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PROTOCOL | choi seungcheol {part two}

SYNOPSIS. Choi Seungcheol has always been about structure, authority, and control, loyal to his duty in a city where criminal situations become a matter of life or death. On the other hand, you’re reckless𑁋seemingly guided more by your instinct and heart than the rules you’re meant to follow. But as duty forces you both together, Seungcheol finds the protocol he’s bound to stand by begin to bend. PAIRING. sergeant/tactical officer!choi seungcheol x rookie officer!fem!reader (ft. officer!lee jihoon but he's mentioned as a plot device, mention of detective!wonwoo) GENRE. coworkers/ideological enemies to lovers, angst, smut (minors dni 🔞), fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, action, police au WARNINGS. unrealistic portrayal of a police department, guns, violence, blood, injuries (both cheol & reader get hurt at some point), cursing, scars, crimes being committed (robbery, arson, attempted murder, domestic abuse, car chase, illegal narcotics), suicide-by-cop situation, instances of police brutality, workplace toxicity & misogyny, reader taking shit from NO ONE, basically reader vs the system, discussions of trauma, alcohol consumption, kissing, cheol having dirty thoughts; smut warnings: kissing, they almost do the deed on his desk lmao, making out, oral (f + m. receiving), fingering, pet names (sergeant/rookie lol, baby, brat, sweetheart, good girl), body worship, scar worship, praise + slight degradation + dirty talk, grinding, soft dom!seungcheol to switchy!seungcheol, cheol Begging, Sergeant/Rookie authority kink, riding, unprotected piv sex, creampie, aftercare, lmk if i miss anything!! still getting used to these smut tugs 😭 WORD COUNT. 19.8k (for part two); 37k (in total)

notes: HELLO EVERYONE and welcome to part two of protocol !!! tysm for being patient with me and i hope you all enjoy this final part to the story. as always thank u to @slytherinshua for reading this over and @etherealyoungk for being so supportive as always. i'm so sad that it's over :< also the final scene is over 6k words. dont ask why. which is prob why this shit is so long but idk i just kept yapping in each scene. but i hope this gives you all the conclusion you hoped for and pls don't forget to reblog and tell me all ur thoughts! thank u guys for giving this fic so much love and support i'm so grateful for all of u 🥹

part one | part two

You didn’t know what to expect when the precinct called you in.

It’s been two weeks since you got notice of the indefinite suspension, and you were honestly beginning to make peace with the idea that you weren’t going back. You figured this visit was it. The formal letter. The final nail in the coffin. Or another drawn out conversation about “appropriate conduct”, about optics and liabilities, and whatever excuse they’d use to keep their hands clean.

So when you show up at the precinct at 0900 hours, you’re dressed in your regular clothes𑁋a pair of clean jeans, a plain black shirt, and a worn jacket. You’re sitting awkwardly in an empty conference room alone, your thoughts wondering if Seungcheol had any say in what this is.

Not that it should matter, right? Not after the kiss or how you slammed the door in his face and called him a coward like some pissed off teenager. You’re not proud of that, but pride hasn’t meant much these days, especially after getting your badge taken.

It’s 0907 when the door bursts open, and you stiffen in your seat when you catch sight of Lieutenant Hwang𑁋because of course he’s the one baring you with the bad news. You’re already glaring directly through him when he closes the door behind, not even bothering to take a seat. He holds out a manila folder to you, a stern look to his face.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Hwang begins grimly. “You’re being reinstated. Effective on Monday.”

You blink puzzledly down at the manila folder in your hands, not opening it yet. “What? I thought𑁋”

“Sergeant Choi made a rather… adamant case for you,” Hwang interjects. “He submitted a formal request to the board to reevaluate your suspension, attached a revised report of the incident, and included a very compelling written recommendation on your behalf.”

You shift your focus away from the begrudging tone of Hwang and open the letter. Inside, it contained your reinstatement documents, your name and badge number, a note from IA confirming the final disciplinary review on your suspension had concluded, and a memo at the very bottom that you nearly gloss over.

Officer Y/N L/N will be set to report under Sergeant Lee Jihoon when reinstated.

Your heart halts into your chest.

“I’m being reassigned?” You ask quietly. “Did he agree to this?”

Hwang’s eyes narrow a fraction. “He didn’t object to it.”

Your grip on the folder tightens a little more. He didn’t object to it. Somehow, that makes it entirely worse than being told he agreed to it.

“So this is… what?” A bitter scoff leaves you. “Punishment for my wrongdoings?”

“No,” Hwang says curtly. “It’s a correction.”

“Of what?” You snap back. “You’ve hated me since day one, Lieutenant. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“And does that matter now?” Hwang takes a deliberate step closer to you, looming over you slightly with his fists clenched. “You’re lucky you even got your badge back. Most rookies wouldn’t recover from a stunt like that. Hell, most wouldn’t have a sergeant jeopardise his own career just to keep your name from being in the disciplinary folder.”

His words zip your mouth up. But he doesn’t stop there.

“You want to know why I dislike you, officer?” Hwang tests sharply. “Because I’ve seen Choi Seungcheol follow protocol down to the damn letter for years. And then you walk in and he’s suddenly second-guessing himself. You distracted him.”

You rise to your feet at that. “You think I’m just a distraction to him?”

“I think he could’ve gone farther without you around his neck.”

“And I think you’re a coward for hiding behind a system that punishes empathy and coddles protocol.” This sends a wave of fury to burn up your spine. “And if that makes me a problem𑁋if reminding Seungcheol what it’s like to care is a problem𑁋then maybe you’re just more scared of what I represent than what I’ve done.”

His eyes burn holes through you, expression unreadable.

“You’ll report to Sergeant Lee on Monday at 0700,” Hwang reminds you coldly. “That’s non-negotiable.”

You stare at him, your chest heaving heavily. You shove the manila folder under your arm and storm towards the door, shoulder colliding with Hwang as you reach for the doorknob. You don’t twist it open just yet, instead turning around to add in:

“I don’t care what you think about him, Lieutenant,” You speak over your shoulder. “But Sergeant Choi is a great cop. With or without me here. So don’t you ever imply that I was some liability chained around his neck.”

You don’t look at him again when you leave the room. You’re already heading towards Seungcheol’s office before your mind can even register it. The tension of the precinct threatens to grapple at your limbs, but you refuse to let it slow you down. Hwang’s words keep repeating in your head like a broken radio.

The blinds are shut in his office when you approach, and you hardly think about anything else as you push open the door and step inside. But all you’re met with is emptiness.

His chair is facing the wrong way with his coat sprung over it, papers strewn all over his desk in a cluttered mess, and a half-empty mug of coffee perched next to a closed laptop. The door clicks shut behind you as your boots click against the floor. The silence of the space swallows you whole, and even though he isn’t here, it’s comforting, in a way, like he’s still lingering around.

You approach his desk slowly, unsure of what you’re trying to look for. You take a moment to organise the bombshell of papers on his desk, setting them in a neat stack next to his laptop. Then your eyes drift up slightly, and that’s when you catch a few small pictures frames half-hidden away.

One shows a younger him, fresh out of academy, grinning uncharacteristically with his dimples showing and his arms around a few other members of his squad. Another is a solo shot of him in dark lighting, illuminated only by the flash of the camera. One of his hands is clutched around a large glass of beer with the other tucked in his pocket. The last one is him standing next to another man in front of a cruiser, slightly older, but the familiarity of it sparks a memory in your head𑁋his old partner. The one he told you about.

He’s… happy in all these. Genuinely, painfully, happy.

You almost knock the frames off the desk when the door suddenly opens, making you freeze up instantly. When you look up, that’s when you see him.

Seungcheol stands just as frozen as you in the doorway. He’s in his uniform, hair a bit mussed like he had been running through it all day, some papers tucked under his armpit, eyes widened for a moment before he realises that it’s you.

“Hey,” he greets you warily, stepping fully inside the room and closing the door behind him.

You step away from his desk, a pit of guilt forming in your stomach. “Sorry. I wasn’t snooping. Just…”

His gaze tracks down to where you’ve been looking, expecting some defensive clapback from him, but his features only soften. “It’s alright.”

You watch silently as he sheds off his bulletproof vest and duty belt, some signs of exhaustion lingering in the way his limbs move with much less coordination and energy than usual.

“Long day?” You ask him.

Seungcheol gives a stiff nod. “Violent Crimes went through hell today. Then had to threaten a guy for CCTV footage to give to Detective Jeon.”

“Detective Jeon?”

“Jeon Wonwoo,” he clarifies, tone seemingly careful. “A close friend of mine from the academy.”

You nod absently at that, only half-listening because your attention is entirely swallowed by the man in front of you and all the tension that’s been persisting since that fateful night in front of the door to your apartment. A night neither of you have bothered to speak about.

A brush of warmth hits your backside as Seungcheol walks behind you to set some papers on his desk. You tense out of habit from the closeness, like your body is remembering the way pressed you up against the wall and his mouth molding onto yours in a moment of desperation.

Finally, you say, “Thank you.”

Seungcheol pauses his movements. You shuffle your body around to face him, only to not expect how suddenly close he’s standing in front of you.

His eyes flit down to you. “For what?”

“For the letter,” You respond solemnly. “For talking to the board. For… fighting to reinstate me.”

Seungcheol’s shoulder sag just a fraction at that, before he straightens again, defaulting back to his careful posture.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says. “I did what I should’ve done.”

“But still,” You retort, a genuine tone to your words. “Thank you.”

Seungcheol crosses his arms together at that. He isn’t sure what he’s doing right now, and you looking at him like you’d bend the world for him isn’t helping at all. The entire time during your absence he’s stayed up nights feeling unsure of how he’ll be able to make eye contact with you without feeling the gut-wrenching guilt and fear.

But here he is𑁋looking at you, and he doesn’t want to stop.

“I can tell you’re thinking about it,” he says.

You bite down at your bottom lip at that.

“Did you know?” You ask him quietly. “About the reassignment?”

Seungcheol exhales slowly. “No, I didn’t know until this morning.” He steps a smidge closer into your space. “But I expected it.”

“And you didn’t object to it?”

“I did,” Seungcheol responds firmly, with no stutter in his words at all. “I figured Hwang told you the latter, didn’t he?”

Your head drops at that. “Yeah.”

“I told them you were more adept at working with me than anyone else,” he affirms. “Told them you were mine to train, mine to be responsible for. But they framed the entire thing as a compromise𑁋said that for you to be reinstated, I had to accept the reassignment.”

Your heart batters in your chest at his words𑁋mine to train, mine to be responsible for. Mine.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Seungcheol says defeatedly. “So I accepted it, thought about it more, and figured… maybe it was the right choice.”

You flinch at that, lips tightening up inquisitively. “Right choice for who, exactly?”

He doesn’t answer. His silence, again, answers your question for you.

You only prod into him even further. “Did it feel like the right choice for you?”

Seungcheol stares at you for a few moments too long, lingering over the frustration𑁋that fire you have that scares him more than anything else𑁋etched into your features that makes him ache to cross oceans just for you.

“No,” he says simply. “It felt like hell, rookie.”

Your heart jumps at the acknowledgment. You half-expected him to deflect, or somehow fall back into some version that says this was necessary or it’s better this way, but he doesn’t. He gives you the raw, vulnerable, and ugly truth straight from his core.

“Because I’ve seen the way this place tears people up, how this place tears people up like you, so I believed that reassigning you was the right choice so you’d have a clean slate.” His breath hitches. “And I couldn’t come to you because I felt like a hypocrite. A so-called sergeant who enforces protocol but can’t manage himself for five fucking minutes when it comes to you.”

You don’t say anything yet. You just let him continue, because he needs to.

“I couldn’t even drive home after that night,” Seungcheol confesses shakily. “Drove around the city like a damn coward trying to forget what it felt like to have you under me. Kissing me. Wanting me.”

Your pulse spikes at that. “And did it work?”

His mouth twitches imperceptibly. “No.”

A round of silence blooms between the two of you. The air inside his office suddenly feels all too hot, like your brain finally registering how close he is to you now and your body begging for his touch again. His gaze is dark on you, and you feel yourself being swallowed whole from its intensity.

“All I thought about was how you looked at me that night,” Seungcheol whispers. “Like you wanted me to take you right there in the fucking hallway if I asked. But you… You were drunk.”

He says it like it’ll invalidate everything that happened on that night, as if saying that would negate the way your hands were desperately fisted in his shirt, the way his body was pressing yours against the wall while he let out sounds that made him feel something for once.

You let out a snideful chuckle.

“I was tipsy,” You correct him with a teasing lift of your lips. “And even if I wasn’t drunk, I would’ve let you.”

That sends a shiver of heat running up and down his spine. Seungcheol is practically crowding your space now𑁋so close to the point your hips bump against his desk. His fingers twitch at his sides like he’s really, really trying to fight the urge to grab you and show you everything that he’s thought about doing to you since that night. All while you’re staring up at him like you’re almost insisting for him to.

His eyes flit down to your mouth and back up to your eyes.

“You just got reinstated,” he states cautiously. “And you’re already causing too much trouble with that big mouth of yours.”

You tilt your head innocently. “Technically, I’m not reinstated until Monday, Sergeant.”

A slow, dangerous smile curls at the corners of Seungcheol’s lips. He reaches in and cages you in between his arms, hands grasping tightly at his desk. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” You hum freely, as if being inside the literal precinct doesn’t erode the fact you’re standing mere inches away from a man who can command an entire squad of officers. “I’m just a civilian in your office right now.”

You don’t break eye contact with him as you say that. You don’t let yourself back down. And Seungcheol looks like he’s about five seconds away from giving in. The tips of his combat boots brush just shy of your shoes, just like that night back in the hallway. His lips are pressed tightly together in restraint and disbelief of your boldness𑁋at this point, he should be used to it by now𑁋yet his eyes are telling you something else entirely.

Taking in a defeated breath, Seungcheol settles a somewhat shaky hand at your waist, roaming under your jacket and knotting at the edges of your shirt. Any distance between you both is completely erased. You’re pressed flushed between his chest and the wall of his desk. You aren’t even sure how he’s managing to stand when his body is wound so tightly together.

“Tell me to stop,” Seungcheol insists softly.

You stare at him dead in the eyes. “Don’t.”

“Tell me what you want then,” he prods further. “To touch you right here? In the middle of my office?”

Your lips quiver at that, and you reach down to cover his hand with yours, slowly guiding it underneath your shirt. The second he makes contact with your bare skin, Seungcheol groans like he’s been punched to the gut, like everything’s hit him all at once.

His thumb draws slow arcs over your waist, making your stomach tighten. It’s the contrast between his rough skin and the softness of yours that wrecks you instantly.

“Fuck, rookie…”

You reach up with your free hand to tenderly cup his cheek. “Kiss me, Sergeant.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate after that. The kiss that follows is far from gentle. The first you both shared was something out of desperation and your stupid, drunken thoughts, but this𑁋this is hunger.

His mouth moves against yours with so much fierceness it knocks the breath out of your lungs right away, but you don’t stop him. You let him. Your fingers dig into the material of his uniform to tug him impossibly closer, making the desk creak quietly as his thigh slots perfectly in between your legs.

A moan leaves your mouth as his hand trails higher under your shirt, his calloused fingertips dragging a trail of fire over your ribcage, stomach, before stopping just short of your bra. His lips refuse to leave yours even as he hoists you up effortlessly on top of his desk, your legs welcoming his body in between them gratefully. A few papers fly off the desk and you almost tip over one of his picture frames, but there’s more pressing things at the matter.

Seungcheol then takes a momentary detour to kiss his way from your jaw and to your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin. You tilt your head back to give him more access. Your hands are everywhere on him now, desperate to feel skin. God, he’s solid everywhere, and it makes your head spin at the thought.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he rasps against your neck. “I missed you.”

The new nickname sends a wave of arousal through you𑁋Seungcheol doesn’t even realise he said it. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his teeth graze upon your pulse point, your hips instinctively grinding more into his thigh to chase more of that friction, stealing simultaneously breaths out of both your mouths. You can feel how worked up he is too.

“Missed you sitting next to me in the squad…” He pushes the jacket you’re wearing off your shoulders as his lips journey lower to your collarbone, making you card a hand through his hair to urge him deeper. “...missed the way you pissed me off, the way your bratty mouth challenged me, the way you stood your ground in front of these assholes…”

A quiet gasp leaves you as he kisses every centimetre of new skin that he finds. Your fingers tug harsher at his hair like you’re trying to imprint him on your skin, causing a dark chuckle to rumble out of him. He tightens his grip on you.

“And I definitely missed…” Seungcheol continues roughly, smiling along your throat. “...that pretty fire in your eyes when you’re about to break protocol again.”

You arch more into him at that, eliciting out another low laugh from him that sends shivers down to your core.

“Now, you’re sitting like a good rookie on my desk,” he mutters wantonly as he presses his thumb deeper into the curve of your waist, rolling his hips into yours once just so you can feel what you’re doing to him. “Or are you going to keeping acting like a brat and let me fuck the attitude out of you?”

You inhale sharply at that, a moan tumbling out of your lips that only encourages your grinding on his leg even more. You’ve never heard him speak so openly now that you’ve seemed to have freed him of his shackles and released a side of him that you’ve caught mere glimpses of.

Never in a million years would you believe the fact that right now Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is about to ruin you for anyone else𑁋and that you would willingly let him. Too many lines have been crossed for you both to be Sergeant and rookie right now. It’s a weird, fucked-up mix of want and resentment that shouldn’t be together, but somehow, the finished product comes together dangerously perfect.

Your hands impatiently fly down to his belt, trying to blindly loosen the buckle as he captures your mouth once again. He bites down lightly on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before diving back in for more.

However, before you’re able to undo the clasp to his belt, three firm and impatient knocks at his door slices through the tension in the air. It makes both of you freeze as if a bomb went off.

“Sergeant Choi?”

Seungcheol practically tears himself off of you, hands flying to your hips to steady you. You’re both completely motionless for a few moments, caught between a delicate blend of desire and a laugh threatening to bubble out of your throat.

“Sergeant Choi?” a voice from the other side calls again. “Captain wants a word. Said it’s urgent.”

Seungcheol’s head falls onto your shoulder with a low groan, breathing hard against you like he’s trying to force all of the blood out of cock and back to his brain. You can tell he’s failing wholeheartedly in the process.

“We’re so fucked,” he mumbles heavily.

You barely manage the giggle rising out of you as one last knock hits the door.

“Sergeant Choi𑁋”

“I’ll be right there,” Seungcheol replies back impressively calmly, yet there’s a subtle gravel to his voice. “Give me a minute.”

There’s a brief pause, before the sounds of footsteps retreat away from the door. Seungcheol curses to himself again, then picks his head back up to check on you. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes and pupils blown wide with heat, taking in your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and how your legs are still hooked around his waist like you don’t intend to let go.

“God, you’re trouble,” he mumbles hoarsely, moving to gently help you into your jacket and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You know that, right?”

“I’ve always been that way,” You whisper, lips teasingly ghosting over his. “It just took you this long to finally accept it𑁋to accept me.”

Seungcheol’s mouth twitches at your sass, his focus flitting down to your lips and back up again. “That mouth of yours is a real dangerous weapon, huh?”

You give an innocent tilt of your head. “You gonna arrest me for it, Sergeant?”

Seungcheol huffs out a snarky chuckle at that, gazing at you for a few more beats before pulling away from you. He glances down at himself and fastens his belt, and you gingerly hop off his desk, your body still prickling with heat from his mouth on your neck as you straighten down your shirt. You both hesitate to meet each other’s eyes as you fix away the remnants of an almost.

It takes a minute for him to remember what he was tasked to do, like the heat of the earlier moments completely tarnished his thoughts. You watch as he organises the files in his desk as orderly as he can and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair.

“You should go,” he finally says. “Before someone decides to barge through that door.”

You nod at that, yet your feet refuse to budge off the floor. Seungcheol doesn’t move either.

“You’ll like Jihoon,” he tells you. “He’s sharp. Keeps to himself a lot. Doesn’t tolerate bullshit. But he’s fair and listens.”

You can’t tell if it’s reassurance in his tone as it sure as hell doesn’t come off that way.

“Think he’ll handle me better than you?” You ask.

The corner of his mouth quirks just slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“We almost had sex on your desk, Sergeant,” You claim boldly, crossing your arms together. “I think I’m allowed to be a little cocky.”

Seungcheol gives you a long, pointed look from that. A kind of look that basically says something along the lines of, you infuriate my life but in the best way possible. He can’t even deny it𑁋you both almost lost yourselves completely in his damn office out of all places, happening at the end of an already turbulent week. For both of you.

He swipes a hand down his face with a sigh. “You’re lucky I tolerate you, rookie.”

“That sounds awfully close to an I like you,” You return back with a mischievous grin.

Seungcheol levels that with a half-hearted glare, not answering at first.

“Just admit it.” You step back up to him with a certain boastful charm. “You like me, don’t you?”

You can practically read his stare so clearly now, like he’s considering lying. A flicker of deflection abrupts his features for a moment, before he sighs and lets his shoulders drop down in defeat.

“...Yes.”

The rawness of it makes your smug expression dissolve into something soft and warm. It shouldn’t have hit as hard as it does. “Yeah?”

“You wanted honesty,” Seungcheol deadpans in his typical composed manner as if he just didn’t drop a bombshell on you. “And if you stay in here any longer, we’ll both end up suspended.”

A giddy smile blooms its way across your face. You step up to him one last time, reaching up to grab at his collar to pull him in for one last kiss. Seungcheol lets himself fall into it. It’s a kiss that screams of finality, of both promise and warning, of reality.

When you pull away, you angle your head slightly to whisper in his ear, “I’ll see you Monday, Sergeant.”

There’s a skip in your step as he watches you walk away from him, opening the door and slipping through the crack, disappearing back out into the noise of the precinct.

Seungcheol gazes around his office for a few silent moments, raking over the few papers still scattered near his feet, the half-empty coffee cup that’s definitely gone cold by now, and then to the somewhat crooked pictures frames staring back at him pensively. He smooths down his uniform shirt one last time as if that will definitely wipe away any last trace you left. But it doesn’t. Far from it. The ghost of your presence has basically found its home within every crevice of him now.

His desk still smells like you as he leaves his office.

It’s 2238 hours by the time Seungcheol arrives back in the precinct.

Most of the precinct is quiet by now, with the exception of a few receptionists and front desk officers that he greets casually on the way through the dull corridors. His body aches a little more than usual, not necessarily from something physical though, he thinks. He doesn’t really know how to put this kind of ache into words.

The day had been mostly normal for him, surprisingly: a few traffic stops he had to supervise because of culprits being uncooperative and disrupting the public, a call about a possible break-in which turned out to be nothing but a drunk neighbour trying to get into the wrong house, and a couple of meetings with detectives about a recent case of narcotics that’s been slowly creeping through the city. The meetings were tense, yet only loose ends and long silences came up for the thick of it.

Seungcheol rubs his jaw absently, the heavy steps of his boots clap on the floor as he makes his way toward the main part of the precinct. A lot of cubicles have emptied out by this point, only some occupied by a couple of overnight supervisors writing up case and incident reports. He stops by the locker room to shed off his vest, duty belt, and radio for the night.

Then he finds himself half-lost in thought while trudging in the direction to his office. However, at the corner of his eye, he notices one of the doors to the briefing room wide open. His footsteps come to a halt instinctively, perching himself by the doorframe as he peers inside curiously. One of the bulbs above is flickering irregularly. The large table inside is mostly vacant. But as his eyes swarm the room, that’s when he notices you.

You’re sitting in a chair, with a sleeping laptop still open in front of you and what seems to be a half-eaten protein bar tossed aimlessly beside a couple of case report papers and an empty water bottle. Your head is resting on your arms, and your fingers are curled loosely around a ballpoint pen, hovering over a notepad covered in illegible handwriting that makes it clear you’ve been fighting through this exhaustion for a while now.

You’re asleep𑁋the kind of sleep that you promised to be only five minutes but never made it back up. Something about the sight of you like this sends a ripple through Seungcheol’s chest.

What could you possibly have done to wear yourself out this much already? You’ve only been working under Officer Lee for a little over a month and he finds you like this? It’s as if the second you got your badge back, you pushed every single one of your senses to the next level just to prove your worth back on the force.

If only you knew how much he’d been keeping a small eye on you from the sidelines the past few weeks. On days where you have to brush past each other in the hallways and pretend that everything is normal between the two of you. Pretend that seeing you climb into another cruiser that isn’t his doesn’t fuel him. Pretend that even the simplest thought of you doesn’t leave his mind dizzy in the middle of briefings. Pretend that the memory of his mouth on yours hasn’t followed him like a damn spectre.

Seungcheol sighs through his nose. He really doesn’t have enough energy in him to play sergeant right now.

Goddamn it, rookie.

Quietly, he steps inside the room and closes the door behind him softly, careful to not let it click too loudly. When he approaches up to you, he crouches down slightly and places a gentle hand on your lower back, letting his fingers splay there for a moment as he traces the circles through your shirt.

“Rookie,” Seungcheol calls out feebly.

You don’t stir, not at first. But after a couple of more shakes from Seungcheol, you mutter something groggy and inaudible.

He leans in a little closer to you. “Hm?”

“...Seungcheol…?”

The way his name leaves your tongue sends a flip to his stomach.

“Yeah,” he answers back. “It’s me.”

Your brows knit together at the low voice travelling through your ears. It takes another minute for your body to slip out of unconsciousness, and you find your head slowly rising up from being buried within the haven of your arms for the past hour or so.

Blinking a few times through your lashes to readjust your vision, your eyes drag towards the warmth orbiting by your side. That’s when you catch sight of Seungcheol knelt beside you and his hand still pressed comfortingly on your back𑁋you can feel him even through your vest.

“What…” You rub at your eyes, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. “What time is it?”

“Late,” Seungcheol replies simply. “Didn’t your shift end an hour ago?”

You sit up straighter at that, a low wince leaving out of you at a sudden knot in your spine. “Shit𑁋sorry, I was trying to finish this report for Officer Lee𑁋”

“It’s fine,” Seungcheol reassures you, letting his hand fall from your back but lingering near your elbow like he doesn’t want to be too far from you. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

You blink at him again from that. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“You really don’t have to𑁋”

“I want to,” he cuts your words off.

It’s unlike his tone to be so… soft. Perhaps it’s just from the late night because his face looks as equally exhausted as yours. You give a small nod before standing up to gather up your belongings, but Seungcheol is already one step ahead of you.

He folds the laptop to a close and reaches out to gather any other loose papers scattered around your area like he’s done it a hundred times before. You pause your own movements for a couple of beats to just watch him, fixated on that unreadable look on his face as he organises your things and hands it to you wordlessly without even being told to.

“Thank you,” You mutter tiredly.

Seungcheol only responds with a hum and motion towards the door. You trail behind him quietly in the meantime. Luckily, the precinct appears to be too tired to give a shit that you’re walking side-by-side with him at this late hour. But a few heads do lift up from their computer, and a few night-shift dispatchers pause mid-conversation to steal a glance at you both.

The whispers fly past your ears in fragments. You feel it; Seungcheol feels it too.

“Guess she literally rode her way back on the roster, huh.”

“Never pictured Sergeant Choi as the commitment type, to be honest.”

“Last time he dated, I heard he𑁋”

The rest of the words get cut off by the sounds of the exit doors closing behind. You and Seungcheol enter the desolate parking lot together. Seungcheol unlocks his car with the click of his keys and opens the passenger door for you wordlessly. You hesitate for a moment before climbing inside. He shuts the door behind you, walks around the hood of the car, and takes his place in the driver’s seat.

As the engine roars to life, neither of you say anything at first. Not until the car cruises smoothly down the main road.

Seungcheol clears his throat soundly. “Has Jihoon been working you hard?”

“No, he hasn’t,” You respond with a small smile at his faint worry. “Actually, I think he might be going easier on me than you ever did.”

Seungcheol lifts a brow at that, eyes still trained on the road. “Oh, really?”

“You jealous, Sergeant?”

“Of Jihoon?”

“Of someone else supervising me.”

Seungcheol doesn’t even remember the last time he’s felt this way. Jealousy would be such a plain-sailing way to describe it, but that’s what it is, right? He is jealous𑁋jealous that someone else gets your time during shifts, jealous that someone else now has to deal with your sarcastic remarks and ambitious pride, jealous that someone else gets the version of you that he’s used to by default.

“Jealousy is a waste of time,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

You shoot a side-glance at him. “Still doesn’t answer my question.”

That makes Seungcheol let out a defeated groan. A chuckle of satisfaction leaves you when you’ve realised you caught him, and you lean back against the seat with your arms crossed in victory.

When the sight of your building comes into view and Seungcheol pulls up into a parking space, your hand curls around the door handle, yet you don’t get out just yet.

“For the record,” You start nimbly, shifting your body around to face him. “I liked being yours. On shift, I mean.”

Seungcheol stills in his seat like you’ve just shamelessly carried out a crime right in front of him. As he looks at you, there’s something more vulnerable past the confident twinkle in your eyes now. The smile that crosses your face is small. Shy, even𑁋a look that he rarely ever gets to see on you.

When he hears the sound of the passenger door opening, he has to force himself out of his own thoughts. Without even registering it, his hand instinctively reaches over to grab your wrist to keep you from leaving right away.

“And off-duty?” Seungcheol asks with painstaking curiosity, loosening his grip on your wrist slightly.

The pleased smile on your face brightens even more.

“Take me on a date, Sergeant,” You say with a pleasant tilt of your head. “Then we’ll see whether or not I still like it.”

Seungcheol releases his grip from you as you climb out of his car, and his eyes still refuse to leave you as he watches the skip in your step when you disappear into your apartment building. The warmth of you still swirls around him even long after your departure.

Your phone vibrates the second you enter inside your apartment.

[11:17pm | sergeant choi] Friday. 1900 hours. I’ll pick you up.

You stare at the message for an entire minute before a grin threatens to split your face in half, because it’s just so him to text like this. No emojis, no fluff. Just a time and decision. A tryst, if you can call it that.

[11:18pm | y/n] is that an order, sarge?

[11:18pm | sergeant choi] Don’t make me take it back, rookie.

A laugh of disbelief leaves you, making you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress yourself from digging your grave even further down. You can already imagine him rolling his own eyes through the screen.

[11:19pm | y/n] yes, sir ☺️

You watch the way the three little dots at the bottom disappear and reappear a few times, like he’s contemplating his own words.

[11:21pm | sergeant choi] Good. Now get some sleep.

[11:22pm | y/n] alright goodnight, sergeant :)

One minute passes. Then another, before he types back:

[11:25pm | sergeant choi] Goodnight, Y/N.

Seungcheol texts you right on the dot at 1900 hours that he’s outside your building. Not one minute too late or early.

You’ve changed your outfit at least three times before receiving it, with your thoughts spiraling into a sweaty panic at the fact that you’re really about to go on a date with the Sergeant Choi Seungcheol. Somehow, just somehow, you’ve gotten this far, and you hadn’t actually mentally prepared yourself enough by the time Friday arrived.

Your room looks like an absolute crime scene. There’s an explosion of clothes and hangers tossed all over your bed and a pile of rejected accessories that didn’t make the final cut. The first outfit you tried on was too casual. The second one made you look like you were trying too hard. And the third felt dangerously close to “rookie trying to seduce her superior”, which absolutely cannot be the vibe that you’re going with tonight. The fourth one, which you have on right now, is much more… balanced, you hope.

You give a long stare at yourself in the mirror. The outfit you have on isn’t anything too fancy𑁋a pair of jeans, a fitted blouse that flatters your figure without seeming like you tried too hard, and a simple leather jacket. You scramble to grab your keys and bag before you let the overthinking catch up.

Because this isn’t a meeting in the briefing room, or a field questioning.

This is a date. An actual real-life date.

When the door swings open, the cool evening air strikes you in the face as you step outside. It doesn’t take long for you to spot Seungcheol’s car waiting under a flickering streetlamp, with the man of the hour himself leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed loosely around his chest, posture relaxed yet still manages to scream authority.

He’s wearing a pair of white slacks, hands casually shoved in his pockets, and a short-sleeved black button down with two buttons unclasped at the collar. His dark hair is in its natural state𑁋a soft fringe with a few strands falling naturally over his forehead. It makes him look more unfairly softer. Handsome in a way that’s quietly dangerous. Less Sergeant Choi; more Choi Seungcheol.

He looks up the second he hears your footsteps, stiffening up immediately and approaching you steadily. As he walks, his gaze takes you in𑁋from down to your boots and back up to your eyes. And almost imperceptibly, something in his expression shifts, as if the tightness frequently coiled around him at work loosens just from the sight of you alone. You feel the heat of anticipation crawl up your body the second you both land in front of each other.

“Rookie,” Seungcheol greets simply.

You lift your chin to meet his eyes, a subtle smirk playing at your face. “Sergeant.”

A beat of silence passes. Then he clears his throat.

“You look…” he starts, gaze dipping back down and up again. “...nice.”

Your smirk widens just a fraction. The compliment comes out so stiff, almost like he had to forcibly pry it out of his system.

“Nice?” You fold your arms over your chest in mock disappointment. “Is that all I get?”

A flush creeps up at his nape, almost invisible to the naked eye under the glow of the streetlamp above. He lets an exhale out of his nose like he knows you’re testing his patience on purpose and that he would have to deal with it for the rest of the night.

Seungcheol takes another appreciative look over you.

“You look beautiful.”

You swear you nearly choke on your spit at that, the teasing draining out of your face.

“Wow.” Your voice cracks up into a squeaky octave, a sound between a half-choke and a half-laugh breaching out of your lungs like your brain couldn’t process what he just said. “I𑁋Who are you and what did you do with Sergeant Choi?”

“I’m not your sergeant right now.”

“Old habits never die,” You say playfully while brushing past him and to his car, with him following closely behind you. “I’ll still call you it, regardless. Kinda sexy, isn’t it?”

You say it like a joke.

And you absolutely do not mean it as a joke.

Seungcheol freezes mid-motion in opening the door for you, finger tightening around the frame of the door. A low curse rumbles out of his breath𑁋partially annoyance maybe, although you wouldn’t be here if he was exactly annoyed. But amusement? Definitely.

He shuts the door once you fully climb inside, before walking around the hood of the car and getting in.

The car rumbles underneath you as Seungcheol pulls away from your building. The streetlamps illuminating the night pass by the window in streaks of golden paint. Neither of you say anything for the first few blocks that you drive by, and the silence filling the space makes you feel a lot less confined and rather… settled.

You steal the first glance at him.

Seungcheol is driving with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping rhythmically on his thigh. His sleeve has ridden up just slightly to show the obvious hint of tense muscle on his forearm, plus revealing the completely healed scar underneath from the arson case. The thought of what happened on that day used to haunt you with guilt, but now you feel like you’re allowed to look at it. Perhaps even honour it if he’d let you.

“Where are we going?” You finally ask him.

Seungcheol turns the wheel smoothly and simply answers, “Somewhere quiet.”

“Hmm… suspicious.”

“You’re suspicious of everything.”

“I’m a cop.”

“So am I,” he retorts. “You wanted a date. This is me trying.”

“Trying,” You repeat, letting the word stretch mischievously through the air. “When was the last time you went on a date, Sergeant?”

Seungcheol remains silent for a moment. Outside, the city bleeds into view. The night life is as beautiful as always, yet your eyes linger only on the man right next to you.

“I’m out of practice,” he admits quietly, almost sheepish.

Your mouth drops open, eyes widening in disbelief. “Sergeant Choi Seungcheol is… out of practice with dating?”

“Work got in the way,” he deadpans in response. “You know the story.”

You hum softly, leaning back in your seat and allowing his words to surround you. Because you do know the story, probably more than anyone else. You remember the unguarded smile he had in those photos in his office, a smile that’s rare to see on his face nowadays. You remember the story of his former partner and how that fateful night changed the entire trajectory of his career, his entire being. How it turned him into the protocol-abiding, hollowed-out, detached officer the whole precinct is intimidated by𑁋the version you first met of him.

And you remember thinking how he uses all of those memories as evidence against himself.

“When you say you’re out of practice, what… what do you mean exactly?”

Seungcheol takes in one long, laboured breath. He brings the car to a steady stop at a red light, which illuminates crimson over his features.

“I can’t control it.”

The confession lands softly as a feather between the two of you. You study his side-profile carefully. He can feel your eyes burning into him from the side, but he can’t get himself to look at you. Not when he’s still driving and genuinely, genuinely, trying not to fuck this up with you.

Slowly, you sneak your hand onto his side, placing it right over the one on his thigh. His hand is bigger compared to yours, but your warmth seeps into his bones as if you’re delicately cradling his heart in your hold. There’s a momentary twitch from his fingers under yours, yet he doesn’t fight it. With you, there’s nothing to fight. No crime to punish.

“Don’t control it then,” You tell him gently, curling your hand more into his. “Be reckless for once. Like me. With me.”

The weight of your words settle atop his shoulders. It rests there patiently, waiting.

And when the traffic light flickers to green, he steps on the gas with a pondering look. Then, in a moment so casually deliberate, he faces his palm upward, and allows his fingers to intertwine with yours officially. The action is louder than any siren screaming from miles away.

The rest of the drive melts into silence.

Seungcheol kills the engine the second he parks. He’s taken you to a secluded section of the city waterfront. There’s almost no nearby cars, a couple of unbothered figures trailing down the bank, only the presence of the moonlight casting ribbons across the dark waters. You’re hardly ever used to this kind of peace now, since you’ve been so used to the noise of traffic and dispatch constantly radioing about ongoing pursuits and calls.

It’s strange to see the world like this.

Neither of you are in a rush to get out. But when the moment ends, Seungcheol reluctantly releases your hand and steps out of the car, striding instinctively to your side to open your door. It’s like a new protocol for him.

When you step out, the fresh scent of the waterfront flows through your nostrils and the cool air kisses against your skin. Seungcheol sticks to your side when you climb out, close enough that your chest almost brushes his as you turn toward him. He meets your eyes warily.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, offering him a grateful smile. “Yeah, I’m good. This… this is nice.”

The corners of his mouth faintly twitch up at that.

“Okay,” he replies relievedly. “Because I’m basically winging the rest of this.”

You hit him lightly in the chest, rolling your eyes. “You’re doing great, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol catches your wrist reflexively before you can fully pull your hand away from his chest, thumb absentmindedly caressing over your pulse point there, like he’s checking to see if your heart is racing as fast as his. Then he embraces your fingers once again.

“You’re easy to please tonight, aren’t you, rookie?”

You wiggle a teasing brow. “Very much so, Sergeant.”

His head shakes with a chuckle as he steps past you to grab a bag from the backseat of the car, still holding your hand while doing so. The next thing you know, the two of you are silently trailing down the narrow pathway of the waterfront. Only a few dim lampposts bathe the area every few metres, a few benches sitting nearby, accompanied with a light breeze that carries with it the subtle scent of algae from the water.

Seungcheol takes you to a lone bench that sits peacefully under an overgrown ornamental tree, lit up by a singular lamppost that appeared the brightest out of each one you passed. You sit down first and he follows after, his thigh pressed up warmly against yours.

The sounds of the bag rustling perks your ears up curiously, and you watch Seungcheol take out what seems to be a container of homemade gimbap and two cans of beers. Your mouth drops in awe as you take in the colourful sight before you.

“Did you…” You lean forward, peering into the container as if it would disappear if you blink. “Did you make this?”

Seungcheol shrugs, nudging the container to you. The gimbap is cut into perfect slices, each revealing layers of bright orange carrots, sunny yellow pickled radish, rice, and what looks like seasoned bulgogi.

“Learned it from my mother,” he answers, almost self-consciously. “Haven’t made it in a while, so I thought of trying again.”

The mention of his mother seems to soften his features. It makes your chest tighten a little.

You steal a piece of gimbap and plop in your mouth, and immediately, the flavours hit you right in the gut. You taste the savoury beef, the subtle sweetness of the pickled radish, the traces of sesame oil in the rice. It’s good. Like, really good. Way better than most convenience store ones you’ve had. A hum of approval leaves you mid-chew. Seungcheol watches you expectantly from the side.

“Good?” he questions promptly.

You nod as you swallow, a smile lifting at your lips. “It’s great, Sergeant.” Then you take it upon yourself to pick up another piece and offer it to him. “Open up.”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes flit between the gimbap and your face, looking almost stunned like no one has ever hand-fed him in his life. Hesitating, he parts his mouth open, just enough for you to slide the gimbap past his lips, your fingertip accidentally grazing upon his lower lip for a moment.

His eyes lock on yours as he chews. The dim lamplight softens the sharp angles of his face you’re used to seeing under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the precinct. You watch the way his eyes flutter to a close, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, only a low mmh of satisfaction leaving him.

When he opens his eyes back open, it doesn’t take long for the flutters in your stomach to crawl its way back up your throat, a fit of giggles tumbling out of you before you can stop it. Seungcheol swears his brain short-circuits at the sound, and one corner of his lips lift up higher than the other.

“What?” he asks warily, arching up a curious brow.

“Nothing.” You wave a panicked, dismissive hand in front of him, before covering your face in embarrassment. “You just… You look cute.”

He lets out a low, incredulous scoff. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth.

“No one’s ever called me cute since I was ten,” he mutters sheepishly.

“Well, I hereby claim the executive rights to call you cute whenever I please,” You declare, dropping your hands from your face to point a playful, accusatory finger at his chest. “Court adjourned, Sergeant. You can’t run away now.”

Seungcheol catches your wrist before you can pull away. You freeze mid-laugh, eyes widening a little when you notice he doesn’t let go instantly. Instead, he tugs you forward so that any remaining space between you both is erased. Your breath hitches loudly𑁋he smirks faintly at your reaction.

“You forget that I’m your superior?” he jests lowly.

Tilting your head amusedly, you allow your finger to trace down his chest, causing him to suck in a breath as you drift lower, pausing just at his ribs.

“You’re my superior at the precinct,” You tell him teasingly, heat dragging through your words. “But who’s really been in charge when we’re not on-call?”

You, Seungcheol answers in his head. And the worst part is that he knows it’s true.

Seungcheol remains entirely still, like a cat caught his tongue and tied it into a hopeless knot. When your gaze roams over his face, a pleased look crosses over your features, and you lean into to place a quick chaste kiss to his lips.

“Relax,” You assure him, separating yourself out of his grasp to grab your can of beer. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to, of course.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, watching you take a sip from your can without any care in the world. “Unbelievable.”

Time passes by slowly after this. The two of you remain sitting side-by-side, quietly eating the remaining gimbap while the water laps gentle waves ahead to fill the silence. You cross your legs atop the bench, knees brushing his, swirling around the can of beer in your grasp contemplatively. You feel your thoughts circling around you.

You turn towards Seungcheol intriguingly.

“Can I ask why you wanted to be in the police force?”

Seungcheol keeps his focus ahead, but you can tell the question caught him off-guard from the way he leans back against the bench. You don’t push even further than that, not wanting to open up any old scars. The breeze picks up a few strands of his hair.

“My dad was a cop,” he tells you. “Used to stay up at night waiting for him to come home, because he’d tell me all these stories. I guess you can say I was fascinated by it𑁋I always told him I wanted to be like him when I grew up.”

A faint smile twitches at his face at the memory.

“When I turned seventeen, he taught me how to shoot a gun,” he continues. “He’d sneak me into the practice range at the department. He also let me ride beside him too during graveyard shifts without telling my mother. It was… God, it was so fun.”

Seungcheol traces over the rim of the can. The dim light captures the sparkle in his eyes as he continues to speak fondly of his father.

“Reality hit me hard the second I got into this job,” he mutters quietly. “Sometimes I wish my father warned me about the things I’d see in this line of work.”

You take in his words carefully. “Did you ever think about quitting?”

“Many times.”

“And?”

“You get both good days and bad days,” Seungcheol answers simply. “I thought it was worth it to try and keep that balance even if it cost a part of me.”

You faintly smile at that. You understand what he’s trying to say𑁋what it means to sacrifice a part of yourself for the job, for the people and city you swore to protect, for the version of justice you still believe in even when the world keeps trying to prove you wrong.

Perhaps you’re at that point of realisation that you’ve almost sacrificed a part of yourself too: your defiance. Especially during the time you got suspended.

“I joined because I was angry,” You confess suddenly.

Seungcheol lifts his head from your words, not responding yet. A curious look washes over his face.

“I got jumped when I was in high school,” You continue on, the memory flashing visions through your gaze making you tighten your around the can. “Three seniors, two guys and a girl. They got all pissed when I reported them for selling pills behind the school. They cornered me one day𑁋broke my wrist, split my lip, kicked me in the ribs. Classic power trip bullshit. Nothing fatal, thankfully.”

Seungcheol’s heart nearly punches a hole through his chest. He doesn’t interrupt yet, but you sense his shoulders squaring and his jaw ticking. The easy atmosphere from a few minutes before is still there, but underneath it all is a little more… it’s darker. Anger, maybe, but not at you. Never at you.

The memory grows within you, sending discomforting chills up and down your skin.

“The police were, uh… called in,” You resume languidly. “But they dismissed it all with just a slap to the wrist for it simply being a ‘teenage misunderstanding’. And I… I didn’t even get a fucking apology from any of them. All I got was being called the unstable one who couldn’t let it go after graduation.”

Seungcheol bites down at his bottom lip. “Where are they now?”

You shrug, noncommittal. “I don’t know. Heard one of the guys got married last year. The girl is… She’s doing fine, I guess. It stopped mattering after all this time.”

Seungcheol releases a long-winded breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a while.

“Don’t be.” The laugh that leaves you comes off forced and dismissive. “It’s all in the past now. I’m fine.”

“Still,” he cuts back in, tone fierce but voice calm as always. You can tell the memory is getting to him. “No one should have put their hands on you like that.”

There’s no pity in his eyes. Just plain, unadulterated understanding. It’s almost terrifying seeing how calm and collected he seems to be on the surface, when under all that armour of his it can be quite apparent that he wears his heart on his sleeve𑁋but that’s a sight only for your eyes to see. His heart isn’t the type to announce itself, unlike yours.

Yet two opposite hearts who have seen ghosts can easily recognise each other.

“Are you still mad?” Seungcheol inquires quietly.

You chuckle despite yourself. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Means you haven’t given up.”

You narrow your eyes conspicuously at him. “You used to get all pissy at me for being emotional and go on entire tangents saying how feelings cloud judgment. What changed?”

“I still stand by it,” he admits quietly. “Blind emotion gets people killed. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”

“So, what𑁋are you saying you like my anger now, Sergeant?”

“Your feelings didn’t make you blind,” Seungcheol answers assertively. “If anything, it made you… see everything more clearly. And that’s exactly why I think you still deserve your badge, even if others say otherwise. And I…”

His voice trails off, hesitating for a heartbeat before he lets his dark eyes meet yours, locking there with a gaze so intense it has your breath hitching. Then a rueful look crosses over his features.

“...I want to be someone who stands beside your fire.”

The confession is soft, but the weight of it feels as heavy as a boulder hitting you square in the chest. For a moment, you can’t speak, the words at the end of your tongue being swallowed back down your throat.

And instead of trying to find those words again, you lean in and kiss him.

Seungcheol meets you halfway immediately, not even hesitating to bring a hand up to cradle your neck and pull you in deeper. Your fingers slide up his side before splaying widely over the wide planes of his chest over his shirt, right over the pounding of his heart. The slow drags of his mouth against yours sends heat pooling down into your stomach, every low sigh escaping him as the kiss deepens intensifying your need even more.

His thumb brushes delicately along the column of your throat, pressing down just enough at your pulse point for him to smirk against your lips as he feels how fast it’s racing for him. He tilts his head slightly, adjusts his body more forward on the bench so his thigh slides in between yours. You gasp into his mouth at the sensation; he drinks it down like it belongs to him.

The kiss only breaks away when you both need air. Your forehead softly presses to his.

“I want you,” You whisper breathlessly, your voice losing itself into the night. “I want you so badly, Sergeant.”

“You have me,” he replies hoarsely, sending chills down your spine at the gravel of his tone. “How do you want me, rookie?”

You pull away just enough to meet his dark, blown-out pupils, flitting momentarily to his kiss-bitten lips. Then you lean close to his ear, your breath tickling against his skin.

“I want you to ruin me,” You say with a wicked grin. “Properly.”

That earns you a low curse from him.

“Fuck, rookie,” he breathes out, crashing his lips back onto yours desperately. “Get in the car. Now.”

The moment your shoes are kicked off in Seungcheol’s place, his lips immediately lock onto yours.

It isn’t rough𑁋not yet𑁋but soft enough to have you melting into complete putty in his arms. He doesn’t shove you against the wall as you half-expected from restraint, but merely only taking patient, deliberate steps down what seems to be the hallway leading towards his bedroom. Every few steps he pauses to kiss you deeper, slower; and somewhere along the journey, your leather jacket falls off your shoulders and down to the floor.

When you reach his bedroom, he doesn’t bother turning on any lights and lets the natural spill of the moonlight through the blinds paint white strips over the room and the two of you. Seungcheol backs you until the back of your knees hit the bed behind, and with a tiny nudge of encouragement, you sit down right at the edge. He steps a half-step back, standing in between your parted legs.

You watch longingly as he unclaps each button of his shirt one-by-one, keeping a tender gaze locked on you the entire time. He doesn’t speak when the last button is undone, and he lets the shirt fall into a heap on the ground. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you roam over his near-bare form, taking in tiny ridges of scars: one on his left pec, a few others sliced across his ribs.

He stands there for a moment, letting you drink him in. But he’s met with your hand grabbing his, tugging him forward so that he’s practically looming above you and your eye-level with his lower half. Then you lean in to press the softest of kisses to one of the scars that run diagonal over his lower abdomen, right above the waistband of his pants.

Seungcheol’s breath hitches. “Fuck, rookie… You don’t have to𑁋”

“I want to,” You cut him off firmly. “Let me.”

“Gonna make me lose it before I even fuck you𑁋”

You only trail higher from there, kissing the ones on his ribs, then to the one at his left pec where you teasingly linger, and finally, the one at his arm. A smile graces your face when you meet his lips once more, his hands already trailing underneath your shirt until he’s tugging it over your head and letting it join his on the floor.

His fingers trail up your chest, cupping your breast over your bra carefully. “Can I take these off too?”

You don’t answer him verbally and instead take it upon yourself to reach behind to unhook your bra. His eyes darken the moment the straps fall off your shoulders and the bra falls away to the floor. Moonlight catches the curve of your breasts, the way your nipples tightens instantly under his heated gaze.

“Goddamn𑁋you’re fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, thumb brushing over your breast before cupping it fully, teasing the peak between his fingers. “Lie back, baby. Wanna take my time with you.”

You sink back into the mattress with Seungcheol following suit, his body caging you in as he hovers above you without breaking eye contact, careful not to put all his weight on you.

He starts with your mouth again, before slowly trailing to your jaw, down to the column of your throat, to your collarbones. As he reaches your breasts, he kisses along the curves for a moment then sucks the peak into his mouth, which makes you arch into him. You thread your hands in his hair like you’re trying to mold him into you.

“Oh𑁋Sergeant𑁋”

Seungcheol hums darkly. His hands roam possessively across your ribs and down your stomach, blindly reaching for the button on your jeans.

“You like that, huh?” he murmurs with a faint chuckle. “Love it when your Sergeant worships you like this?”

You nod insistently, unable to form words as he lavishes the same attention to your other breast. Next, he’s kissing down the valley in between, leaving trails of wet heat and praise while his mouth meets your sternum, your ribs, then to the soft skin of your stomach.

“Can I taste you, baby?” Seungcheol asks roughly, pulling away to look at you. Even under the moonlight, you see the way his cheeks are flushed from everything that’s been happening. His thumb draws soothing circles on your hip.

You swallow hard.

“God, yes,” You plead, voice hardly a pitch above a whisper. “Please… taste me, Sergeant.”

The title makes his jaw tick. A low, approving sound tumbles out of his throat as he presses a thankful kiss below your navel. “Such a good girl for me.”

He fumbles with the buttons of your jeans, and you lift your hips without even being told. Seungcheol hooks onto the waistband and drags down your pants along with your underwear. The cool air of the room grazes upon your newly exposed skin and the wetness of your folds, and it’s almost enchanting the way the gift between your legs is already glistening for him to beautifully unwrap.

He brackets your thighs with his broad shoulders, urging you to spread wider. Then he just… stares, his cock hardening even more at the sight of you open for him. Your clit pulses visibly under his gaze, the heat of his breath ghosting directly over where you need him most.

“Jesus… this pretty pussy is soaked,” Seungcheol rasps, running a gentle finger through your slit, which forces you to almost clamp around him. But he forces you back open. “All this for me?”

You can only whimper in response, fingers twisting into the sheets.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes! All for you, Sergeant…”

That undoes him right there like a gunshot to the heart. Seungcheol drags a firm tongue through your folds, and the first proper taste of you has a guttural groan spilling out of him, the vibration going straight to your cunt.

Your hips jerk up instinctively, yet he plants a firm hand on your stomach to keep you still. He licks you again, flattening his tongue to lap a stripe from your entrance and to the swollen bud of your clit. Broken moans tumble out of you as he continues to devour you𑁋going from kitten licks to full on sucks at your bud that has you pulling desperately at his hair.

“My greedy fuckin’ rookie…” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your folds. “Letting me eat this sweet pussy… Gonna feel so good around my cock, baby…”

“Cheol𑁋please𑁋”

Seungcheol pulls away enough to let a string of saliva and your wetness connect his bottom lip to your clit. God, he’s drunk by how needy you are right now, and he’s really trying to restrain himself. But he knows he’s losing the battle𑁋there’s no point in trying to hold back anymore when he’s spent the past how many years doing so.

So he answers by diving back in, messier this time, and slides two thick fingers inside of you. You cry out his name from the stretch, tugging at his hair as your walls grip him perfectly. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a torturous pace, while the filthy wet sounds of him tongue-fucking you fill his bedroom.

“Sergeant𑁋ngh𑁋I’m close!”

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” he commands, voice muffled against your clit. “Let go for me. I’m right here.”

Just from that, your vision grows white as your orgasm snaps like a string and molten runs between your legs. A broken cry rips out of your throat, thighs threatening to close around his head but he pins them back down with his stupidly large forearms. Seungcheol groans lowly, yet keeps lapping at you until you’re whimpering from overstimulation, before finally pulling away with a few soothing open-mouthed kisses to your mound.

He slowly crawls his way up your body, planting kisses up your skin like he’s mapping every inch he claimed. When he reaches your mouth, you taste yourself on his tongue, letting your hands roam over his backside. You feel his aching cock through his pants nudge your thigh, but he doesn’t rush it.

“You okay?” Seungcheol asks softly.

Your heart is still racing as he buries his head into the crook of your neck to breathe you in for a few moments. When he hovers back above you, his hair is sticking out in all sorts of places from when you pulled them earlier, and his eyes are still dark with want yet softened with something tender.

You smooth away some wild strands of his hair before cupping his face in your hand.

“I’m okay,” You whisper, tracing a finger down his jawline. “I… I want more.”

His eyes widen. “Yeah?”

“I want to ride you, Sergeant.”

The tension hangs thickly between you two. Seungcheol stares at you for a minute, as if you’ve physically rewired his entire system with just six words. An exhale of disbelief leaves him.

“Such a brat,” he quips with a chuckle. “Are you sure?”

You respond to that with a gentle push to his chest which forces him on the bed, pulling you with him until you’re straddling him. A hiss leaves his lips when your core meets his still-clothed erection through the fabric of his pants. His hands settle your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh like he’s trying to fight the urge to flip you back over. But he doesn’t𑁋just watches you through batted eyelashes and lets himself surrender to your touch.

You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You’d like that, huh? Let your good little rookie take what she wants?”

A shudder runs through his entire body.

“I𑁋Yes,” Seungcheol croaks gravelly, voice cracking at the edges. “Yeah, baby. Use me.”

With a grin, you travel your focus down to his slacks. A wanton sigh escapes him when you touch him over the hard line of him through the fabric, abs flexing when you undo the button. He lifts his hips for you to be able to tug his pants and boxers down until they’re bunched around his thick thighs. But he kicks it off, fully freeing himself now.

Your mouth waters and your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight of him all naked and bare. He’s… thick, unsurprisingly. Already leaking precum at his flushed tip, the wetness glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. There’s a vein that runs along his length and pulses with every anticipatory kick of his heartbeat.

He hisses with clenched teeth as you wrap a hand around him. You give him a long, torturous stroke, letting your thumb drive through the precum already trailing down his dick. He has to force himself to keep still as you continue to stroke him languidly.

“Patience, Sergeant,” You coo wickedly. “You told me to use you, didn’t I?”

He did. The reminder sinks in his bones with resignation. His head falls back, exposing the clammy skin of his throat the moment your mouth presses an experimental kiss to the shaft of his cock. His skin immediately sets itself ablaze, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the sheets.

Your lips seal around the head, licking up every drop he’s been leaking for you with your hand stroking the rest of him. A subtle twitch of his hips into your mouth betrays him before he catches it, and Seungcheol mumbles out a weak apology.

“Gonna make me cum before I’m even inside of you, rookie𑁋shit𑁋” he stutters out raggedly.

You pull away with a wet pop, replacing your mouth with your hand as you prowl back up his body, pressing kisses along the trembles of his skin. When you’re straddling him again, his hands fly down to your hips to hold you steady. You brace both hands on his shoulders as you roll just once to drag your soaked folds over his length.

A low, needy groan rumbles out of him. His thumbs press bruising crescents into your skin. You reach between your bodies to angle his tip right at your entrance.

“Tell me you want it, Sergeant,” You whisper shakily.

“I want it,” Seungcheol responds pleadingly, gazing up at you with dark, heavy-lidded eyes that has your heart melting. “Want𑁋shit𑁋to see you fuck yourself on me, rookie, please.”

That’s all you need to have you sinking down on him. Slowly but surely, your cunt swallows his length inch by inch until your hips are flush against his and there’s nowhere left to go.

For a moment, you pause to just breathe him in. He’s so deep inside that you swear you feel him in your stomach. You clench around him tentatively, and the way his entire body jerks from that movement alone has heat coursing through your skin. Then you start to move more confidently, lifting your hips up only to slam back down harder than the last.

“Like this?” You gasp aloud, rolling your hips in circles to chase the feeling of him hitting your walls.

“God, yes𑁋just like that, baby, just like that…” Seungcheol looks down to where you’re both joined together, watching himself disappear inside of you over and over again before flitting back up. “So pretty like this𑁋riding your Sergeant’s cock like it belongs to you….”

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting fill the room entirely. Your moans echo off the walls as he thrusts his hips up to meet you. One of his hands caresses up your sides while the other kneads at your breast, twisting at your sensitive nipple while your nails dig harder into the flesh of his back.

You feel the burn forming in your thighs as you continue to ride him, but you don’t dare slow down𑁋can’t slow down𑁋especially not when he’s peering up at you with hazy eyes that make you feel both worshipped and ruined at the same time. Every time you slam back down on him, it earns you more of those beautiful, sinful grunts of his.

Seungcheol’s hands splay over your backside, tugging you forward so your chest meets his and his lips grazes the skin of your throat. He’s fucking up into you mercilessly now, driving his cock inside a particular spot that punches the air out of your lungs and has stars bursting behind your eyes.

“You close, rookie?” he breathes, mouth grazing the shell of your ear.

“So close, Cheol𑁋Sergeant𑁋fuck𑁋”

“Cum for me again,” he urges, the command in his voice building up your second orgasm even faster. “Make a mess on your Sergeant’s cock𑁋let me feel you, please𑁋”

Like a wildfire exploding through you, your back arches as your walls spasm around him. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you ride through your orgasm, and the wave of it crashes into you more harder than the first. Seungcheol finds his own rhythm stuttering as well, his own release chasing after him.

“Gonna𑁋shit𑁋where do you want me?” he babbles desperately. “Inside? On you? Tell me, baby, quick𑁋”

“Inside,” You gasp out, looping your arms around his neck. “Fill me up, Sergeant.”

It takes one last devastating thrust up into you to have him spiraling over the edge. You feel his warmth flooding you to the hilt, his entire body locking up as he comes hard, a guttural groan shredding out of him while he grinds through the heat of his release. He presses his face into the crook of your neck as the adrenaline slowly dissolves away and his breathing starts to slow.

Both of you remain there together, your heartbeats in tandem steadying back to a softer pace. You don’t bother getting off him yet because he’s practically clutching onto you as if afraid you’ll disappear, and you find your hands drawing reassuring circles over the sweaty skin of his back.

After a minute, Seungcheol eases back to look at you. His hair is a mess from your fingers and a flush still painted on his cheeks. He looks so wrecked in the most beautiful way possible. His eyes study over you carefully. The worry in his features makes your chest squeeze tightly.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, caressing a fingertip over your bottom lip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shake your head with a bashful smile. “No, you didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

Relief washes over him instantly. Then carefully, he plants his hands at your hips to help you lift yourself off of him, sliding his softening cock out of you. The slow slide of him leaving you makes you both inhale sharply, and there’s fresh trickles of him running down the inside of your thighs.

Seungcheol glances down momentarily and immediately regrets it, nostrils flaring at the messiness between your legs before he has to force his focus back up. He cages you into his arms and adjusts your positions until you’re laying down on the bed, watching him closely while he grabs a tissue from his bedside table and begins to wipe the evidence of your shared releases.

So this is what Sergeant Choi Seungcheol looks like after all the armour is successfully stripped. The man with the armour has edges as sharp as a blade and a posture held up from years of protocol branded into his spine. The man without the armour had just fucked you like the world was ending and is now cleaning you up with trembling hands that have been trained to have an iron grip on guns.

After he disposes of the tissue, Seungcheol climbs back into bed without a word yet and brings the sheets up over your naked bodies.

“Can I hold you?” he asks first.

You nod sleepily. He wraps an arm around your waist, tucking you into him so that your face is pressed into the planes of his chest. A contented exhale escapes out of you as you let his warmth entangle you.

His chin rests atop your head. “Still with me?”

“Mhm,” You mumble, nuzzling closer into him. “Just… processing.”

He huffs out a laugh that vibrates through his chest. “Yeah. Me too.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the room for a few minutes, interrupted occasionally by the distant sound of sirens coming from the outside world. It makes both of you tense for a second before relaxing again.

Then you finally speak, “This changes everything, you know.”

Seungcheol’s chest deflates. “I know.”

“People are going to start speaking about us again𑁋”

“I don’t care,” he deadpans firmly. “Let them talk their bullshit. I’m done pretending.”

You lift your head up to see his unnervingly calm yet exhausted expression.

“You’re serious?” You press incredulously. “You’re not worried about tanking your career for me? For us?”

“The only thing I’m worried about is you waking up in the morning and regretting this.”

You blink at that. The honest words hang thickly in the air between you both. But you don’t let the thorn prod at your heart; instead, you reach in to cup his cheek, watching his eyelids flutter to your touch.

“I don’t,” You tell him with quiet certainty. “I don’t regret this at all.”

The corners of his mouth lift up faintly.

“Good.” Seungcheol tightens his hold around you until there’s no room left for regretful thoughts, a hand settling possessively on your lower back. “Now sleep, rookie. We’ll deal with the wolves later.”

“Mmh. Still so bossy, Sergeant.”

“Habit.”

You huff out a hushed breath of relief into his chest.

Seungcheol still finds himself awake as if he’s patrolling a graveyard shift a while after you fall asleep in his arms. Because tomorrow, the world will remind him of every rule of protocol he broke. Tomorrow, the two of you will walk into the precinct like any normal day pretending that you didn’t lose yourselves in pleasure the night before. Tomorrow, you’ll probably brush his hand against his when you walk past each other in the hallway

But tonight, there’s no more walls in between you both anymore. Tonight, he’s with the woman who has fully and irrevocably stripped him of his armour.

So yeah. Let the wolves bite. You’ve got each other now to fight them.

And for the first time in years, sleep comes easy for Seungcheol.

— THREE MONTHS LATER.

“Unit 17, what’s your 10-20?”

The dispatch crackles through your earpiece. You clutch the gun tighter in your grip, jaw clenched, your heart hammering like a pounding drum beneath your bulletproof vest.

“10-20. North side of the building, in the alley between 23rd and Sangnam,” You reply sternly through the radio. “Possible visual on suspect movement. Waiting for backup.”

You didn’t expect to find yourself in this situation in the depths of the Devil’s hour. A call was made about multiple gunshots coming from inside an abandoned factory building on the secluded street on the outskirts of the city. It was supposed to be a quick check-in, a standard recon. It’s become a routine after being recently promoted from your rookie status and completing your FTO training three months ago. But the second you stepped out of your cruiser, you felt your instincts rise up like the hairs on the back of your neck.

Now, you’re silently positioned behind a dumpster in the alleyway, a dim streetlamp above flickering under your movements. Your eyes squint through a broken window, but the building is too dark inside to properly see anything, yet your ears are catching every sound you could hear.

A slight creak of a floorboard. A scruff within the shadows.

A click of what you believe is a gun that isn’t yours.

“Tactical unit 13 en route, five minutes,” the comms hisses in your ears. “Converging from all points.”

A lot can happen in five minutes.

Your eyes flutter shut as you take in a deep inhale. It’s slow, calming in a way, just like they taught you back in the police academy𑁋draw in through the nose, hold, then out through the mouth. For a moment, the noise around you fades and your senses sharpen instantly. Your thumb brushes against the safety of your pistol.

Five minutes is too damn long. And whatever the hell is inside that building certainly isn’t that patient.

You shake your head, reaching up to click your radio. “This is Unit 17. 10-20, northside access point. Approaching entry for visual confirmation.”

Static on the other line, like a brief moment of hesitation.

“Unit 17, confirm you are entering alone?”

You take in another breath. “10-4. Confirmed.”

You press your back against the wall. There’s a door right next to the window that’s been left slightly ajar, the lock crooked as if it’s been deliberately forced open. Lowering your gun, you cautiously reach in to test it gently with the tip of your boot. It creaks when you push it open a little more to be able to slip into the darkness. The acrid smell is what catches you at first𑁋like a mix of old oil and something moldy𑁋as the building has been forgotten for years, clearly. The beam from your flashlight catches glimpses of faded graffiti on the walls. Some seem to represent gang signs, others appear more like angry scribbles or political manifestos. Most of them are weathered from time.

One of them reads: NO GODS. NO COPS.

Your boots crunch on shards of broken glass as you step inside further. To your left, you see rows upon rows of empty shelves. To your right, your flashlight roams over some abandoned machinery that’s been left to rot for probably decades. It’s quiet, eerily so. Visually, there isn’t anything around you that looks out of the ordinary just yet.

“Unit 17, requesting… status report,” the dispatcher’s voice cuts in through comms. The signal is unstable. Shit.

You press the push-to-talk button on your radio, announcing, “Unit 17, speaking from the northside access corridor, groundfloor level. Advancing to ensure the area is secured. Updates on Task𑁋”

Suddenly, a loud bang of something crashing to the ground rips through the air, bouncing off the walls and making the ground below you shake. You immediately switch your flashlight off and duck behind a large pillar that stretches from the ceiling to the floor, holding your pistol up, adrenaline coursing through your body.

You wait.

Five seconds. Ten seconds.

The factory grows quiet again.

You take in another deep breath, before emerging from behind the pillar. Each step you carry forward is precise and steady, your combat boots barely grazing the floor, avoiding anything that might cause too much noise. Slowly, you head deeper into the heart of the abandoned factory, where you’re breathing in nothing but dust into your lungs.

Another sound echoes down the corridor ahead𑁋almost like the sound of something, or possibly even someone, scraping against the ground. Perhaps it’s only just the skitter of a rat, but whatever your gut is telling you says otherwise.

Then, you pause again. Because what you catch certainly isn’t for the faintest of heart.

When you gaze downwards, you spot a trail of blood on the floor. It’s dark, thick, and fresh. Your eyes follow closer, watching the trail lead up to an opened door. You click on your flashlight and sweep the beam into the room.

Another sound hits your ears. A low breath. Ragged and heavy. Then your light flickers over a something𑁋a figure𑁋slumped against the wall. Male, probably in his mid-thirties, his clothes torn and his skin pale. One of his hands rests his upper arm, where you spot a dark bloom of blood spreading through the sleeve and down his fingers. The man flinches when your flashlight hits him in the eyes, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing when he spots that you’re wearing a police uniform.

“Police,” You call out calmly to the man, kneeling down right beside him and reaching for your tourniquet. “Help is on the way, sir. Can you tell me who did this to you?”

He lets out a wet cough, lips trembling as he speaks, “Down the hall… packaging drugs… four of them… They’re armed…”

His words make your stomach twist into a knot. Drugs𑁋this is the narcotics case that’s been sending the narcotics department and detectives to the pits of hell recently. A case that’s been slowly buzzing fear around the city. The realisation that you’re possibly in the heart of it spreads dread through your veins.

A low groan leaves him when you finish wrapping the tourniquet around his wound, making sure it’s tied tightly so the bleeding stops. Then you reach over for your radio.

“This is Unit 17. Currently with a victim that has a GSW to the upper arm. Requesting medevac and expedited tactical units ASAP,” You repeat evenly into the radio. “The victim reports there are four armed suspects in the building packaging illegal narcotics.”

The radio gives you nothing but static in response, anxiously spiking up your pulse even more. Whatever the hell this concrete tomb is made of is eating the frequency alive.

You give the radio a frustrated shake, pressing your thumb harder on the button. “Dispatch, this is Unit 17, requesting 10-33. I repeat: there are four armed suspects in the building with a confirmed narcotics operation inside. Tactical backup requested urgently𑁋”

When the other end speaks in static once again, you fight the urge to tear your radio off and smash it to the ground. You take in a deep breath to cool down the way your thoughts are racing with pure adrenaline and panic.

Think, Y/N. Think.

You flit your focus back to the injured man. The colour is draining from his face fast. Leaning back in, you press two fingers at his pulse point. His pulse is relatively weak, but still steady. You force an exhale through your nose.

“Hey, stay with me, okay? Backup should be coming in any minute now.” His heavy, yet hopeful eyes peer back up to you. “Keep talking to me. You have any family we could contact after we get you out? Any place you can stay?”

He blinks slowly, as if your words sent him into a painful headrush of memories. “Got a sister… Her daughter is turning… um, five next week...”

You nod, forcing a small, encouraging smile that he probably can’t see due to the darkness. “That’s great. I’m going to make sure you’re there for that birthday cake, alright? I promise. Hang on for me.”

His fingers twitch against the tourniquet like he’s trying to reciprocate the promise. You catch the slightest hint of the corners of his lip lifting up from your words.

Shit. You can’t stay here. The tactical team is coming𑁋Seungcheol is coming𑁋in two minutes or maybe less, but all that time might as well turn endless when someone’s life is leaking onto the concrete and illegal narcotics are being loaded under your feet to be sold to God knows where.

The options flash through your mind: the first one is to wait, guard the victim, and pray to the heavens that the tactical unit arrives before he bleeds out or that the suspects finish loading and disappear into the night again. It’s the safer option; it abides protocol.

The second option is to move alone, with a dead radio, and neutralise the scene before it evaporates back into dead leads. It’s the option your gut and heart is practically screaming for you to do; it’s reckless, definitely stupid, and seems like a death wish. Exactly the thing you’d be chewed out for the millionth time by Seungcheol later… if there even is a later.

You already know which option you’re choosing. You chose it the second you decided to take this on alone. Because waiting feels like surrender, which is something your stubborn self has never been good at.

Rising up into a crouch, you lean back down to the injured man. “Stay here, don’t move, and keep pressure on the wound, okay? I’m going to make sure no one comes this way. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

His dim eyes meet yours in acknowledgement, before giving you the barest, most exhausted nod in return with whatever strength he can manage. Then you quietly rise up to your feet, bringing your gun and flashlight back up, and begin to make your way back into the cavernous corridor.

The smell of burnt plastic grows heavier with every step that you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. You move like a shadow within a shadow𑁋keeping your presence low, taking deliberate steps with your boots so you can avoid the crunch of glass or any other debris that could get you noticed. Up ahead, the hallway ends and bleeds out into a much larger and vast room, which seems to be the main production room. Unmistakably some sort of meth lab or fentanyl process room. Or possibly both. How have they been operating this quietly for so long?

You kill your flashlight entirely to let your eyes adjust to the weak strips of moonlight pouring in from the shattered high windows and duck behind a large industrial pallet leaning against a support column. The room opens up into an array of metal tables lined up in rows, shelves stacked up with red phosphorous jars, blister packs, and tons of empty two-litre soda bottles scattered all over the floor.

Four figures move methodically throughout the room as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. And they probably already have. Two of them are hunched over a table and sealing small plastic bags under a portable lamp, another one is busy loading the narcotics into a duffel bag. The fourth one, on the other hand, has an AR-15 slung over his body, finger resting near the trigger as he paces back and forth around the room like a bored guard dog.

“...hurry it up. We need to sell all this shit by dawn tomorrow.”

“Come press these fucking pills yourself if you’re in such a hurry then.”

Tired chuckles ripple out of the group. You can tell they’re being sloppy now, overconfident. That’s the thing about asshole criminals who think they’re both invisible and invincible.

Your brain immediately begins to map out everything that you were trained to do in a possible scenario like this: calculate the distance to the suspects, note cover points, and find exit routes.

Four suspects. One rifle. Three possible handguns. They’re standing about ten metres from your position. There’s two possible exit routes you can take in case anything goes wrong. But then again𑁋you’re outnumbered. Yet somewhere behind you, a man is bleeding out on the floor, and you promised him that you’d be back to make sure he sees his niece’s birthday.

The most dangerous one is clearly the one with the rifle, while the others barely glance up from their work. Rifleman seems to have a pattern with his rotations around the room, and you realise you have at least three seconds of opportunity with every turn he makes to ensure you have a direct, clear shot.

You wait until his next turn𑁋three, two, one𑁋and the second his back faces you, you take in a deep breath and move, standing up from your crouched position and raising your pistol.

“Police! Put your hands where I can see them! Drop your weapons now!”

All four heads snap around to you instantly. The entire room bursts into immediate chaos.

“Fucking cop!” the duffel bag man exclaims, already diving behind the nearest table for cover while yanking out a pistol that was hidden from view.

Rifleman acts the fastest𑁋he swings his AR-15 around as fast as lightning, already mashing his finger on the trigger before the barrel is even properly level to aim. You drop and roll away to the seek cover behind the industrial pallet as the first bullet rips through the air right where your head was, more rocketing in your direction like hail and slamming into the pallet with booming clangs that echo throughout the factory.

Your heart is slamming so hard against your chest enough to possibly crack a rib, because this is it𑁋this is the moment all the academy drills have prepared you for; the moment where protocol dies and survival takes hold. Your ear perks up from the sound of an empty magazine dropping to the floor. That’s your cue.

You use the half-second chance to step out from cover, align your pistol, and shoot two bullets into the rifleman’s direction before he could fully slam a fresh mag inside. One hits him in the shoulder, and the other splits him in half at centre mass. His body jerks hard and stumbles to the floor with a wet gurgle, his gun clattering away.

“Shots fired! Shots fired! Multiple armed suspects at the north main production room!” You wail into the radio, even if it’s useless at this point.

The moment is over when another handgun cracks from somewhere else, forcing you to flee back into cover as a bullet punches through the corner of the pallet and sends sawdust exploding in your face. Another ricochets close enough you feel the heat of it graze your cheek.You shift your position behind the thick support column. Your breath is ragged and heavy as sweaty beads of stress stream down your warm skin.

God dammit. You need to move.

Swallowing down your fears, you squeeze a ready finger to the trigger as you duck out of hiding, eyes locking on the next threat. One of the bag-sealers is closest to you now, and you don’t hesitate to open two shots of fire, sending a clean shot right through his upper thigh and another one lower on the same leg. He buckles instantly to the ground, blood already pooling down around him.

“Fuckin’ shit, my leg!” he bellows out in agony, rocking in pain. “You bitch, you shot me!”

“Stay the hell down!” You bark back, kicking his gun out of reach under the table as his screams of pain reverberate through the building.

That leaves two left.

You catch sight of the other bag-sealer’s head poking out from behind a couple of some abandoned chemical drums. He’s breathing hard, visible panic in both his eyes and in the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders, no visible weapon in his grasp. The duffel bag man, on the other hand…

…he’s charging toward you.

You barely have any time to act before his shoulder slams harshly into your midsection, sending you tumbling down and your gun scurrying across the dirty floor. The air is punched out of your lungs from the affliction, pain exploding through your chest as the man drives a knee into your ribs.

“Fucking cop cunt,” he hisses through his teeth, pressing his forearm down on your throat. He’s much bigger and stronger than you, and just the sheer size of him is enough to make it feel like a boulder is forcibly pinning you down. “Gonna break every bone in your pretty little body before I kill you.”

Your vision swims. Your gun is nowhere to be seen. His fist is already driven up and ready to drive down into your face. There’s no space. No time. But you still have some fight left in you.

And you use it to buck hard and crash a knee straight into his groin with whatever remaining strength you have left. His entire body seizes above you, face contorting in pain as some sort of animalistic wheeze tumbles out of his cracked lips, and his grip slips off your windpipe. It buys you enough time to shove two hands at his chest to have him rolling onto the concrete with a disgruntled curse.

You scramble to stand up to search for your pistol, but a hand grabs at your ankle and yanks you completely off balance. You hit the concrete hard, the impact worsening every possible bruised rib and sending fresh splinters of pain through your already screaming body. But with gritted teeth, you twist your foot and drive it directly into something solid𑁋his jaw. The man’s head snaps back with a splintering crack, his grip loosening around your ankle just enough for you to crawl away.

More black dots begin to swarm your vision as you manage to lunge out and grab your pistol. With shaky fingers, you steady the grip in your hand, just as the man reaches out for you again𑁋

𑁋before a blinding white light fills your vision directly in front of you.

But it isn’t a flashlight. It’s a tac light shining directly on you.

“Police!” a booming voice demands. “Get your fucking hands away from her!”

Even through the distortion ringing in your ears, it’s unmistakable who the voice belongs to. And… he seems to be alone.

The tac light of Seungcheol’s M4 carbine flits down to the duffel man on the ground, painting a red dot perfectly at the man’s chest.

“Put your hands behind your fucking head, asshole,” Seungcheol spits out angrily, squeezing a threatening finger at the trigger to urge him faster. God, his eyes are absolutely fuming. “I won’t tell you twice.”

With a groan, the duffel man finally complies and puts his hands behind his head. Seungcheol then draws his gun to where the other bag-sealer is still huddled with the chemical drums, his unarmed palms sticking out into the air.

“Out! Slow! Hands where I can see them now!” Seungcheol barks out sharply, every word leaving his lips laced with barely there restraint.

The bag-sealer stumbles forward on his knees and presses his cheek down into the filthy floor. “I’m down, I’m down𑁋please don’t shoot me𑁋”

Seungcheol doesn’t take his eyes off either of them for a long minute before directing his focus back to you. He slings the M4 behind his back and kneels by your side immediately, cups your face gently with a gloved hand and wipes a streak of blood from your temple.

“Baby𑁋fuck, talk to me,” he urges, voice softening as if all of his Sergeant steel had been stripped away upon seeing you. “Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? GSW? Stab?”

“Ribs… blunt force,” You rasp out airily, gripping onto his arm for support. “Fuck… Nicked at the head when I hit the ground.”

Seungcheol’s jaw locks so hard you can see the muscle visibly jump. He rips out his IFAK from his vest and presses a gauze pad to the gash above your brow. In the distance, boots pound louder and louder on the floor. The rest of the tactical team floods inside the main room all at once, their sharp commands overlapping over each other. Red dots sweep over the room like lasers, the sounds of handcuffs clicking reverberating through the air.

“Clear left! Clear right!”

“Four suspects! Three in custody, one DOA!”

“Officer down, priority one!” Seungcheol shouts aloud, not even letting his eyes trail away from you once to acknowledge the rest of the team coming in. “Possible internal injuries! Head laceration and no visible GSW!”

You wince as you try to sit up, but Seungcheol refuses to let you.

“Don’t. That’s an order,” he commands lowly, pressing a firm palm to your sternum to keep you flat on the ground. “You try to move one more inch on your own and I’ll cuff you to the gurney myself, rookie.”

You manage a weak smile at that. “Mmmh… sounds kinky, Sergeant.”

Seungcheol just shakes his head in playful disbelief at that, but he brings a hand up to softly cradle your cheek. Behind him, the sounds of flex cuffs are tied around the remaining suspects hands before they’re dragged away and out of sight. Someone loudly calls for the medic unit again. When a singular second passes, Seungcheol only sighs impatiently.

“Goddammit,” he mutters.

Then in the blink of an eye, he shifts his weight, sliding one arm under your shoulders and the other beneath your knees. You barely even register the shift until you find yourself being smoothly hoisted in the air and your temple is suddenly pressed to the hard planes of his chest.

“Sergeant, I can walk𑁋”

“No.” One word is all it takes. Final.

You don’t argue back after that, even if you want to. Seungcheol carries you away from the scene, not stopping until he’s slipping through the open metal door you opened earlier. When the cool air of the night hits your face as he takes you outside and towards a waiting ambulance, you flit your widened eyes around to the absolute chaotic scene of countless other cruisers parked nearby and other officers swarming to secure the area.

Seungcheol sets you down carefully on the retractable steps of the ambulance. His hands still refuse to leave you even as you’ve sat down, letting his body shield you from the noise. One stays cupped at the back of your neck like he doesn’t even trust gravity itself to keep you upright, while the other is braced by your waist. His tactical vest is covered in grime and spots of your blood, still rising and falling too fast from whatever the hell his mind just got dragged through.

You bring a hand of your own up wrap around his wrist in silent reassurance.

“Hey,” You murmur quietly, gazing up at him. “I’m okay.”

He gives you a long, pointed look. “No, you’re not, rookie.”

“...okay-ish, then?”

“No.”

A pained chuckle punches at your ribs from that. But then you barely get to take another breath of the outside air before another voice slices through chaos.

“What the fuck happened here?”

Ah. Lieutenant Hwang, of course. Both you and Seungcheol lift your eyes to see the man of the hour storming in your direction. He takes in the scene around him with a singular brutal sweep, before glancing at the way Seungcheol is practically hovering closely to you that doesn’t exactly scream protocol.

The man’s expression hardens instantly.

“Explain, officer.”

“She needs medical attention, Lieutenant,” Seungcheol cuts in firmly before you could even open your mouth.

Hwang shoots a warning glare at him. “I wasn’t speaking to you, Sergeant.”

Seungcheol doesn’t even blink at that. “If you cared enough, you’d make sure your officer is treated for her injuries so she can answer to whatever the hell you’re about to turn into a disciplinary lecture.”

The air between the two of them quickly becomes taut. You can feel it from where you’re sitting on the ambulance step, the tension cutting through the chatter of nearby officers and the rapid flashing of the red-and-blue lights from surrounding cruisers. A tension between two men of rank and ego who seem to be seconds away from tearing each other up in public.

You give a subtle squeeze to Seungcheol’s wrist. His shoulders visibly relax in the slightest hint. Before either of them could escalate the situation even further, you decide to open your mouth.

“I entered the building because of a suspicious activity call,” You explain hoarsely. “Northside access corridor on the ground floor. I heard movement inside, made a call to go investigate and found a victim with a GSW to the upper arm.”

Hwang’s attention cuts to you. “And?”

“And he told me there were four armed suspects inside packaging illegal narcotics.”

“And your first move was what, exactly?” he asks. “Rush four armed suspects by yourself? Turn this narcotics bust into a full-blown OIS clusterfuck?”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, your ribs protesting against the movement.

“I had a victim bleeding out behind me and a live narcotics operation in front of me,” You tell him as calmly as possible, even if your own thoughts are ablaze with frustration. “Concrete interference wouldn’t push my radio through. I requested medevac and updates on the location of Sergeant Choi’s unit multiple times. No response. Just static. Everything’s on bodycam, Lieutenant. Review it.”

Hwang’s jaw tics. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does,” Seungcheol interjects. “You just don’t like the answer.”

“Stand down, Sergeant.”

“She found the source site.” Seungcheol refuses to back down, taking another half-step between you and Hwang. “She identified it, kept a victim alive long enough for the tactical team to breach through smoothly, and handed you the centre of the operation on a fucking silver platter. Officer L/N made the best decision she could with the information she had.”

Now it’s Seungcheol’s turn to get stared down by you and Hwang. You, with surprise at how much he’s come to defend you with breaking protocol; on the other hand, Hwang is staring at him as if he’s grown a second head on his shoulders. Because at the end of the day: when protocol is clashed with the face of urgency, who wins?

Hwang looks like he might actually explode. His mouth is zipped so tight his lips might tear apart and burst open. But he’s smart enough to not do that in front of the entire department𑁋majority of the precinct is already watching anyway, even if they’re pretending not to be.

“I really am watching the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol transition from nihilism to absurdism right before my eyes,” Hwang mutters backhandedly. “Are you forgetting your place because you’re… emotionally compromised? Broke protocol by separating from your team because your heart got in the way?”

Seungcheol stills at that. For a second, you think he might actually say something that’ll get him suspended, and the thought of it sends an anxious punch to your ribs. Instead, he just huffs out a snicker of disbelief as if he genuinely, genuinely can’t believe the shit he’s hearing right now. But Hwang isn’t wrong though𑁋is he emotionally compromised? Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe you both are. He isn’t the same Sergeant Choi Seungcheol that he was known as before.

“If keeping my officer alive and supporting the fact that she singlehandedly shut down a narcotics bust on her own makes me ‘emotionally compromised,” Seungcheol bites back harshly. “then write the report, Lieutenant. But don’t stand there and reduce my objectivity just because she made a decision under pressure and it worked.”

Hwang stares at him. You’re staring at him too, but for entirely different reasons. As he’s about to open his mouth to retort, a detective in the narcotics department dashes up to him, whispering into his ear something that you can’t exactly make out. But then you watch Hwang’s facial expression deflate like a sad balloon.

His gaze dances between you and Seungcheol as he asks the detective without looking away, “How much product?”

“We calculated an estimate of about twenty-three kilos, sir. Mostly fentanyl presses and crystals. First significant takedown in this quadrant in over a year.”

Hwang pokes a tongue at his cheek. Then he straightens his posture and gives a dismissive, curt nod to the detective.

“You maintained scene integrity and kept all evidence intact,” he speaks with a low, cutthroat tone. “Successfully neutralised three felons with one lethal. Nearly killed yourself in the process with your cowboy mindset. But the outcome…” He pauses hesitantly. “…speaks for itself.”

You blink at that, wondering if you heard the man correctly or if you’ve actually got some sort of concussion. It’s the closest thing to praise he has ever said to you. Hwang then visibly shifts his weight and turns his attention to the paramedics who have been hovering in the sidelines at a respectful distance.

“Get her to a hospital now,” he finally orders the EMTS and begins to turn on his heel. But he takes one last glance at you over his shoulder. “Good work, officer.”

Seungcheol doesn’t move until Hwang is out of earshot, running a hand down his face as if that entire conversation just shaved on ten years of his life.

“Fucking prick,” he mutters under his breath.

You let out a pained laugh. “Takes one to know one, Sergeant.”

He lifts up a thick brow. “You calling me a prick now, rookie?”

“Yep,” You quip with a faint smirk. “But you’ve definitely toned down a lot ever since we… you know… started this.”

Seungcheol gazes down at you with nothing but a look of affection. He tucks away a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger long enough for you to press your cheek against it.

“Yeah. Guess I have,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Now let’s take you to the hospital, rookie.”

Swiftly, Seungcheol and the other paramedics work together to haul you onto the gurney on the ambulance, even though Seungcheol could have really carried you all on his own.

As you’re loaded up into the ambulance, a younger EMT seems to stop Seungcheol in his path from climbing inside.

“Sergeant, you can’t𑁋”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Seungcheol deadpans, levelling the kid with nothing but an even look, leaving no room for negotiation.

The EMT merely blinks, glancing between you and Seungcheol curiously. Then his expression shifts to something more softer and understanding, like he’s seen enough trauma bays to know when not to push. He steps to the side and allows for Seungcheol to hop inside the ambulance and settle onto the seat right next to you on the gurney. They conduct some tests on you: checked your blood pressure and the bruising blooming over your ribs, questioned whether you LOC’d at some point, and made you rate the pain out of ten (you said 5, but Seungcheol’s small glare at you made you confess 8).

“The victim inside…” You mumble, angling your head to Seungcheol. “Did they…?”

“They got him,” Seungcheol reassures you calmly. “The medical team is transporting him now.”

“He’s alive?”

“He’s alive.”

Relief hits you straight in the gut at that, somehow even harder than the gut punch that fucker gave you earlier. You allow your head to fall back to the thin padding of the gurney behind, letting your eyes squeeze shut for a few moments of calmness.

The doors swing shut and the sirens kick on again. The EMT swiftly starts an IV drip into your arm, murmuring about your vitals. You barely register the words that are being said because your focus is solely locked on Seungcheol. He looks so… small compared to the way he looked earlier when he breached inside the factory alone. His gaze is staring down at the space between his combat boots, and his shoulders are curved inwards in a way like he’s trying to hold something𑁋or more specifically, himself𑁋together.

“Sergeant,” You call out to him softly.

Seungcheol picks his head up immediately at your voice.

“You’re shaking.”

He bites down at his bottom lip, his gloved hands are stained with your blood. Then his eyes dart between the IV drip going into your arm, to the bruise beginning to paint your neck where you were grabbed, and taking in the way your breathing sounds so shallow from the pain in your ribs.

“I’m fine,” he says instinctively.

You don’t buy it for a single second.

“Seungcheol,” You say properly this time, reaching over to cover your hand over his. “Talk to me.”

You don’t want him to shut down𑁋you can’t let him shut down into himself. Especially not after all that’s happened between you both. Seungcheol stares down at the way your hand is gripping onto his, desperately trying to coax him out of the imaginary claws of his own thoughts that’s been clawing at him. For a minute, he just says absolutely nothing. You watch his throat bob hesitantly.

“You have… no idea how fast I broke protocol the second I heard the gunshots, how fast I separated from the damn team,” he says roughly. “I couldn’t even fucking breathe when your radio kept cutting out. Couldn’t even…” His voice trails off, jaw flexing. “I thought I was too late by the time I reached you. Thought I would find you on the ground the way I found him.”

Him. You don’t even need to ask him for clarification to know who he’s talking about.

“I can’t turn my brain off,” Seungcheol croaks out shakily, unconsciously tightening his grip on your hand. “No matter how many times I tell myself that you’re alive, it just keeps replaying in my mind over and over again and I can’t𑁋”

He’s interrupted when he feels his body suddenly get pressed up against yours. You ignore the sharp protest in your ribs and the tug of the IV line as you push yourself just enough to wrap both arms around him.

Seungcheol seems to fold without any sort of resistance, his hands coming up to bracket your sides like he’s afraid of putting any weight on you, but he lets his head fall onto your shoulder. You slide a hand through the short hair on his nape to tug him closer. The bulkiness of his tactical vest digs into your shoulder slightly, but you don’t give a crap about that. You swear you’d take a thousand bruises if it meant he’d allow himself to break for a single minute in your hold.

“I’ve got you,” You whisper into his ear, and you feel the shudder that rumbles through him. “I’m right here, see? I’m not going anywhere.”

He adjusts his head so that his face is buried into the crook of your neck. Then you feel the softest press of his lips to the skin there. It’s not exactly a kiss, but more like him making sure that your pulse is still beating soundly under his mouth.

“I thought…” His voice cracks again. “Fuck𑁋I thought I lost you, baby. If I was just thirty seconds too late𑁋”

“No,” You hush him quietly. “You got to me just in time. Trust me.”

Seungcheol draws back slightly to roam his eyes over your features, the fluorescent lights casting a streak of shadow across his softened features. He flickers back and forth between dried blood crusting at your brow, down to the heaviness in your eyes from exhaustion, and finally, down to your chapped lips, where he lingers for a few moments too long. He traces his thumb carefully over the side of your jaw.

“You stupid, recklessly stubborn, goddamn beautiful pain in my ass,” Seungcheol mutters. The suddenness of the words nearly hit you like a slap to the face. “Who has zero self-preservation and always thinks she’s bulletproof. I hate it. I hate that you scare me like this. That you drive me up the fucking wall every time you open your mouth.”

Then he drops his forehead onto yours and lets his eyes squeeze shut. A shaky inhale from him caresses over your lips.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” he whispers with a shudder. “And… And I’m still going to love you for it. I love you so much it scares the hell out of me, rookie, and tonight almost broke me. I-I thought I almost lost you without ever getting to tell you.”

You sense the exact second the words register in you. You swallow down a lump in your throat, tasting copper and antiseptic and the saltiness of tears gathering in your eyelids.

“Say it again,” You whisper.

Seungcheol pulls back a hint to meet your gaze. He doesn’t even try to look away or take it back. A tiny, crooked smile breaks across his face as he runs a gloved fingertip over the dried blood at the corner of your lip.

“I love you,” he repeats more steadily this time. “I do.”

You don’t hesitate after that. You grab him by the vest and seal his lips onto yours with whatever strength you have left. A low groan tumbles out of Seungcheol’s throat before he’s kissing you back just as fiercely. He cups the side of your uninjured face while the other hand braces on the gurney rails so he doesn’t put any weight on you. The kiss tastes of blood and fear and leftover adrenaline, but also love.

You ignore the uncomfortable tug of the IV line on your arm and the sharp stab of your ribs with every shallow inhale. All that matters right now is the man in front of you who is kissing you back while the rest of the world burns outside. It’s living proof that you both made it out together.

When you both break away from air, he presses his forehead against yours.

“I love you too,” You tell him finally, letting out a tired, happy chuckle. “Choi Seungcheol.”

And for once, the legendary Sergeant Choi Seungcheol appears completely wrecked. The man who abided protocol by the book has been cracked down, leaving away the hard shell of Sergeant until only Seungcheol remains. His lips meet your forehead with his eyes squeezed shut𑁋less like a kiss and more like him trying to imprint himself on your skin.

Because tonight, you both almost lost everything. But in the end, you gained this. Two officers, opposites in personality, yet similar in many you both hardly realised until now. Somewhere along the way, between protocol and emotion, your hearts collided and refused to bend to the rules of the world together.

This will always be the moment that stays with you: the moment a man who once kept the world at arm’s length chose you instead.

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