LOVE IT

i have nothing to say about this. i just needed this to be here. this needs to be immortalized (heheh get what i did there again)

i need this injected into my veins

THERE IS A RIVER! IN EGYPT! THEY SHOULD TALK ABOUT THIS RIVER IN EGYPT! but also JESUS CHRIST my god i will unhinge my jaw and swallow seungkwan whole any day

ok its no longer allowing screenshots so we're now doing indented quotes:

"Skin he longs to run his fingers down, sink his teeth into, kiss raw–"

NO ONE EVER SPEAK TO ME EVER AGAIN

"You answer that Seungkwan made it for you, and isn’t it so pretty? Jisung glances over his shoulder before scoffing out a yeah."

I LOVE jealousy (i am toxic ik) and this is SO GOOOOOOOOOOD i want all of it i am obsessed

"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.” "

I literally KNEW this was coming and it still hit me like a BUS RAHHHHHH i want seungkwan so bad it must be a disease or smth. also this theme of greed in here OOOOOOOF the literature nerd in me is eating out the palm of your hand alta

"He’s only a god because Seungcheol said so, he’s no different than you are."

I would quote the entire section that preceded this but it would get really long but back to the serious literature nerd bit - this theme of human vs god and perfection vs imperfection is so fucking beautifully written and it makes my heart HURT in the best fucking way it's such a captivating theme and im OBSESSED with it. the fact that Seunkwan realizes that he can be AUTHENTIC and be a GOD? and that she doesn't CARE about him being a GOD, that he can have EMOTIONS and be IMPERFECT UGH I AM DEAD

"He doesn’t let you reply, pressing his lips against yours gently."

FUCKING FINALLYYYYYY THANK YOU ALTAAAA WE ALL CHEERED. the build up to this was SO YUMMY and the PAYOFF? chefs kiss. take a bow. you deserve a standing ovation the kiss is SO GOOD i am SALIVATING

"This…you’d read about this. Lovers, so close together. Lovers, holding each other dear, cherishing each other, worshiping each other."

hey. hey. what the fuck. hey. i need to be PUT DOWN i need to be PUT DOWN RIGHT NOWWWWW this was SOOOOO VKAWHGTH03IYT;ASKIYEY7T89

"He feels relieved when you’re not around."

I KNEW THE RAIN WAS A BAD SIGN!!!!! ugh WHYYYY we were JUST HAPPY we were JUST KISSING WHYYYYY

“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.”

oh my HEART it HURTS SO GOOD but SO BAD it was so beautifully written i am CRYING this was everything to me

"Because he’d be admitting imperfection. And god forbid Boo Seungkwan admit he’s not perfect."

AND WE'RE BACK TO THIS HEARTBREAKING THEME UGH when will he realize he can be a god and be AUTHENTIC and have FLAWS and LOVE AAAAA im obsessed

“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.”

listen this whole theme of Seungkwan not wanting to be like Seungcheol and then Seungcheol saying THIS? insanity. so good. artistic perfection if you ask me.

"Nothing but warmth can be felt around him, his chest tightening with the thought of you flooding his mind. So this is love."

oh FINALLY FINALLY i actually love the way you wrote this realization bc coming from someone commitment-phobic this is EXACTLY how long it takes to realize things like this. its long and heartbreaking and annoying and it real and you wrote it so well alta

“I’m sorry.”

i did cry here ngl. everything about this confession was heartwrenching but its the first line that got me the hardest

“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 knew this one was coming too but IT HIT ME IN THE GUT SO FAST i am BREATHLESS ugh alta you wrote this so fucking well i literally dont even know what else to say here. beautiful, poignant, AMAZING

“Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you.”  “Kiss you…bite you…worship you. All for me, my girl. My angel.” “Always so tense, hm? Just let go.” “Want you only, Seungkwan. Forever.” “I’ll be better. I promise, angel, I’ll be the best man I can.”  “For as long as I live, I promise I’ll be nothing but yours. My dying days, my worst moments, I’m yours.”

WE'RE BACK TO MINDLESS MUSH I AM SCREAMING I AM A PUDDLE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i literally dont have a single thing to say. no critiques. i am vibrating. i have ascended. i think i see god. i love the switch between seungkwan and her, i love that he finally lets go and TRUSTS HER I LOVEEEEEE i am shaking.

“Love me.” He blurts. “Love me until you can’t anymore. Please, have that mercy upon me.”

oh my god. i am in awe. what a LINE. what a LINE!!!!! love as mercy? as forgiveness? i am UNDONE.

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.

i am actually fighting tears writing this. alta this is fucking BEAUTIFUL i love how we get this amazing conclusion to this AMAZING work with this beautiful theme of perfection and humanity and love and life and UGH i will wax poetic about this FOREVER

So much for unforgiven.

LOVE IS FORGIVENESS LOVE IS KIND LOVE IS EVERYTHING AND LOVE DOESNT NEED TO BE PERFECT

i am a sobbing mess. this was insane. i love you alta.

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.

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

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the first snow

★ | member — joshua x gn reader ★ | genre — fluff, a little angst, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers ★ | word count — 1.3k ★ | synopsis — you think of joshua every time it snows. but does he think of you, too? ★ | warnings — none; no physical description of reader ★ | notes — based on the song by exo! it still hasn't snowed here yet but this song came on and i was inspired to write something :) if you liked this please remember to reblog and let me know in the tags/replies how you liked it! happy december!

you always think of joshua when it snows.

something about the soft, silent flakes just reminds you of him. but only the fresh kind of snow, the gentle dusting of white on the ground and the chill in the air that makes you want to snuggle up with a cup of hot cocoa. the kind that makes you feel like you're living inside a snow globe, a moment behind a glass bubble, frozen in time. that kind of snow is your favorite, when you're indoors watching it from the comfort of your home.  

now, while you're laying in bed watching the flurries outside your window covering the world in a blanket of white, he's all you can think about.

the first time it snowed with him, you were in bed just like this. except then it had been early in the morning, when the sun hadn't risen yet but the moonlight reflected off the snow and illuminated the night. the world had seemed brighter then.

“baby,” he'd mumbled your nickname in your ear, his deep morning voice still laced with sleepiness, yet you can hear the excitement hiding inside his words. “wake up. it's snowing.”

“i'll see it in the morning,” you groan, burying your head in the pillow. but you don't let his arms move from around you, his chest firmly pressed against your back keeping you surrounded in warmth beneath the covers. he's always been like your personal heater, especially in the winter.

he whines and nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck, his breath warm on your skin as he whispers. “please? c'mon, darling.”

you sigh and summon the last of your energy to lift your head, and as soon as you do he swoops in to kiss your cheek, tickling your face with the smile on his lips. in the dark you can barely see the snow swirling outside, but it fills you with the same sense of calm you always feel around him, and you can't help but smile back.

“see? it looks so pretty.” joshua grins, kissing you again. “just like you.”

the fresh snow still reminds you of him, but now so does the old snow. the half-melted snow, the kind that's started to seep into the cracks. the kind that doesn't go away easily, mixing itself with twigs and rocks and dirt until it's no longer a pretty shade of white, warm and comforting. no, this kind is harsh and bitter, cold without any of the beauty to mask the reality of its nature. cold like day-old ice covering the ground, dark patches that you can't always see until you've already slipped and fallen.

the knock on your door comes as you're still trying to drag yourself out of bed and do something to take your mind off him.

you finally manage to pull your gaze away from the window, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. the sound of your slippers against the floor only makes the room seem even smaller, and even with the lights on the house feels dark tonight, your christmas tree still bare. you couldn't bear to decorate it alone this year.

you open the door, and simultaneously everything you'd dreaded and hoped for is standing in front of you, covered in snow.

“joshua?”

“hi,” he laughs awkwardly. even with the clear tension his eyes still sparkle the same way they always do, the way you so dearly missed. “how have you been?”

all you want to do is jump into his arms, but instead you keep your feet rooted in place. “what are you doing here?”

“i… don't know.” he gives you a weary smile, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. he's quiet for a long moment as you wait for him to explain, trying to come up with the words to say. “my car broke down a couple blocks away, and my phone died before i could call a tow. i didn't know what else to do.”

“so you think it’s a good idea to show up at my doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm?” you can't keep the bite in your words as a gust of wind blows into your house, and joshua winces.

“as good a time as any, to tell you i'm sorry.”

you release a breath, a cloud of fog escaping into the air in front of you. he must be freezing, standing outside wearing just the coat you'd given him on your first christmas together. a part of you is surprised he even still has it, but nothing surprises you anymore when it comes to him. you wonder whether he notices you're still wearing the pajamas he got you.

“it's been a year, joshua.”

he exhales, looking down at his feet as he crosses his arms. “i know. i regret it every day, i shouldn't have let it go that long.” he finally lifts his eyes, rocking back and forth on his feet. “i'm not expecting anything. i just… i missed you. i had to see you.”

you chew on your lip, and silence falls between the two of you. you can see the snowflakes sticking to his hair, soft white flakes slowly melting, and you have to fight your every instinct not to reach out and ruffle his hair for him like you always did.

finally you step out of the doorway, waving him inside, and with a relieved sigh he wipes his boots on your outdoor mat.

“listen…” he swallows as you close your front door behind him, slipping his shoes off and following you into the living room. “i know i left at a bad time. i was stupid. i would have done everything different if i knew i'd lose you. that’s not what i wanted, not at all.”

you nod, crossing your arms over your chest in silence. you don't reply.

“my mom keeps asking when you're coming over for christmas.” he starts to say something else, but you interrupt before he can get that far. you don't want to have to tell him how much you missed spending the holidays with his family. 

“you could've called.”

“would you have picked up?”

you look away from him, focusing on a spot on the floor. you don't want to admit it, because it means admitting you still haven't moved on. but you've never been able to lie to him, not even now. “yeah.”

his expression softens like he wasn't expecting your answer, but you don't see it. you don't want to meet his eyes. you don't know if you can.

“it's snowing,” joshua says quietly, taking a small step towards you. you don't move.

you hum, but you still haven't looked back up at him. “i can see that.”

“you used to love it when it snowed.”

“i still do.”

he takes another step. “so do i.”

somehow, you know he's aware neither of you are talking about the weather anymore. the house falls quiet again and you exhale, trying to hold yourself together. you're almost glad he never called, because you don't know if you'd have been able to do this over the phone.

joshua slowly lifts his hand to cup your cheek, gently guiding your chin up to finally look at him. his voice is soft when he finally speaks, that familiar quiet whisper like he used to. “can we try again?”

you don't want to look at him, but you have to. there's so much you've wanted to tell him, so much you've wanted to say over the past year, but nothing comes. you've missed your best friend, the way he makes you laugh, the way he makes you feel.

the first snow doesn't feel the same without him. 

© junkissed 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

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What are the Vibes? || CSC

(banner and title by @sailorrhansol lol thanks bestie)

What are the Vibes? Seungcheol x afab!reader || pwp || established relationship kind of implied NSFW - minors DNI

wc: 1.2k warnings: language, kissing, fingering (f. receiving), vibrator use (f. receiving), piv sex, bossy seungcheol makes a frustrating rule in bed but it's all in fun

summary: Seungcheol always gives you what you need. Today, he's gonna make you ask for it first.

author's note: once every two years i blink and a pwp appears. this one is a gift to hali, who writes what i ask for every time and deserves to receive nice things too <3 the babygirl is just for you, babygirl. ily and thank you for typo check!!!! <3

Straight into smut, so putting the whole thing below a read more!

When Seungcheol presses your favorite purple vibrator against your already nearly-shaky fingers, your intuition sparks, warning you that you’re in for it. Maybe it isn’t intuition. Maybe you just know him - know what kind of mood he’s in from the set of his jaw and the flash in his eyes.

You’re already one round in; he’s already made you come on his fingers once and then again on his cock, your ankles on his shoulders. You were ready for him to come deep inside you, leaning over you far enough to make your hamstrings sting with the stretch, but he’d backed away, slipped out of you, left you whining and empty.

“You do it,” he tells you, as your fingers close around the silicone. “Give yourself one for me.”

He stretched out next to you, stroking himself lazily, like it didn’t bother him at all to stop in the middle. You’re caught for a second on all his rounded places - the swell of his shoulder, his biceps flexing as he works his cock slowly, the rise of his cheek with that smirk that means trouble, the ass that could launch a thousand ships.

“Go on,” he tells you, and you take a shuddering breath as your thumb finds the familiar button by muscle memory. The first setting barely registers - you’re already overstimulated and it just feels like the physical representation of noise when you’re going to need a melody if you’re going to come like this. But when you dip the fingers of your spare hand towards your opening, already sore in the best way and still messy and slick from earlier, Seungcheol’s hand whips out and grabs your wrist lightning-quick.

“Nope,” he murmurs darkly, rolling so he’s halfway over you. He releases your wrist and uses his new proximity to kiss you sweetly, lingering lovingly, at odds with his entire demeanor. When his lips leave yours, he whispers, “Outside only. Inside is mine.”

You let out a huff - part frustration, part amusement. But Seungcheol doesn’t often play games like this with you, and it’s thrilling in its novelty. You obey, sliding the toy closer to your clit, trying to work yourself back up slowly. Satisfied and trusting you to follow his rules - whims, really - Seungcheol moves back to his spot next to you, eyes combing over your prone body.

You try all your normal tricks, but long minutes pass and while it feels good you can tell it’s not climbing - the pleasure isn’t tightening or spooling or triggering that snap that you always know is a warning sign. You huff again, this time all frustration. It isn’t going to happen - not with only external stimulation.

“What is it?” Seungcheol asks, low, and there’s something teasing in it. It’s like he expected this, and now he’s pleased to be right.

“I can’t,” you complain. “I need…” You trail off, shy, even after all this time.

He knows what you need. He’s going to make you say it anyway. He waits you out, like a saint with all the patience in the world.

“Need you,” you try pitifully, hoping he’ll let you get away with it.

“I’m here,” he says innocently, and you make a noise of complaint, nudging at his shins with your toes in protest. His smile grows; he’s enjoying teasing you.

“You know what I mean,” you protest. The toy buzzes valiantly in your hand, but you’re barely even pressing it against yourself anymore - it isn’t doing much for you at this point. Your body knows what it wants. Nothing but Seungcheol will do.

“I guess if you want something, you’ll have to ask for it,” he pretends to muse, trying to fight off a satisfied smile.

You whine wordlessly, frustrated. “Seungcheol,” you scold.

His smile only grows, dimples deepening. “What do you need, babygirl?”

You want to stomp your feet and bang your fists in protest. “I need you, please, this isn’t enough - I’m not gonna -”

“What do you need?” he asks again. You nearly sob with frustration; it’s clear he won’t be giving you anything unless you ask.

Frustration and desperation dance together behind your ribs, and you hear yourself beg, “Anything, Cheol, even a finger, please - just something, I need you.”

This must be the magic phrase that Seungcheol needed to hear today, I need you, because his smile splits across his face. “Just a finger?” he teases, but he’s circling the tip of his pointer around your spasming hole and it’s already six billion times better than it was a second ago, your body responding with a hearty clench and a new rush of fluid. “That’s all you want? Are you sure?”

“I mean,” you gulp, trying to breathe at your body chases that tantalizing fingertip, hips canting like you might catch him off-guard and slip him inside, “That’s not all I want, but if that’s all you want to give me right now, then I’ll take it.”

He coos annoyingly, but rolls closer, pushing that single digit into your heat. It’s barely anything but your eyes nearly roll back just from sheer relief - this is what your body wanted, this is what it will take to push you over the edge.

“That’s not all I want to give you,” he promises, barely louder than a whisper, and then adds a second finger, wasting no time in curling them into that spot on your front wall that he knows so well.

It takes only seconds for your body to respond, clamping down on his fingers, the muddled buzzing from the vibrator suddenly coming into perfect focus - sharp and targeted. You hear yourself wail, but the room’s gone fuzzy as his fingers piston into the spot that keeps your muscles clenched for so long that you think you sail right past a first orgasm straight into a second one. You click off the vibrator and toss it to the side, reveling in the feel of his fingers stroking along your sensitive walls, pushing lightly against that spot that makes your toes curl.

Seungcheol whispers praises into your ear, fingers finally slowing, ending with a nearly-awed, “You just got so wet.”

You can feel it, inside and out, but the orgasm has chased away any shyness and now you can finally say what you mean:

“Hurry up,” you tell him, tugging at his arms to get him in motion faster. “Get up here and fuck me.”

He lets out a sound that’s partly a laugh and partly disbelief, but he doesn’t hesitate at all before rolling over top of you and pressing his tip against your entrance, pushing to the hilt slowly but without pause. When he bottoms out, a soft sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest, you clutch at him, holding tight to his shoulders, wanting to keep him here - right where you wanted him all along.

He nips at your jaw playfully before pulling nearly all the way out, then sheathing himself smoothly once again.

“Yes, please, just like that,” you breathe, eyes fluttering closed.

He gives you a devilish smile and repeats the motion. “All you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin.

--

thank you for reading!!

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xinganhao 🌟 shared a moment with you: "joshua x reader"

it's the first day of december, and joshua still loves you.

[diamond-reads]

lexi hello !!

for your sugar and spice game: "Does he fuck you like this?" + action 14 + location 6 + jeonghan

excited to see what you come up with 💕💕

Jeonghan loves to move you across the room like a paper doll, giving you a new orgasm in every unique location he can think of.

The fifth orgasm finds you against the wall, legs barely able to be held up. Jeonghan keeps both hands firm on your hips, his face soaked in your essence with no bother to clean you or himself up.

"Did--does--he fuck you like this?" Jeonghan whispers with unbridled rage, the text from your ex-boyfriend from an hour earlier causing the ruckus you found yourself in now. "Would you ever go back to him knowing you'll never come as hard or as much as you do with me?"

You shake your head profusely. You lovingly wrap your fingers in his blond hair, hoping he'll show you mercy based on your refusal to leave him. "No, Hannie. I'd never."

"Good," he says before sucking on your clit once again. "Once we're done here, you better have him blocked."

hosting a drabble game; come request one! 🤍

[diamond-reads]

✏️ data science major!jeonghan x reader.

if there's one thing you've never been able to decode, it'd be your ex-boyfriend jeonghan ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ college exes, jeonghan is a menace™, suggestive coding pickup lines, [slight] angst, terrible pseudo-html for the hc (shoutout to w3schools). more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @choco-scoups & anon!

<!doctype html> <html> <head> <title> decoding the breakup </title> <subtitle> yoon jeonghan (est. 2024) </subtitle> </head> </body> <script>

if (you still love them) {   // remind yourself of why you broke up in the first place   // date other people who don't even come close to them   // bury yourself in schoolwork or literally anything else that will make you forget } else {   // accept that you still have feelings }

if (you want them back) {   // be annoying enough that you're always on their mind   // reverse psychology them into thinking that they want you back   // reference your relationship so they might want it back, too   // hit them with the world's worst pickup lines so you can catch their attention } else {   // keep on trying until you succeed }

<p> confession time: running into you at what's supposed to be our spot was completely unintentional. that wasn't part of the bigger plan, of the grand scheme of things. that was just me trying to find some comfort in something familiar. in the quiet places where you once loved me. i'm a fool who likes to pretend, here and there, that our little corner of campus still remembers what it was like for us to be together. </p>

if (they still hate you) {   // accept it  // settle for what you're given } else {   // live for the hope of it all }

<p> confession time, part two: i still love you. of course i do. why the hell would i be doing all this if i didn't? <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/jun">jun</a> says love isn't a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but i beg to differ. at the risk of sounding like a bigger fool, i truly believe that i don't think i'll ever love anyone as much as i've loved you. </p>

<p> even <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/mingyu">mingyu</a> has gotten his sequel. and he's asked me, time and time again, if that's something i want with you. some second chance romance, one that won't end with me being 'Maybe: Jeonghan' in your phone. </p>

<p> <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/vernon">vernon</a> will be the first to tell us both that the body doesn't lie. some bullshit about the heart knowing what it wants, about it not being good for us to deny our most basic instincts of what it truly wants. our friends don't know how to keep their opinions to themselves, unfortunately. </p>

<p> <h1> anyway. what matters are my thoughts, right? </h1> </p>

<p> and my only thought is that i love you. i loved you when we were together, and i love you even now. i loved you, and i was bad at it, and i will live the rest of my life wondering what i could have done differently. as it is, i'm worried that i'm still not good enough for you. that i'll make the same mistakes that i did back then. </p>

<p> i'm happy to just love you, if you'll let me. i'm happy to be petty, to make up all these terrible pick up lines. to make you smile and scoff and roll your eyes. i want to love you and to want nothing in return. not until i deserve it. not until i can finally, finally say i'm worth your time. </p>

<p> <small> please. </small> </p>

</script> </body> </html>

[diamond-reads]

📺 ARE YOU STILL WATCHING "SVTFLIX"?

welcome to SVTFLIX, @xinganhao's second milestone event. these will air in no particular order. thank you for following, and i hope you enjoy the show!

Today's Top Picks For You Explore All ›

Anime Explore All ›

Spy × Family Slick ⋅ Offbeat ⋅ Comedy starring Choi Seungcheol

A spy, an assassin, and a telepath come together to pose as a family, each for their own reasons, while hiding their true identities from each other.

Kaguya-sama: Love Is War Deadpan ⋅ Romantic Anime ⋅ First Love starring Yoon Jeonghan

The proudly privileged top two students of an elite school each make it their mission to be the first to extract a confession of love from the other.

365 Days to the Wedding Drama ⋅ Workplace 'Romance' ⋅ Comedy starring Hong Joshua

Two unmarried workers at a travel agency hear about a branch office being opened in a distant land to be staffed by single workers, so they decide to marry each other to avoid that fate.

K-Dramas Explore All ›

Love Next Door Frenemies ⋅ Second Chances ⋅ Romance starring Wen Junhui

When you return home for a rest, you unexpectedly become entangled with an old friend.

What's Wrong With Secretary Kim Feel-Good ⋅ Comedy ⋅ Redemption starring Kwon Soonyoung

A vainglorious executive who seemingly has everything faces devastating news when you, his personal assistant, announce that you've decided to quit.

Our Beloved Summer Intimate ⋅ Young Adult ⋅ Angst starring Jeon Wonwoo

Years after filming a viral documentary in high school, two bickering ex-lovers get pulled back in front of the camera— and into each other's lives.

Hotel Del Luna Quirky ⋅ Fantasy TV ⋅ Angst starring Lee Jihoon

When you are invited to manage a hotel for dead souls, you get to know the establishment's ancient owner and his strange world.

Hollywood Movies Explore All ›

50 First Dates Quirky ⋅ Romantic ⋅ Comedy starring Kim Mingyu

A man who is afraid of commitment falls in love with you, who has short-term memory loss and forgets him every day.

Set It Up Witty ⋅ Intimate ⋅ 'Parent' Trapping starring Lee Seokmin

Two young, overworked assistants realize they can make their lives easier by setting up their workaholic bosses to date.

13 Going 30 Romantic ⋅ Comedy ⋅ Drama starring Xu Minghao

You're transformed into a grownup overnight— except a life without your best friend Minghao isn't quite one that you imagined.

TV Dramas Explore All ›

Black Mirror Utopian Fiction ⋅ Romance ⋅ Mystery starring Boo Seungkwan

Paired up by a dating program that puts an expiration date on all relationships, you and Seungkwan soon begin to question the system's logic.

Normal People Angst ⋅ Drama ⋅ Relationships starring Chwe Hansol

You and Vernon, from different backgrounds but the same small town, weave in and out of each other's romantic lives.

The Summer I Turned Pretty Summer Romance ⋅ Coming-of-Age ⋅ Drama starring Lee Chan

A story about first love, first heartbreak, and the magic of that one perfect summer.

📺 WHO'S WATCHING?

all accomplished smaus/imagines will be linked back to this masterlist. ideally, this will be complete by february 2025 latest. work will also be under the ff. tag: ── ᵎᵎ ✦ milestone event: svtflix ✩ psd template by user seungnm!

it's worth noting that i have varying degrees of familiarity with the aforementioned source material. they will be used mostly for inspiration, which means the plots of my work may/may not directly parallel the media each boy is assigned to.

thank you! (´◡`)

[diamond-reads]

🔄 svt x reverse tropes.

✩ reversal of popular tropes, most of which are based on this post! established relationships, breakups, angst [if you squint], crack -ish, fluff, cussing. drabbles under the cut.

🔄 uno reverse card .ᐟ

seungcheol & mafia boss kidnaps you accidentally kidnapping the mafia boss.

seungcheol isn't really sure how he ended up in this situation. the cool metal of the chains feel foreign on his ankles, and he briefly considers trying to break through them himself. what kind of 'kidnapper' lost the key to their cuffs? he can only watch, exasperated, as you google how to pick a lock with a hairpin. you're sweating buckets. he finds it just a teensy bit amusing. "don't worry. i'll spare your life," he drawls as he leans back to watch you fret. "but only if you get me out in fifteen minutes. otherwise… well. that's debatable."

jeonghan & fake relationship breakup.

what was supposed to be an april fool's prank has ended the relationship that jeonghan never thought he'd be without. that isn't to say he hated you. god, no. if anything, he's convinced he'll love you to his grave. it's just— a different kind of love, he concedes, as the two of you hold hands underneath the table. mingyu jeers something about the breakup being a joke, and jeonghan shakes his head. "it's as real as they come," he announces. the two of you glance at each other when nobody's looking. it'll be your little secret, it seems.

joshua & marriage divorce of convenience.

it's a question of assets and inheritance, the whole reason why you and joshua have to 'divorce' in the first place. he's been incredibly vocal about his distaste— the thought of being away for you for ever a moment is ludicrous— but he'll grin and bear it, if it means the two of you can live a cushy life when you retire. still, he frowns as you sign off on the papers. he focuses on the promise of a second wedding. "i want a hundred guests." he wraps his arms around you from behind. "and a chocolate fondue. please."

junhui & there's only one bed there's too many beds.

how the hell did jun miss the fact that the listing said 7 beds, not 1? he'd tried so hard to orchestrate a little forced proximity moment with you, only to fail spectacularly. he lays on the top bunk of the double deck, staring at the ceiling, as he contemplates his life choices. you're still giggling in the bunk below him. "oh, shut up," he grumbles, though there's a hint of a fond grin on his face. maybe tomorrow night, he thinks, he'll recommend a horror movie. that way, you might ignore all the other beds and crawl into his.

soonyoung & miscommunication too much communication.

it's a little too hard to keep up with the string of confessions bursting out of soonyoung. the whiplash is dizzying, how he's going from talking about the way he felt when he first saw you, the crush that's been festering for weeks, the dream he had of you last night— and, oh, now he's on his knees. "soonyoung, please get up," you urge, horrified, but he stays on the ground. "isn't honesty the best policy?" he asks, eyes blown wide with overwhelming sincerity as he looks up at you. "c'mon, give me a shot! please, please, please!"

wonwoo & 'academic' rivals (except you're both teachers).

there's no way that you're the top class of the month. wonwoo has half a mind to march up to the principal's office and demand a recount. his eyes narrow in response to your smug smile— one that he'll wipe off your face if his life depends on it. "don't get cocky," he warns you below his breath. in his mind, he's already envisioning how he and his students can knock you off the leader board. this was not going to stand. "i'll get you next time," he says, and it sounds more like a threat than a challenge.

jihoon & fake dating everyone is convinced we're not dating.

this will definitely prove it, jihoon thinks to himself as he leans in to kiss you in lieu of a greeting. you let out a surprised hum against his lips but you melt right against him, your hand resting over his chest. for a moment, a stunned sort of silence befalls the room. jihoon pulls away with a dazed, almost smug sort of grin, only for his smile to falter when soonyoung loudly says, "wow. you guys are, like, dedicated to this bit, huh?" jihoon is convinced he's going to throw himself out of a window if this keeps happening.

seokmin & mean guy who's only nice to you nice guy who's only mean to you.

seokmin doesn't know how to explain it, but you bring out the worst in him. everything about your existence seems to just vex him, from your pretty smile to your bright laugh. he's generous in doling out grins and pulling out the charm for everyone else; when you're around, though, it takes a tremendous amount of effort to be normal. you're feet away from him, interacting with someone else, and it's grinds on his nerves. in the corner of his eye, he sees you giggle; something crawls underneath his skin. so annoying, he thinks. laughing with someone that isn't me.

mingyu & cuddling for warmth too warm to cuddle.

it's been four days, twelve hours, and twenty-six minutes since mingyu last cuddled with you. the two of you are sweating right into your sheets, the infertile summer heat made doubly unbearable with the fact the air conditioner is busted. "can't we just cuddle for a little bit?" mingyu begs, his sleeveless shirt clinging to his skin with every small move. he shifts on the bed to glance at you, a pout firmly set on his handsome face. "i'll run us both an ice bath afterwards, i swear. but i'll die if i don't get to hold you tonight, love."

minghao & fake amnesia.

"except for the amnesia?!" "i know! i know!" minghao screeches, uncharacteristically panicked as he meets junhui's disbelieving gaze. "i— i panicked okay?! it's not my best work!" minghao hadn't known what to say, really. it wasn't everyday that you ran into the one who got away while grocery shopping. he'll be damned if he's dragged right back down under, so he had let out a little white lie of having memory loss. "god," minghao groans, running a hand over his face in frustration. "i need to start googling what webmd has to say about amnesia…"

seungkwan & dating your best friend's enemy's sibling.

this is seungkwan's favorite place in the world: the railing of your balcony, waiting for you to look his way. it might be easier to date if your brother didn't hate his guts, but seungkwan's more than willing to make a couple of concessions. you've made a romantic out of him, it seems, because now he can only think of shakespeare whenever you come to sneak him into you room. the sight of you puts an easy, almost giddy grin on his face. "my lady," he coos, quoting romeo and juliet because he knows it will make you laugh. "my love."

vernon & love hate at first sight.

vernon has never been a believer in reincarnation. that is, until he met you. he's convinced the two of you have met in some past life— how else to explain the immediate hatred he has for you, the moment he laid his eyes on you? it's an undeniable, searing kind of loathing, almost laughable in its intensity. no person should be allowed to feel this passionately about someone. and yet here he is, his typically cool demeanor cracking like ice in the face of your fire. you have him melting for you, in more ways than one.

chan & true love's hate's kiss.

"let's make this quick," chan snipes, even though he's in no position to be making demands when he's the one calling in a favor. you shoot him a withering glare but you comply all the same, because he promised he'd owe you absolutely anything after this. a stupid true hate's kiss. chan squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the worst smooch in the world— only to be jolted by the soft press of your mouth against his. you taste… sweet. huh. when you pull back, your part of the deal fulfilled, chan instinctively leans forward, chasing your lips.

[diamond-reads]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

nonidol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

2.3k words, fluff, comfort, reader is sick, technically a college au, light swearing, mentions of food, mentions of cold medication, tbh i know i advocate for platonic fics but i am also just a girl. so he does pine a little lol, slice-of-life-ish, barely proofread

a/n: there is like no plot, i just am feeling ooey-gooey about svt rn heh :') been watching so much gose recently and it's healing my soul

Yoon Jeonghan was many things, but oblivious was not one of them. “Oh my god, you're sick,” were his first words to you when you opened your apartment door. His voice was droning, perfectly unimpressed, but it masked the concern attempting to skirt its way to the surface. 

“It's not that” —your sorry attempt at denial crumbled like a house of cards as you turned away to cough into your elbow. The taste of metal lingered in the back of your throat and you winced, reaching into your bag to grab your water bottle. After swallowing down a generous helping, you said to him without looking him in the eye, “I'm fine.”

Jeonghan blinked. “That's really cute,” he replied with a thin smile. “Back inside.”

“But Jeonghan—”

“No.” He grabbed you firmly by your shoulders and steered you back into your apartment, his body waddling in behind you because of your balking in the doorway. He kicked the front door shut, shucking his shoes off with uncanny accuracy into an empty space on the shoe rack. “Shoes off, Yn-ah. Don't start an argument you won't win.”

You grumbled under your breath, but did as you were told. All the while, Jeonghan smoothed a hand over his jaw, performing mental gymnastics. How did you get sick? How much time did he have before he needed to get to campus? Could he reasonably make you soup before he needed to leave for his exam?

The first question was easy to answer. He internally smacked himself—last night: your runny nose, the vitamin C powder you added to your water, your shivers on the walk home from the library. Oh, fuck. He should have driven. Why did he make you both walk in that cold?

Guilt coursed through him as he directed you back into your bedroom. 

It was a quarter to 8, meaning he didn't have time to make you ramen and make it to his exam before the doors closed. 

“I have so much shit to do today” —another horrid cough rattled through you, and Jeonghan frowned to himself as he snatched the extra blanket out of your closet— “I can't… Hannie, there's so much I need to—”

“I know, Yn-ah,” he said softly, eyes sad and tender as he bundled you up in three layers until you were likely unable to unwrap yourself. He perched by your side, his palm grazing over your forehead to take your temperature. Hot. Not good. “But if you don't take care of yourself now, it'll only get worse.”

He glanced at his phone. Five to 8—he still had fifteen minutes. It was a blessing that you lived closer to campus than he did. 

“I hate when you're right,” you muttered. The lower half of your face was tucked beneath the edges of your blankets, so all he saw were your tired, glaring eyes. 

He smirked to himself, a fuzziness warming his chest. So petulant. “You always do,” he mused. “What did you have to do today? I'll try and help out as best I can.”

Your glare softened at the corners and your eyes flitted away from him. “It's okay. I'll deal with it all when I wake up. I—wait.” Your eyes shot wide open. “You have that exam today! You have to leave—what time is it?”

“Yah, I'll make it,” he laughed. “Worry about yourself.”

“You literally said last night that you were worried about failing—”

“And now I'm worried about you,” he countered. Satisfaction brought an impish twinkle to his eyes as you scowled at him again. “But fine, I'll leave if you insist.”

He rose from the edge of the bed, picking his backpack up to sling over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

With his back toward you, he could allow himself to grin. “What was that?” he called back innocently. 

“Don't fail.”

He huffed out another laugh as he reached the threshold of your bedroom doorway. Jeonghan wondered briefly if he should coax that thank you out of your mouth again, but he really did need to leave. It was awful. Everything in him was ready to throw away this exam to stay here with you. “Go to sleep, honey. I'll see you when you wake up.”

Three hours later, Jeonghan shouldered his way into your apartment, his backpack on his shoulders, his mind far away from that disgusting exam he finished, and his hands occupied with a grocery bag of items he picked up on his way here. When he left earlier, he had swiped your keys on the way out so he could let himself back in without waking you up. He dumped those very keys onto the table by the door, the gazillion key chains attached to the one carabiner clattering inelegantly loud. 

He glanced over at your closed door, hoping he didn't just wake you up. 

With a little less noise, he abandoned his backpack by the couch and made his way over to the kitchen. While he had made it in time to his exam, it had taken more willpower to center his attention on the exam itself rather than letting his mind wander to all the things he wanted to do after he was done. The to-do list spanned about five items: buy cold medicine and orange juice, decide on what food to make you, buy the ingredients for that food, persuade your TA to let him pick up your graded essay (that one, he saw on a sticky note by your desk), and come back to take care of you. 

(If the TA grading his exam took note of the small list he'd jotted down in the top corner of page five, no they didn't.)

There had been several ideas of what he could make you once he was free. He had stared at the row of vegetables in the produce department for a good ten minutes before he decided on something less usual. He could make instant ramen, but that didn't seem like the healthiest option for him to feed you. There was also seaweed soup—did he have the time to go to another store to find what he needed? No. 

His next great idea was something simple, but delicious: chicken noodle soup. 

Jeonghan rummaged around your cabinets, locating the things he needed—cutting board, knife—he opened a door and sighed to himself. So you did have pasta already. Great. 

He examined the box of dried elbow macaroni and compared it to the bowtie pasta he'd picked out. “Mine’s better,” he muttered, shelving your macaroni and bumping the cabinet closed. 

In the largest pot he could find, he brewed up a hearty chicken soup, using the bones from the rotisserie chicken he bought to add more richness to the broth's flavoring. Every carrot, onion, and celery stalk he sliced, and every piece of chicken he shredded, was done deftly and with great care. This was for you, after all, and if this soup could help you get better, then he would make it the best damn thing you'd ever tasted. 

There were plenty of things Jeonghan didn't want to do or weaseled his way out of, but he could be running on one hour of sleep, and he would still haul his ass up to make kimchi from scratch if you asked him to. 

He was stationed behind the stove, tasting the soup for adjustments, when he heard your bedroom door open. 

Jeonghan peered over his shoulder and smiled at the bundle of blankets waddling your way out into the main room, your hair sticking up in odd places, and your eyes still at half mast. “Good morning, sleepy head. How're you feeling?”

“Meh,” you said hoarsely, clearing your throat. You squinted at the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. “What're you making? It smells nice.”

“Hm? Oh, I made you some soup. Go take the medicine on the counter and sit down; I'll bring you a bowl.”

As he reached over to grab another pinch of salt, he heard you tearing open the box of cold medicine behind him. 

A moment passed by of quiet, but his heart leapt straight into his throat as he felt a soft weight rest against his back. “Thank you, Hannie,” you murmured, forehead pressed between his shoulders. 

There were about a dozen things running through his mind at the moment—things he could say, things he could do. He was an ounce of willpower away from melting on the spot, but the heat rising from the soup pot kept him upright. “Aish… thank me by getting better, okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgment and lifted yourself off his back. When you hobbled away to sit down at the table, Jeonghan couldn't brush away the feeling that the spot your head had rested was now cold. 

“How was the” —cough— “the exam?” 

Jeonghan glanced over at you as he carefully ladled soup into two bowls. He hummed, “Could've been better, but can't really do anything about it now.”

“I'm sure you did good,” you replied, holding out your hands like a kid waiting for their turn to get candy from a jar as Jeonghan made his way over to you with the soup. “You always say you did bad when you actually scored in the top ten percent.”

“Careful, honey, it's hot.” Jeonghan continued to hold the bowl even as you cupped it in your hands, until it safely reached the table. Only then did he seat himself down adjacent to you. “Yeah, well, you always said I should be more humble,” he joked.

You picked up your spoon and gestured at him with it. “Humility and lying are different things,” you said pointedly. “Anyways, thank you. This looks really yummy.”

“I don't lie,” he drawled with a twinkle in his eye. He leaned his cheek against his fist and watched as you took a spoonful and gently blew on the hot liquid. The delight that lit up your face was enough to make him happy for a century. He inclined his chin. “Good?”

“Very good. Sometimes I forget that you're good at cooking, too.”

“Not like Mingyu though,” he chuckled and brought a spoonful up to his lips. 

You shot him a look. “You don't always have to compare yourself, Hannie-ah. I'm not talking about Mingyu right now.”

Maybe I just want to make sure, he thought, then brushed it under that large, metaphorical rug in his mind. Jeonghan gave a half-hearted shrug. 

Your mouth flattened into a displeased line. His grin widened. 

When the both of you finished as many helpings as you had the appetite for, Jeonghan graciously offered to wash the dishes. He practically anchored you to the couch by wrapping you in yet another blanket—it was a double-edged sword; you were quite cute like that and he had half the mind to ditch the dishes. Once done with his task, he plucked out a dose of cold medication to take for himself, as well. 

You eyed him from the couch as he swallowed the pills with a glass of orange juice. “Did I get you sick already?” you asked, your voice having become more nasally from your stuffy nose. 

“Not yet,” he said, “it's just preventative measures since I'm gonna be hanging around you.”

“You're not leaving?” 

Your words were one thing, but the way you peered over the back of the couch at him and the upward intonation in your voice told him something else. He smiled to himself as he walked over to the couch with his juice. “No, I was going to help you finish your work for the day, but if you want me to leave, I—”

“Only if you're not afraid of getting sick,” you said quickly. 

He sighed with an air of melodrama. “I suppose I can stay after all.” He brought out his laptop and the essay he finagled from your TA, vaguely mentioning something about his careful white lies in order to accomplish his mission. It was truly something only Jeonghan could pull off and get away with. 

The first item on your to-do list was to send out a couple emails. 

Jeonghan felt the weight of your head fall onto his shoulder, and he glanced down at you in amusement. “You're not falling asleep on me, are you?” he teased, his fingers paused from the email he was typing out while you dictated the wording. 

You shifted your head. “No, I'm still awake. Do you think this sounds too bubbly?”

“It’s not too bubbly,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “But the thing is you're not this agreeable in real life—aish! Haha, hey! Don't hit me!”

He could imagine your cute, little scowl. “I am incredibly agreeable.”

“Yes, yes.” Jeonghan lightly pat your head. “You're very lovely, Yn-ah.”

You chose to ignore the impish tone in his voice. It was what he wanted you to do anyway—believe that he thought you were lovely.  

It was difficult to parse out how much time passed, but at some point, the TV was turned on to a random channel playing some 90s sitcom, and his laptop was ditched on the coffee table. Jeonghan's legs ended up sprawled across the length of the couch while your layers of blankets covered both of you. Your head rested comfortably on his chest as he continued to watch TV in silent contentment.

Jeonghan was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't oblivious to the fact that you took the wrong cold medicine. The box he bought had both daytime and nighttime meds, the latter of which contained melatonin to aid with uninterrupted sleep. He didn't say anything earlier when he realized, but it wasn't like he could say anything now. 

He glanced down at your face, his hand cupping the back of your head with too much tenderness for friendship. You were asleep; there was nothing he could do, no jokes to make or fun to poke. 

Him, his thoughts, and you. 

But this was fine. He was happy and warm like the perfect bowl of soup filling an empty stomach, and he had no intention of leaving until he knew that you were better. As his eyes slowly drooped closed, he sank further into the blankets and your hold, soul nourished.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed <3

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @floatingpluto @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @eunseok-s @bless-311 @leaz-kpop-life @fluorescentloves @thesunsfullmoon @haechansbbg @kpopjackie @jundundun @http-gyu @mars101 @moonyswolf @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @thecarnivaloflies @p-d1ddy @thatonedemigodfromseoul @foivetimesthecharm

[diamond-reads]

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

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You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it.  There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work. 

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength. 

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot. 

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.  

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble. 

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles. 

“One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy. 

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu hums along to the radio the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door. 

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. 

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool. 

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him. 

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out. 

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together. 

You want to kiss him. 

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car. 

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips. 

“Where are you going?” you call. 

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach. 

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going. 

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers. 

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating. 

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of? 

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours. 

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often. 

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant  is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite. 

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded. 

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen. 

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?” 

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches. 

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts. 

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines. 

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook. 

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point. 

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen. 

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now. 

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one. 

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time. 

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck. 

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there. 

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy. 

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.  

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks. 

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne. 

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot. 

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest. 

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze. 

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world. 

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile. 

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute. 

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week. 

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter. 

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending. 

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration. 

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you  and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone. 

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock. 

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years. 

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more. 

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims. 

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff. 

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?” 

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic. 

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ‘congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.” 

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass. 

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest. 

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision. 

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him. 

“You’re so good— fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet. 

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

taglist: @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

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[diamond-reads]

xinganhao 🌟 shared a moment with you: "wonwoo x reader" 🔞

you never thought you'd be the type to sleep around with a co-worker, but when that co-worker is the hot guy from IT? well. you suppose you could make some exceptions. mdni; suggestive themes. an expansion of my wonwoo fic, blindsided.

[diamond-reads]

an ode to hands and voice

✰ — boo seungkwan x reader ✷ — summary: a moment of seungkwan fucking you, inspired by his hands and voice. ✰ — wc is approx. 1.3k ✷ — genre: smut, established relationship ✰ — warnings: soft sex, intimate sex. boo seungkwan hand porn. unprotected sex, cumming inside. ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: requested by @strxwberry-skiess !! i hope you enjoy and i hope i did your request justice! this is a part of my follower celebration. also tagging fellow seungkwan enthusiast @haologram

"deep breath in."

you inhale, breath shaking against the stillness of the room.

"and out."

you exhale, body relaxing. as your body decompresses, sagging back against the bed, seungkwan pushes in.

you actively try not to tense back up as his dick pushes into your cunt. despite him having prepared you, having spent what felt like ages fucking his fingers in and out, in and out, you can still feel the slight burn of your pussy stretching around his cock. your toes curl and you can't help but twist your fingers into the sheets, biting down on your lip.

seungkwan lets out a shuttering gasp, his grip on the sheets on either side of your head tightening. he hangs his head as he stills his hips, his nose pressing against the curve of your cheek.

"gotta relax, baby," he says, voice deep and raspy. when seungkwan came home from practice his voice was already a little fucked. he got halfway through a cup of tea topped with honey before you, needy and pathetic in that too-cute way, stumbled into his arms.

and fuck, if you weren't cute and pathetic right not beneath him.

"you gotta let my cock in," seungkwan cooed, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw. "gotta relax your pussy, baby."

you nod, turning and pressing your face against his. you tried to mold yourself back into the bed; tried to make yourself present. the warmth of seungkwan's body was flooding into you, trapped between him and the blanket beneath you. the mattress was soft and plush, because life was full of denials but seungkwan would be damned if he denied himself a cloud-like bed to fall into every night.

you relaxed back into the bed.

seungkwan could feel your cunt loosen around him. no longer did your pussy have a tight grip on him, the sort that he was greatly reluctant to try and press against. he never wanted to hurt you; never wanted this to hurt.

and so, with your cunt relaxed around him, seungkwan continues to push in.

you arch up against seungkwan as he fucks into you, breasts pressing against him. he slips his hand down to one of your thighs, and then moves your thigh up, giving him more room to settle between your legs. your knee knocks against his side.

"keep spreading," seungkwan says. he settles against you, cock fully sheathed, pelvis pressed against your thighs. "let me move."

"don't," you gasp out. your pussy clamps down on his cock, and seungkwan can't help the throaty groan that escapes him.

"won't," he says, dropping his face to the crook of your neck. he breathes against your skin, inhaling your scent. "won't move 'til you say it's good."

you move one of your hands to his shoulder, fingertips pressing into his flesh.

"feels big," you say, voice breaking.

"feels," seungkwan echoes back. "you saying i'm not big?"

you roll your eyes at him, hand sliding up his shoulder. you settle your hand along his jaw. "you know what i mean."

seungkwan hums. he settles against you, relaxing into your body in turn. seungkwan takes a moment to admire you.

he moves his hand to your face. seungkwan trails his fingers, long and thin, along the soft curve of your cheek. his nails gently scrape along your skin, and seungkwan can't help but follow the path of his fingers. he slides his forefinger, lightly and slowly, to your chin.

seungkwan's touch is as light as a butterfly's kiss. it's the sort of loving, gentle touch that belongs only to that of a lover; of an admirer.

and how he admires you.

seungkwan trails his finger to your lips. he looks at the pale shade of his nail and compares it to the lovely hue of your lips. he watches as the plump flesh of your lips bends beneath the pressure of his finger, as your lips part, gently, in response.

seungkwan can't help but push his finger between your lips. your mouth is just as warm as your cunt, and just as he had slid his dick into your pussy he slides his finger into your mouth. your mouth is warm and wet and welcoming.

you take his finger eagerly, as if it were his cock into your cunt. he doesn't press his finger all the way in. instead he settles his finger along your tongue. his cock throbs as you suck at his finger, your lashes fluttering.

"fucking pretty," seungkwan murmurs. "you're so fucking pretty."

reluctantly, seungkwan removes his finger from your mouth. he trails his fingers down the column of your throat, watching. he continues to move his hand along your body, until his fingers are cradling the edge of your tit.

he can't help but follow the curve, his thumb gently swiping. impulsive, seungkwan goes to your nipple. he slides a finger on either side of your nipple, tugging softly.

your mouth opens in a sweet gasp.

"kwannie," you call out, arms wrapping around his shoulders. you shift beneath him, moving so your legs are wrapped around him.

seungkwan tugs at your nipple again. "ready?"

you nod.

seungkwan begins to pull from your pussy. he moves slowly, cock sweetly dragging against your walls. the slide is easy due to how wet you are, and he adores how your cunt flutters around his dick.

once the head of his dick is at your entrance seungkwan rolls his hips towards you. the movement is fluid, a smooth rock back into your pussy. he rolls his hips as he fucks you, the motion constant.

he's addicted to the way your pussy grips him, how smooth the slide is. seungkwan's hand grips at your tit, nails digging in slightly, lost in the velvet feel of your cunt.

"feels good," he gasps out. he can feel the rasp of his voice, can feel the dryness of his throat. "feels so fucking good, sweetheart."

your body responds so beautifully to him. your body arches up into him, your legs tighten around him in an effort to keep him close. your mouth is open in a constant moan, eyes squeezing shut.

seungkwan can feel his balls tightening, his dick throbbing. he wants to cum in your pussy so bad, wants to fill you up so much.

he can't help but let his thrusts carry away. seungkwan begins to fuck you earnestly. the slap of his thrusts are loud, sharp and stinging. he wants to cum, wants to see his cum spilling fro your cute pussy —

your legs begin to weaken around him, falling to the side. seungkwan moves his hand from your tit. he loops his arms underneath your legs, hooking your legs up over his arms.

he fucks and thrusts and feels his heavy balls tighten against him. you feel so fucking good; you look gorgeous; you sound divine.

you moan out his name, broken and high.

seungkwan feels his balls clench once more, and then he's spilling inside of you. it's like a string pulled taut has been cut. he keeps fucking you as he cums, relentlessly with one goal in mind.

even once he stops cumming he doesn't pull out. seungkwan lets his dick soften in your pussy. he moves his hand down to your cunt, releasing one of your legs. two of his fingers find your clit easily. seungkwan begins to rub at your clit, cunt drenched from your juices and his cum.

"you gotta cum," he says, voice hoarse. he frames your clit with his fingers, rubbing at the sensitive area around it. your pussy continues to clench down around his spent dick, and he has half a mind to pull out, the sensation bordering on too much, but fuck —

you cum with a loud cry, lips curling and torso arching off of the bed. seungkwan groans in response and lays his body on yours, keeping you caught between him and the bed as he continues to rub at your clit, pushing you through orgasm.

"that's it," he moans, throat sore from misuse, "cum for me, baby. cum."

[diamond-reads]

✏️ scared freshmen chan x reader.

prompt: "helping a scared freshman despite also being a scared freshman." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, cute & clingy!chan, slice-of-life. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @wollycobbl3-blr!

dino's declassified uni survival guide .ᐟ

survival guide to: making friends

attend the freshman year orientation event, no matter how lame you think it may be. sit through the whole thing. make small talk with your seatmate. when they assign you a 'buddy', jump at the chance of morally obligated friendship.

fuck trying to be cool and chill. 'be yourself' is painfully cliche advice, but they were on to something. what's the point of trying to act nonchalant or putting your best foot forward? be yourself, and you'll find the people who can appreciate that.

go to the school events. recruitment week? check. pep rally? check. going alone is alright. going with your orientation-sanctioned friend is preferable. the two of you can sit through the whole thing judging other students and making comments about the performances. maybe you can make more friends by chatting up the other students around you, but, honestly? each other is plenty fine.

survival guide to: getting around

have a copy of the school map saved on your phone. keep it in your favorites folder. that way, you don't have to stop at those blown-up maps at every corner or so.

test out the advice of your peers. sometimes, their advice is just a little more reliable— they're coming from places of experience, after all. take, for example, the recommendations from your orientation buddy. take their suggestions to heart. the cafeteria they think is best, the coffee order they swear by. very serious business.

you'll eventually get a little more familiar with the ins and outs of campus. you'll carve out your own spaces and make your own set of friends. if some people eventually fall out with you, that's fine. if you still take a wrong turn every so often, that's fine, too. keep in touch with the people that you really do like. and don't panic about getting lost. sometimes, taking the wrong turn can lead to some pretty exciting stuff.

survival guide to: ... falling in love?

the turn of feeling something for your first friend at uni isn't exactly what i was referring to, but it is what it is. my initial advice still stands: come as you are. if you've always been a little annoying, if you don't know how to shut up and you're shameless in your affections, then keep that up. why be someone who you're not? what if they fall in love with that charade instead of who you really are?

some differences may be warranted, especially if you want to progress the relationship further. friends to lovers is a little complicated; the lines, tending to blur. flirt. or: attempt to flirt. remind them of how attractive you are. find ways to be around them, whether it's heading out for a beer or 'running' into them after their last class of the day. gifts are okay, but don't overdo it. maybe find some occasion for it, in case they ask why.

it's terrifying. being a freshman. making friends. falling in love [with a friend]. and yet i keep going back to yet another cliché: just because you feel fear, doesn't mean you can't do it. do it afraid. do it scared shitless. walk them home. give them the flowers. package the confession in a joke, if you must, but confess. put your heart in their hands and trust that it will be safe, there. that the gamble will pay off. that you— maybe, just maybe— will be loved right back.

survival guide to: dating

tba. i'm still figuring this one out. :-)

written by lee chan (2024).