#jun x you

[oceannote]

SVT - Concert Argument

Note from author: Oh, woowww, another angsty/argument-related post??? 👀👀👀 Who would have thought??? On a more serious note, thank you babes for keeping up with me, I know that for the past few months I have been extremly bad at posting, but I am trying to get back to it, because I love it. Hope you will enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it.♥️♥️ Summary: Hyung Line having an argument with you before the concert. And yes, it is always their fault because the girlies are always right 🫰🏻 Warnings: None, just my delusions 🤟🏻

1️⃣ S.Coups:

You and Cheol fought like every couple, but you two always managed to add a little extra heat. The slammed calls, the texts sharper than they needed to be, tiny sparks that sometimes lit up into something bigger when nerves were high.

Now he was backstage, minutes from opening night. The hum of the crowd pressed against the walls like a heartbeat. He’d done this a hundred times, but tonight the argument sat heavily on his shoulders. He’d called you ten times in the last two hours. No answer. Location off. His thoughts ran in tight circles.

A tech clipped the last cable into his in-ear pack. Out of the corner of his eye, movement. He turned, and there you were, leaning against a metal pillar, arms crossed, watching him.

“Babe…” It came out small, like he’d set it carefully on the floor.

You pushed off the pillar with a sigh that carried the whole fight and set it down between you. “Hey, petty boy.”

He almost smiled. Almost. The staff tried to gather his cables as he stepped toward you, dragging two of them like confused ducklings.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, voice low, eyes searching your face like it might vanish.

“I know,” you said softly, hand lifting to touch his cheek before you caught yourself. “You have to go.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he blurted. “Not like that. I was…tired. And scared. And then you hung up and…”

“You hung up first,” you said, but there was no venom in it. Just the fact of it.

His mouth twisted. “Right. I did. I panicked. I hate when you’re not here.”

“I turned my location off because I needed a minute,” you said. “Not because I was disappearing.”

He nodded too fast. “I know. I know now. I just…God, I spiralled. I kept thinking you were out there upset, and I put you there and…”

A stagehand waved from the wings, two minutes.

You put your palm flat on his chest. Felt his heart kick. “Cheol.”

He stilled.

“We’re not perfect,” you said. “But I’m here. I came.”

He swallowed. “Can we talk after? Really talk? Not…across a battlefield.”

“Yes,” you said. “After. No phones. No dramatic exits.”

A breath of a laugh broke out of him, surprised and grateful. “Deal.”

Another wave, one minute.

He leaned in, forehead touching yours. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter, like the apology belonged right between you and nowhere else.

“I know,” you repeated, and this time you let your hand find his jaw, thumb warm against the edge of his in-ear wire. “I’m mad, and I love you. Both can be true.”

His eyes softened. “I love you. I never doubt that part. I just…sometimes I don’t know how to hold it without squeezing too hard.”

“Then don’t squeeze,” you said. “Just hold.”

He let out a breath. The noise of the crowd swelled, a wave rolling toward shore.

“Go,” you said, giving his chest a gentle push. “Go do what you do. I’ll be right here when you come off.”

2️⃣ Jeonghan:

Ah, yes, petty fights if you’ve ever seen one. Not the door-slamming, plate-shattering kind with this one. Worse. The kind where he goes quiet. He doesn’t raise his voice, he just withdraws, face smooth as glass, and starves you of words until your own start curdling in your throat. And the worst part? He’s not blameless. He knows it. You know it. You’d spent the afternoon chasing him from room to room like a shadow begging its owner to turn around. Five hours ago, you finally gave up, snatched your keys, and walked out before you said something you couldn’t unsay.

Now, backstage, Jeonghan realizes he may have engineered his own undoing.

He’s a man of ritual and superstition. Every show, the same three things, exactly three sips of warm water; shoulder rolls, two forward, four back, and a text from you that reads, without fail, “I love you, you are the best.” Four years of concerts, and not one has started without that message.

Tonight, the cup is there. The shoulders roll. But his phone stays silent.

“Jeonghan, I’m telling you again,” his manager says, palm flat to his chest, stopping him mid-step. “You can’t go off now. You’re on in five.”

“Please,” Jeonghan says, trying to keep his voice even and failing. “I know she’s here. Just two minutes. I need to find her.”

“She’s not,” the manager replies, already glancing at the clock. “I checked the guest list twice. She didn’t check in. Shoes on. Now.”

Jeonghan exhales, the sound short and sharp. He swallows his third sip of water like it’s a dare, shoves his feet into his shoes, and snatches a mic from a staff member with a muttered “Thanks.”

On the lift, lights humming underneath, the arena thundering above like weather, he stares at the metal grate as if it might blink first.

“Stage face.” Joshua says lightly, squeezing the space between Jeonghan’s shoulder blades. “Whatever it is, park it for three hours.”

“I am really not in the mood for motivational speeches, man…,” Jeonghan mutters, not looking up.

The lift rises. The roar swells. The first note hits, and habit takes the wheel. Jeonghan smiles on cue, sings on pitch, moves cleanly through the choreography, but he’s moving through fog. The crowd is a blur of lightsticks and glittered signs. He hits mark after mark like the floor is telling him where to go.

Three songs in, “Rock with You” crackles in his ear, and the left catwalk calls him like it always does. He goes, feet finding the rhythm his heart can’t. He makes himself look, really look, into the crowd, scanning faces and posters and hands.

And there you are.

You’re pressed against the barrier with your best friend clinging to your elbow, hair a little messy like you ran here, eyes bright and stubborn. You’re jumping to be seen, a poster rattling in your grip. The letters are crooked, the marker is too light in places as if the ink gave up halfway through, and the message is ridiculous and perfect: “I love you, you are the best.”

His mouth opens on a silent laugh. His shoulders, rigid for hours, loosen like a knot finally working free. He stops dead on the catwalk, and for a split second, the world funnels down to you and a sign that was clearly made ten minutes ago on a piece of poster board stolen from someone’s convenience store.

Your eyes catch his, and the annoyance you’ve been feeding all evening dies without ceremony. He doesn’t need the text. He’s reading it twelve feet away.

He mouths, slow enough for you to catch it, ‘I love you more.’

3️⃣ Joshua:

Joshua wasn’t the kind of guy who yelled. Even when you were wrong, and he knew you knew it, he didn’t raise his voice. He just… left. Not with his feet. With his eyes. The room would still hold his body, but he’d be gone, somewhere colder, somewhere you couldn’t reach. That was the worst part of fighting with Joshua, the way his quiet could make you feel like the smallest person on the planet. And he knew it.

Two days since the stupid argument, two days of clipped texts and swallowed words, and the scene kept looping in his head as he sat under the bright bulbs of the makeup mirror. The artist dabbed eyeshadow along his lids, he barely blinked.

“With or without?” someone asked behind him.

“Huh?” Joshua snapped back to the room, blinking at his reflection.

“With or without the glasses,” Hoshi said louder, pointing at the sunglasses perched on Joshua’s head like a second thought.

“It’s pitch black outside,” Joshua muttered, twisting in his chair. “Why on earth would I wear sunglasses?”

“Goddamn, you still got your panties in a bunch?” Cheol drawled from the next chair, eyes never leaving his own mirror. He adjusted his in-ear monitors like they’d personally offended him.

“I’m fine,” Joshua said, too quickly.

“Mhm.” Cheol went back to smoothing a flyaway strand, the unimpressed kind of “mhm” that meant he didn’t believe a word.

The room kept moving without Joshua. Stylists darted past with lint rollers and garment bags, a stagehand counted down minutes in a steady, rising voice. Someone laughed too loud by the door. He tried to care about the set list, the timing, the blocking, but his mind kept snagging on the last thing he’d said to you, and the way your face had fallen right before you shut the door.

Forty minutes later, the real countdown started echoing through the hallways. Joshua stood, suddenly all fingers and panic. His shirt, for reasons known only to the shirt, refused to cooperate.

“I swear to God, if this…” He yanked the hem, careful and not careful all at once. The collar snagged his mic wire. “…stupid shirt…”

He wrestled it over his head and felt his carefully shellacked hairstyle protest. A warm hand landed lightly on his bicep.

“Stop,” you said.

He froze. When he lowered the shirt, you were right there. No mascara tracks, no storm left in your eyes, just a soft focus he hadn’t earned yet. You didn’t meet his gaze. You adjusted the mic pack, unfastened the top button with steady fingers, then slid the shirt over his shoulders so it didn’t disturb a single gelled strand.

“There,” you murmured, smoothing the fabric over his chest with a tight-lipped smile “, See you after the show.”

You turned on your heel, already leaving, already taking air with you. Two days of radio silence clawed at Joshua’s throat. He moved before his brain could talk him out of it, slipping into step beside you as staff scrambled around, calling cues and carrying headsets like life preservers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breath catching as someone clipped his transmitter in place.

You didn’t slow. “I’m sorry too.”

“I was dumb.” Hands swept over him, powder here, tape there, and still he kept his eyes on you. “I hate it when I get like that. I know I… leave.”

“You don’t leave,” you said, finally glancing at him. “You vanish while standing right in front of me. It hurts.”

“I know.” He swallowed.

A stage manager hustled by, counting down, “Three minutes! Three!”, and then someone tugged at Joshua’s waistband to hide a wire. He caught your hand before it fell back to your side and held it, quick and secret.

He exhaled, the closest thing to relief he’d felt in forty-eight hours. “I love you,” he whispered, the words almost lost under the thud of bass through the floor.

“I love you too.” You gave him a tiny, conspiratorial wink, as if it were a shared joke that love could be this loud and this delicate at once.

“Final checks!” someone called. A makeup artist floated in with a sponge, reaching for his mouth.

“Wait,” Joshua said, catching the artist’s wrist with a gentle apology in his eyes. He turned back to you, cupped your face like he could anchor himself to something softer than adrenaline, and kissed you. Not a timid hallway peck, something sure and grounding.

He let you go, just far enough. He nodded to the makeup artist. “Okay. Now I’m ready.”

4️⃣ Jun:

“I need to take your phone, Jun.” His manager’s hand was already outstretched, steady and impatient, waiting for him to drop it before stepping onto the stage.

Jun stared at the screen a second longer than he should have. Letting go felt harder than it usually did, harder than it ever had, especially when he still hadn’t heard from you. In a few seconds, he’d be logged off from the world for over four hours, cut off completely, and the silence scared him more than the crowd ever could.

You were usually backstage by now. A quick kiss for luck, a quiet smile just for him, a few painfully unfunny jokes shared with the others. Familiar things. Comforting things. But tonight, you weren’t there. And worse, he didn’t even know when he’d see you next, not with the way the coming weeks were packed.

He knew how this looked. He knew he messed up.

It wasn’t intentional, not really. He’d landed hours earlier than planned and thought, stupidly, that he could surprise you. One good moment carved out of a chaotic schedule. But idol life didn’t leave room for nice plans. What was supposed to be an early return to Seoul for a last-minute podcast recording turned into you discovering, through the internet, of all things, that your boyfriend had lied about when he was coming home.

That was the part that hurt the most. Not the lie itself, but the way you found out. And Jun knew better than anyone how much you hated that.

“I am so screwed,” he muttered as the stage elevator doors slid shut behind them.

“Could’ve been worse,” Minghao replied calmly.

Jun let out a helpless breath and leaned back against the metal rail. “She’s not even gonna talk to me after this,” he said. “It’s so fucking stupid.” His eyes fell shut like that might make it disappear.

“All you’re doing right now is making it worse,” Minghao said, eyes still on the script in his hands. “Your mood isn’t gonna magically fix itself like this. And you’ve still got a whole concert to get through.”

“I know, but it feels like I made her think I don’t care,” Jun said quietly, fingers fidgeting with the mic. “Do you know how much it hurt when I called her after filming and it went straight to voicemail?” His voice wavered despite himself. “Or when I got here and the driver told me she refused the pickup and told them to leave without her?”

For the first time, Minghao glanced up at him. “Apologize later,” he said simply. “Focus now.”

The elevator jolted, began its ascent, and suddenly the arena exploded, screams, light, sound crashing over him all at once. The world demanded everything from him, whether he was ready or not.

Time stretched painfully thin. Each song dragged, each transition felt heavier than the last. It was like the universe knew exactly what he was waiting for and decided to be cruel about it.

When the concert finally ended, Jun had never moved faster in his life.

He grabbed his phone the second he was allowed to, heart pounding as he unlocked it. Part of him expected the notification bar to be empty, just like when he’d left it hours ago. No messages. No calls. Nothing.

The other part of him, stupidly hopeful, prayed for anything.

His breath caught when he saw it.

A video. From you.

It was a short clip of him onstage earlier, lights blazing behind him, a small pink heart added in the corner. His chest tightened so hard it almost hurt. He didn’t think, he just called you immediately.

It rang twice.

“Hello?” Your voice cut through the backstage noise, soft and familiar, and it nearly broke him.

“I’m so sorry,” Jun rushed out. “Y/n, I swear I’m the stupidest person on the planet, I’m so sorry, I can’t even…”

“Hey. Hey,” you interrupted gently, firm in that way you always were. “Breathe. You’re tripping over your own words.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he said, resting his forehead against the cold, damp wall. “I thought I could surprise you, pick you up after filming. Everything ran over schedule, and I couldn’t get to you. I should’ve told you.”

“It was stupid,” you said quietly.

The silence that followed pressed down on him, heavy and unmistakable.

“I know,” he whispered, fingers tightening around his phone. “I’m really sorry. I wish I’d told you. Thank you for coming. I really wanted to see you.”

“I left early,” you said. He could hear the TV murmuring in the background. “Didn’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“I really thought you wouldn’t,” he admitted.

There was a pause, then your voice softened.

“Come home, Jun.”

The tension in his chest finally loosened, warmth flooding in like relief he hadn’t dared to expect.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he said with a deep, shaky sigh.

5️⃣ Hoshi:

“If it’s so freaking stupid, then why did you even come?” Hoshi’s voice slices through the waiting room, sharp enough to make the air stand still.

You’re sitting on one of those stiff wooden chairs, laptop open on your knees, the click-clack of backstage chaos muted now that the room has gone quiet. Hoshi stands by the door, already half in his sound-check outfit, hand gripping the handle like he’s holding himself back from saying more.

“Babe…” you whisper, pushing yourself up from the chair.

“No. Don’t ‘babe’ me.” His jaw tightens as he pulls the thin door halfway open. “I have a concert to finish. This is my job, Y/N.”

“I know,” you say, softer than intended, but he’s already put three long strides and a wall between you.

“No, you clearly don’t.” He lets out a dry laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing my head in about how annoying it is that you have to sit in ‘stupid random rooms’ while I’m freezing my ass off on stage.”

He doesn’t wait for your reply. He slips out, letting the door close behind him, taking every bit of warmth with him.

You blink, and suddenly the argument feels like it had exploded out of nowhere. Twenty minutes ago you were just venting, complaining about how your degree is eating every spare second and how you’re stuck studying anywhere you can. You weren’t attacking him. You were tired and overwhelmed, and he was the one person you thought you could unload on.

But you hadn’t read the room. You knew he was stressed today, that’s why you’d come early, laptop and textbooks in tow. What you didn’t account for was how sensitive Soonyoung becomes when he’s anxious about a performance. One stray spark, and everything went up in flames.

Three hours pass before you admit he isn’t coming back. Not between rehearsals. Not between sets. Not even just to peek in. So you gather your things and slip out quietly to find a better spot before the concert starts.

Meanwhile, thirty minutes later, Hoshi finally comes back to his senses. He returns expecting you there, hunched over your laptop, hair falling in your face, looking up at him with that soft smile you always give him, even when you’re exhausted.

Instead, he finds an empty room. An empty chair. An empty space where you should be.

His stomach drops straight to the floor.

He realizes, fully and painfully, that he snapped at you for nothing. The epiphany had already hit halfway through sound check, but now the guilt settles in like ice. And if performing a four-hour show is hard while stressed, try doing it with a knot of shame sitting permanently in your throat.

Hoshi scans the crowd at least fifteen times during the concert. He double-checks the VIP box so often the cameras probably think he’s doing a bit. Each time he doesn’t find even the tiniest glimpse of you, another crack forms in his chest.

By the time the final encore ends and he steps off the backstage elevator, he’s running on autopilot. Sweat clings to him, clothes sticking to chilled skin. His heart is hammering, not from the choreography, but from dread.

The moment he pushes through the rolling door into the main hallway, his thoughts are racing at a hundred kilometers per hour, until his eyes land on you.

You’re standing there with his mother, laughing over something on your phone, face lit up with the kind of smile he’d convinced himself he’d ruined for the night.

“Thank God,” he breathes, barely audible, before he breaks into a full jog.

You don’t even have time to look up. Suddenly, you’re wrapped in a tight, sweaty embrace, pulled flush against him as he buries his face on top of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice cracking, kissing your hair again and again, quick, frantic, apologetic. “I was so rude. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Babe, we’re okay,” you mumble into his chest, voice muffled by his damp shirt.

“Where were you?” he asks, loosening the hug just enough to see you but not enough to actually let go.

“I was in the box with your parents.” You cup his freezing cheeks with your warm hands. “God, Soonyoung, you’re ice cold.”

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” he says dramatically, lower lip jutting out. “I thought I’d died of a broken heart.”

“Actually,” you start, reaching for your phone, “my resident doctor said that’s…”

“Just shut up, idiot,” he laughs, lifting your chin with one cold hand and kissing you before you can finish.

6️⃣ Wonwoo:

You and Wonwoo had always fought the same way, your temper flaring fast and loud, his patience trying to match your pace, always half a step behind. It usually ended with you going quiet, a self-imposed silence you stretched for as long as you could manage. You knew it was childish. You knew it bordered on unfair. Sometimes it even left you wondering if you asked too much of his patience, if taking up that much emotional space made you difficult to love.

But this time, this time, it really was his fault. And you were allowed to be mad.

It was 7 p.m., halfway through their Seoul concert, and you were seated in the VIP box with family members and a few partners of the other members. The bass thumped through the stadium, the cheers rising and falling like waves, but you barely registered any of it. You stayed rooted to your chair, jaw tight, tongue pressing firmly into the inside of your cheek as if holding everything back physically might keep you from unravelling emotionally.

Two hours earlier, Wonwoo had said it, that he found it a bit pathetic that you still got so nervous. After all these years together, after countless shared meals and backstage hellos with the other girlfriends, you still hovered near him, still needed his presence as an anchor. You knew his words hadn’t come from malice. His intentions were clumsy, not cruel. But stress turned him blunt to the point of carelessness, and you had taken the full impact of that, again.

Across the stadium, Wonwoo stood under blinding lights, smiling wide as he moved in sync with the rest of the members. To anyone watching, he looked carefree, electric, fully in his element. But even as he laughed into the mic, he knew what waited for him once the music stopped. An apology. One he owed you badly.

“Why are you looking like that?” Cheol murmured through a smile, leaning in close enough that the audience wouldn’t notice.

“Not the moment,” Wonwoo muttered back, careful with his lips. He was painfully aware of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of eyes on them.

“Then stop acting like something’s wrong,” Cheol replied, patting his back before dancing off to the other side of the stage like nothing had happened.

By the time they reached their final goodbye, you weren’t in the VIP box anymore. You were backstage now, standing beside his dad and brother, bouquet in hand as tradition dictated. Your chest felt tight, like anticipation and frustration were tangled together somewhere beneath your ribs.

Less than five minutes later, he appeared.

Sweat clung to him, his hair falling messily onto his forehead, glasses slightly fogged from the sudden shift in temperature. He looked exactly like he always did after a show, exhausted, glowing, adrenaline still humming under his skin.

You expected the routine. A hug for his dad. Mingyu bursting in with a loud joke. A long, solid embrace with his brother. And then you, a quick kiss, familiar and grounding.

But he changed direction at the last second.

Before you could even process it, his arms were around your torso, still moving forward, making you stumble back a step or two with him. He looked down at you, eyes soft, almost apologetic, the kind of look you knew too well.

“I was rude,” he said quietly.

You scoffed under your breath. “Oh. So now you’re self-aware?”

“Stress got the best of me,” he replied, calm, steady. No defensiveness this time.

“Not an excuse,” you shot back, arms still hanging stiffly at your sides.

“I know.” His voice softened further. “But you know I love having you around. I call you when I’m at the grocery store, even when you’re literally waiting for me in bed.” He laughed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That was really dumb of me to say.”

He reached up, gently brushing your bangs behind your ear, his touch tentative, as if he was giving you room to pull away.

“I’ll have to think about it,” you said, even as you felt the walls you’d built starting to crumble, piece by piece.

“Come on,” he murmured, dipping his head slightly until his nose brushed yours. “I missed you.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, a lazy smile betraying you as his breath warmed your lips. “You’re not playing fair.”

“Mmm,” was all he answered before his lips finally met yours, slow, apologetic, and familiar. You tasted salt from his sweat, warmth from his skin, and the last traces of the pettiness that had filled the space between you just hours ago, dissolving completely.

7️⃣ Woozi:

Two stubborn people with matching egos and a tendency to misfire in communication are a recipe for unnecessary tension. Anyone who’s seen you and Woozi argue would say the same: it starts small, escalates fast, and somehow lasts way longer than it ever needed to.

Woozi has always been the type who can feel an argument brewing before you even open your mouth, someone who already knows the solution before the problem fully forms. He loves you with a kind of quiet certainty that threads through every part of his life.

But the past two weeks had stretched both of you thin. Him on tour across three time zones, you flying out for a conference, barely catching each other awake. Silence settled where the comfort used to be. And then that Dispatch article, him at dinner with a female co-star, which he had mentioned in passing, but you hadn’t truly heard because you were both exhausted. You blocked him in a moment of pride and irritation, and by the time he tried reaching out, he didn’t have the energy to push harder. Not then. Not while performing, traveling, barely sleeping.

Now it was the night of their encore show in Seoul. He knew you’d flown home last night, he saw the ring camera notification light up, and it gnawed at him that you still hadn’t unblocked him. He’d tried twice today to stop by your apartment, but both times, you weren’t home. The not knowing was eating him alive.

“If it makes you feel better…” Dino says around a mouthful of egg sandwich, “my girlfriend tried calling her too. Went straight to voicemail.”

“Yeah, she turned her phone off,” Woozi mutters, exhaling hard as he scrolls through Instagram without really seeing anything.

“I think this is the longest I’ve seen you two go without talking,” Joshua adds, sliding behind him and squeezing his shoulders in sympathy.

“Petty ass fight,” Woozi mumbles, eyes glued to his screen as if he stared long enough, you’d appear.

“Petty ass fight?”

Your voice cuts clean through the room. The whole group freezes, and Jihoon’s head snaps around so fast it looks painful.

There you stand, cold from the outside, warmer from anger, looking directly at him. And he can’t decide if he wants to run to you or brace for an explosion.

“That’s what you tell them?” you continue, stepping inside the threshold of the dressing room. “That we’re fighting because of some petty argument? Not because you went to dinner with another woman while I was out of town?”

Silence folds over the room like a blanket no one asked for.

Jihoon swallows. Hard. “Let’s not do this here,” he says quietly, quiet but firm, and heads toward the hallway. You follow, footsteps sharp against the concrete.

The makeshift corridor beneath the stage is freezing, and every breath you take comes out visible. Jihoon stands a few feet away, hands balled in his pockets, eyes never leaving you.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“Why did you stop by my place?” Your voice wavers, but your stare doesn’t. “My neighbours saw you there. Twice.”

“You’re my girlfriend, for fuck’s sake, Y/N.” He lets out a humourless laugh. “You blocked me like we’re in high school.”

“You went out to dinner with another woman, and I had to learn about it through Dispatch.” You step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest once, sharp, accusing. “That makes me feel like you’re treating us like some high school fling.”

Jihoon inhales, eyes flicking down for a moment. He knows this is the worst possible moment, right before a concert, right after weeks apart. He also knows he loves you more than he loves being right.

So he does the one thing guaranteed to break the spiral.

“You’re embarrassing yourself right now,” he murmurs, not cruel, just honest, and he gently removes his hands from his pockets, reaching for your wrists. One by one, he lifts your hands and places them around his waist, holding them there. Holding you there.

The closeness steals the fight right out of the air. His eyes roam your face like he’s relearning it, and suddenly you feel both exposed and wrapped up in something warm.

“You know I’m in love with you,” he says, forehead dipping toward yours, voice barely more than breath. “So don’t second-guess it again.”

He presses a soft kiss onto your cold lips, lingering.

“Okay?” he whispers.

[joshujin]

100 Days with the Devil (part one)

🔞 18+ 🚨 minors and blank blogs will be blocked masterlist • part one • part two

When you inherit your parents' unpaid debt to the Devil, you're given two choices: serve their eternal sentence of servitude in Hell or negotiate a contract of your own. Surprisingly, choosing the latter and accepting a position to become his live-in assistant doesn't exactly dole out the torment you expect it to. As Hell begins to feel more like home than Earth ever did, both you and your impossibly ancient boss find yourselves navigating a far more confusing negotiation: falling in love.

PAIRING: devil!junhui x assistant fem!reader WC: 20.6K / 40K (complete) TAGS: crack, humor, roommate/boss to lover CW: implied demisexual reader, corporate hell, power dynamic, demons, kidnapping, mentions of alcohol, mentions of vomit, mentions of eternal servitude, bad parents, reader has abandonment/attachment issues and is clingy, god is a woman, mentions of torture and people in hell, brief appearance of a cult/cult leader, mention of the orange man, jealous junhui, possessive junhui, kinda toxic junhui in pt2 but bruh he's the devil so SMUT (IN PT. 2): marked at start and end, unprotected piv, creampie, virgin reader, possessive, fingering, oral f. receiving, sniffing? lol, his eyes turn completely black during oral, hickeys, biting, lotus, missionary, idk lmk if i missed anything A/N: mad bc this is DONE and tumblr just doesn't want to let me post bc it exceeds the 1000 block limit. and i'm way too lazy to ctrl+shift every fucking paragraph in this. so. two parts it is. you can see when the next part will be published in the second A/N at the end. anyway, this was supposed to be ready by jun's birthday but work decided to ruin my life. belated happy bubonic boy day. this is based off a dream i had on june 14, 2025; i know bc i wrote it in my notes app the morning after LOL. this is needlessly long and reads like a sitcom with a lot of filler episodes but idc i love devil hui bwahahaha. enjoy love ya bye.

DAY ONE

"AND THIS WILL BE YOUR LIVING QUARTERS. DO YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS?"

You stare up at the man, baffled. The stranger who was waiting for you in your living room when you drunkenly stumbled home could not look any less bothered if he tried. He had been seated in the secondhand armchair you bought off Facebook Marketplace, and he looked way too expensive to have his ass touching something you kept telling yourself had no business being resold to you. He was dressed head to toe in black—all impressively the same exact shade of black, a feat you had yet to master—looking like he had stepped right off a runway and into your dingy apartment, which was probably the only reason you hadn't immediately screamed.

His eyes flicked over to you lazily as your door slammed shut behind you and you tripped over your heels, catching yourself on the corner of your kitchen island before realizing you weren't alone. He had one leg crossed over the other and one hand shoved into your last bag of ghost pepper chips as he stared at you like you were intruding on his space. Then, he withdrew his hand, shoved his pepper dusted fingers into his mouth, sucked briefly, wiped his fingers onto your armchair, then snapped. Your bag of chips promptly disappeared and he stood up. It wasn't even his presence or the chips disappearing without an explanation. It was his height that startled you back to your senses.

You weren't short by any means, but the man towered over you anyway, and you came to the sobering realization that being trapped in a space with a man that size would lead to very horrible things. Well, you were correct. Because before you could even finish inhaling to let out the loudest scream you were capable of, he was in front of you, huge hand clamping over your mouth and squeezing your cheeks together. What you were sure was a Guinness World Record-worthy scream became a pathetic squeak.

The sound, infuriatingly, made the man smirk, your eyes coming down to the small mole right above his lip. He raised a single eyebrow at you before stating your full government name. "That you?"

Your wide eyes must have answered the question for you because he didn't wait for verbal confirmation.

"Lovely." And then somehow, you were here. Wherever the fuck here is. Maybe you blacked out on the way. Maybe you're too drunk to remember how you got here. Either way, here is where you are now.

"Do I have any questions?" you shriek, stomping a foot. Your heel clacks against the pretentious black marble flooring, and you have half a mind to kick them off and throw both at the man's head. "You not only kidnapped me, but you kidnapped me while in my clubbing clothes, bro."

You look down at yourself, disheveled from a night out trying desperately to be sober enough to wrangle other, drunker friends to stay together. Your dress is no longer hugging you in places it was at the beginning of the night, your knees are scraped from where you ate shit trying to chase a friend down the street, and you're sure your hair is trying its best to become a suitable bird's nest.

"Jasmine threw up on me tonight," you inform him, mouth twisting in disgust at the small darkened spot on the edge of your dress where the birthday girl had missed the toilet by a mere inch. "You couldn't have let me change first?"

You startle when he snaps and you feel silk against your skin. You look down to find yourself in a black pajama set, perfectly fitted to you, the bottoms falling just shy of the floor and the sleeves just long enough to make sweater paws if you want them but short enough that they aren't a hindrance.

"Ew," you mutter. "I didn't even shower."

"Luckily for you, you have an en suite," he points out, nodding at the door across the massive bedroom.

"I don't have toiletries."

"You'll find it appropriately stocked."

"But what about my skincare?"

"Again. Appropriately stocked."

"You don't even know my skin concerns."

"Oily on the chin and T-zone, dry everywhere else. Terrible hormonal acne during your period or when you're stressed," he recites like he studied this information. Your mouth pops open in either awe or humiliation—you're not even sure. "You struggle with water intake throughout the day so you'll find a litany of moisturizing products in there. Also, maybe you should start using retinoids." His eyes go to your forehead. "You crinkle your eyebrows a lot. You'll get fine lines soon."

You gasp, slapping a hand over your forehead. "You asshole."

"I'm the asshole giving you all the skincare you could possibly ever want."

"You're the asshole kidnapping me!" you scream the last two words, finally losing your patience.

You thought your best bet would be finding a way to escape wherever you are once the man left you alone, but the mere mention of fine lines kicks you into fight or flight. You swing your tiny shoulder purse at his stomach as hard as you can, satisfied when you hear a soft oof from his lips. You shove past him, your new bunny slippers slowing you down considerably as you stumble down the pristine hallway. You only get to the corner before you slam into what feels like a wall, eating shit for the second time tonight.

"Ugh," you grunt as your ass meets the floor and you're laid out flat on your back. "Ow." You groan, hand coming to your ass while the other attempts to prop you up. You open your eyes to find the stranger crouching down in front of you, amused at your weak attempt at freedom. You glower at him as you massage your butt. "I hate you."

"And you're only going to hate me more," he mutters. The words give you pause. "You have free reign in my home." He stands now, tucking his large hands into the pockets of his slacks. "You can try to run but you'll find you can't. So you might as well get comfortable, and when you've finally come to terms with your circumstances… we'll talk."

Without another word, he disappears right before your very eyes.

DAY FOUR

For three days, you tried everything you could to escape.

You found your phone in your purse and tried calling your friends. They answered and you could talk, but as soon as you tried to tell them you'd been kidnapped, your mouth would suddenly be incapable of moving—like your lips had been glued shut. Terrifyingly enough, on your third call, you walked to the vanity in your room and found your mouth just gone any time you tried to say anything that had to do with the stranger and his house of horrors.

The most horrific thing being that it has no windows or exits. Every single door you've found and tried in this laughably huge house has led to a bedroom, a study, a library, a home theater, a gym, or a space that made no sense to you—one with nothing but racks and racks of clothes and shoes from what looked like every, single period of time in history, ever. Another stuffed to the brim with huge stacks of papers that reached the ceiling. Another with A/C blasting hard, presumably to keep the furniture completely crafted from ice inside rock solid.

The house made no sense, but in that way, it made perfect sense that it belonged to the weirdo that kidnapped you. Now, it's day four, you know the house like the back of your hand, and all your phone calls are spent pretending like you're fine while Stella tells you about her piece of shit boyfriend and begs you not to tell Marisol so she won't hate him any more than she already does. Please. If you're going to tell Marisol anything, it's going to be about your piece of shit kidnapper.

But beyond calling for help and finding an escape, you find that you're fresh out of ideas to find your way out. And sensing that, the stranger appears at your bedroom door first thing when you wake up, a small smirk on those pink lips as he leans against the doorframe, long, lean and dressed in a different variation of the same, black outfit. This time, with a winter coat that comes down to his ankles dramatically.

"Good morning. Kind of."

You scoff, pulling your eye mask back down over your eyes. "It's the middle of summer, you psycho."

"Had some business in Australia."

You freeze for a moment before shoving up one side of your eye mask and peeking at him. "Australia."

He nods. "Yup. Heard of it? Odd place with huge spiders and opposite seasons. Quite cold there right now." He pushes himself off the frame and walks to the foot of your massive California king-sized bed, where he sheds his coat and carelessly throws it on the bench.

You'll give it to him. You've been living like a queen while here. You hate to admit that if he had simply asked nicely, you probably would love to live here with him despite knowing nothing about him—you're not known for your logical or sound thinking. You simply survive the day, and surviving here would be nice. But the sheer audacity of forcing you to be here without your consent drives you to unprecedented levels of stubbornness. Levels of stubbornness that convince you it would be much better living in your tiny, sad apartment in your seedy neighborhood than here, in this mansion, with products that have your skin glowing like it never has before.

When you don't respond to his rhetorical question, he asks something more serious. "Are you ready to have a proper conversation now?"

You blow a raspberry and laugh, making a show of pulling your mask back down and snuggling deeper into your 1,000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.

"Perfect, I am too," he says sarcastically, the duvet ripped off you violently within the same breath. You shriek at the sudden cold. The psycho keeps his house freezing at all times, which means when you're not looking for the emergency exit, you're either always buried under several blankets or in the sauna down the hall. You hear the snap of his fingers and your eye mask disappears.

You gasp. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything here is mine," he reminds you. "Or have you gotten so comfortable, you've forgotten you've been kidnapped?" He snorts at the word like it's a ridiculous thought even though that's literally what he did. He seats himself on the edge of your bed, crossing his legs and holding his hand out. As soon as he does, your bag of ghost pepper chips materialize in it.

"Hey!" you lean over to grab them, unperturbed by the way things just appear and disappear at his whim. He quickly holds them out of your reach, his expression bored as your face stops just shy of his. You glare at him. "Those are mine."

Though his expression doesn't change, his dark eyes suddenly flash a bright, angry red, and you struggle to refrain from flinching.

"Hm," he hums, smirking as you slowly lean away and he brings the bag back down to his lap. He smugly throws a chip into his mouth, crunching slowly before swallowing. Your eyes come down to the insane Adam's apple of his bobbing at the motion. You purse your lips and look back up. "It doesn't surprise me that those heinous parents of yours never taught you how to share."

The words pull all the fight and anger out of you immediately. Your shoulders deflate and you look at him with wide eyes. "My… what? You knew my parents?"

The man nods once. "Unfortunately. Really vile duo, weren't they?"

It's an understatement. Your parents should've never had a child to begin with, but your mother thought doing so would keep your father interested—a fact she never failed to remind you of. She never wanted you, never wanted to be a mother, never wanted someone to raise. All she ever wanted was to keep your father's attention, and you did, for a few years at least. Then, you turned four, and his fascination with being a parent waned, and the two of them deemed you old enough to fend for yourself while they carried on with their lives like they never even had you. You were left at home for hours at a time, teaching yourself to make cheese sandwiches with the microwave, and self-soothing with the TV when it would get dark and you were scared to be alone.

When they were home, you were a pseudo-maid, cleaning up after your mother and bringing your father beer after beer as he demanded them. You knew the brands and how to use a bottle opener before you even knew how to read. Sometimes, you caught yourself enjoying the time they were away more than when they were back, but then the sun would set, and you wouldn't be scared anymore or crying yourself to sleep, and you'd decide it was better than having to be alone.

It wasn't until they hadn't returned for almost a week, leaving you near-starved and dehydrated, that you finally went to the neighbor for help. You were in the foster system the next day, and you never saw your parents ever again. You've been without them far longer than you were ever with them, and still, their fingerprints are all over your life: your stunted education, your desperate need to be around your friends, your avoidance of an empty apartment, apparently this guy. Really, his house of horrors was a reminder of how much you despised being left to your own devices. Maybe that's why you were constantly on the phone even if it meant you couldn't ask for help.

"Um… how?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"They called to me one night," the stranger confides in you between bites of your own chips. Even as he talks with a full mouth, he manages to look just as regal. "Begged for a better life—all the money they could dream of in a land far from where they were, away from everything and everyone they've ever known."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's talking about you.

"They didn't have anything to offer in exchange," he tells you, not bothering to explain why they would be asking him for anything at all. "They wanted to sell their souls, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with something so… ugly…?"

The word comes out of his mouth with a sneer, and you nod like you understand. You kind of do. Everything about the man is very pretty, down to his nail beds and his shined shoes. What would he need from two deadbeats like your parents?

Wait. Their souls?

"So they offered me something more pure," he says, the bag of chips disappearing once more. He plunges his thumb into his mouth to suck the ghost pepper dust off, and you find yourself a little entranced as it pops back out and he does the same with his index finger. You sigh as you turn toward your nightstand and pluck a tissue from the box and hand it to him. He frowns. "Uh, thanks."

"And what was that?" you ask as he wipes his saliva off on the tissue instead of whatever furniture is available to him (in this case, your 1,000-thread-count sheets).

"Their daughter."

You were expecting it. You hadn't been sure what to make of all this; half of you was convinced you were still blackout drunk, passed out somewhere in a bathroom stall while Jasmine puked her guts out. Maybe you were having a very elaborate dream. Or nightmare. But hearing him speak now, you believe it. You wouldn't put those two idiots above summoning some kind of demon to get them out of their gambling debts and make them rich—allow them a life among the elite. And you wouldn't put it past them to trade you for it.

You were expecting it. But still, it feels like another knife through your heart when he confirms it.

"I'm not a fucking monster, though," he says, snorting. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"But… I'm here…"

He nods. "I told them they can't just sell their child to the Devil. So—"

"The Devil?!"

"—I settled on servitude. I would just enslave them at the end of their contract for the rest of eternity."

You balk at him—the Devil. The Devil likes black oxfords and ghost pepper chips.

"But then…" he sighs, inconvenienced. "They died."

"They're dead," you repeat, the words coming out more like a statement than the question you meant for them to be. You find that you don't feel anything about that. You never even got a chance to love your parents. It doesn't feel like you've lost anything. You were always alone; still, the confirmation that you truly are now is odd.

"Mhm," he confirms, the tissue disappearing into thin air as he leans back on his hands. "Can you believe I made those two rich beyond their wildest dreams and they somehow still got into trouble with loan sharks?" His head lolls to the side to look at you. "Unlike you, they were actually kidnapped." He shrugs before adding an important detail. "And murdered."

"Oh," you breathe.

"Yes. Oh. But I still needed to collect payment. And unfortunately…"

He lets you connect the dots on your own. "I'm their only next of kin."

"Precisely," he nods once. "You've inherited their debt."

"So… you're… enslaving me?"

He looks at you with disgust. "What? No. I said I'm not a fucking monster."

"But you kidnapped me."

"I did not."

"You did."

"Let's not get into the semantics of it all," he says, waving a hand dismissively as his eyebrow twitches with irritation. "I am not enslaving you. I am here to offer you a contract."

"A contract."

"A contract." A piece of paper—sheer and made up of glittery red particles—materializes between the two of you, hundreds of lines of red print appearing one by one before you as he speaks. "You may serve your parents' sentence—"

"Enslavement."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Yes, enslavement—though I am giving you a choice!"

"Wow, what a gentleman."

"Or," he raises his voice slightly to get you back on track, "you can make your own contract." He nods at the piece of paper. You frown.

"But I didn't ask you for anything."

"Yes, but it will release you from your parents' debt."

"By putting me into my own pile of shit?"

He smirks. "Oh c'mon. I think I deserve more credit than that. Have I not been an incredibly generous host to you thus far?" He spreads one, long arm out to gesture to your bedroom—more like a large apartment in the corner of his mansion.

"A generous host during my stay in your prison?" you ask, snorting. "Sure." His face falls into a flat expression that you ignore as you lean forward to read the beginnings of your contract.

INFERNAL SUCCESSION OF DEBT

Contract ID 666-4 This Agreement is entered into between:

THE DEVIL, King of the Infernal Realms, Lord of Temptation, Prince of Darkness, Keeper of Eternal Contracts, Hereinafter referred to as "Employer," "His Infernal Majesty," or "Boss";

and

Y/N L/N, Sole Living Descendant and Responsible Party, Hereinafter referred to as "Employee".

PREAMBLE

WHEREAS, Employee's parents entered into a legally binding contract with Employer in exchange for wealth, prosperity, favorable stock performance, and several luxury vehicles;

WHEREAS, said parents were obligated to surrender themselves for eternal servitude upon collection;

WHEREAS, said parents have inconveniently perished before collection could be completed;

WHEREAS, Hell's Collections Department has determined Employee to be the sole inheritor of all outstanding debts, obligations, curses, liens, penalties, and miscellaneous infernal paperwork;

THEREFORE, Employer has graciously offered Employee the following alternatives:

OPTION A: In fulfillment of the obligations incurred by Employee's deceased parents, Employee shall enter the service of the Infernal Realm for all eternity.

Duties shall include, but are not limited to:

Processing approximately 4.8 million forms per day

Responding to customer complaints from damned souls

Sharpening ceremonial pitchforks

Serving as a chew toy for baby hellhounds during training exercises

Untangling chains in the Pit of Eternal Knots

Operating the Soul Intake Window during holiday rushes

Rewriting contracts damaged by hellfire

Cleaning the Room of Despair every third Tuesday

Escorting lost souls to the appropriate department

Conducting annual inventories of screams

Working closely with Minghao from Accounting

Employee acknowledges that eternity is a super long time and that the above list is not-at-all exhaustive.

OPTION B: Accept employment under Employer for the duration of Employee's natural mortal lifespan, after which Employee shall receive a permanent position with benefits.

You look back up at the Devil. He watches you with an unreadable expression.

"What's the catch?"

"You'd have to read all 666 pages of your contract to find it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "You don't think I'll do it." He neither confirms or denies. "I will. I will read all 666 pages."

"Fine by me," he says, shrugging one shoulder and standing. "But after you read them and decide on either option A or B, you'll have another contract to sign for terms of your servitude or your employment. I'm sure you can guess how many pages each are."

You feel the ambition leave your soul. You roll your eyes and shake your head. "Sit your ass down."

He smirks and follows directions.

"I assume they went to Hell, no?" He nods. "Why can't you just go find their souls and make them serve their sentence?"

"Debt must be collected before death and the souls are admitted into Hell and sorted into the proper circles of punishment, where they'll be doing something very different for all of eternity." He shakes his head regretfully. "Your parents are currently being fried in vats of oil over and over again. If they had survived until debt collection, they would've remained human for eternity, serving me even as their increasingly brittle bones repeatedly broke under the weight of their chores."

He smiles wistfully at what could have been, and you wince. "Um. Okay... well, what would my duties be for option B?"

The Devil nods to the space next to the contract, where an employment agreement appears, lines appearing one after the other just like the original contract. You groan.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Why is Hell a corporation?"

His eyebrows rise. "What else would Hell be?"

You pause, ruminating on the thought. "Okay, good point."

You sigh and skim the employment agreement.

POSITION

Employee shall serve as: Executive Assistant to His Infernal Majesty

Responsibilities include, but are not limited to:

Maintaining Employer's schedule

Screening calls

Organizing contracts

Overseeing scheduled plagues, wars, famines, etc.

Managing infernal correspondence

Other duties as assigned

Employee shall reside in Employer's primary estate for the duration of employment. Position will require 30% travel.

COMPENSATION

During mortal employment, Employee shall receive:

Free housing

Free meals

Free skincare

Access to infernal healthcare

Unlimited coffee

Following Employee's natural death, Employee shall receive:

Permanent demon status

Comfortable accommodations

Full retirement benefits

Choice of station

WORKPLACE CONDUCT

Employer shall not:

Steal Employee's soul

Curse Employee without written notice

Sell Employee to rival supernatural entities (or anyone else)

Employee shall not:

Summon competitors

Sign contracts on Employer's behalf

Open portals without supervision

Feed eldritch horrors after midnight

TERMINATION

This Agreement may only be terminated by:

Employee's natural death

The collapse of reality

Mutual agreement

A successful legal challenge upheld by three (3) cosmic authorities and at least one (1) archangel

INHERITED DEBT RESOLUTION

Upon execution of this Agreement:

Employee shall be considered to have satisfied all obligations inherited from their parents

Employer shall permanently cease collection efforts

Employee's parents shall remain classified as "Paid In Full"

The rest of your mortal life is a long time. You know very well that by agreeing to this, you're literally signing a deal with the Devil. It's sad and pathetic to acknowledge, but if this new life is anything like the last three days have been, it's already a huge upgrade from how you were living prior to your home invasion.

You lean away from the contracts and take a deep breath before nodding once. You can make it an even bigger upgrade.

"I want an unlimited budget for interior decorating of my living quarters," you start. His eyebrows rise to meet his hairline.

"You're negotiating with the Devil?" he asks, clarifying that he understands your intentions.

"Sure am," you confirm before shooting off your demands one after the other. "I want my apartment kept and paid for as a place to unwind when needed, and I want unlimited visiting rights to Earth. I want all my bills paid for and the newest Samsung any time I want to upgrade my phone. I want backstage passes to any K-Pop group of my choice at any concert I want. I want an expense account and a black credit card to match."

"We—"

"And I don't care if you don't use credit cards in Hell. I want a black credit card. And I want it to be metal and heavy. The fancy one."

He clamps his mouth back shut and nods for you to keep going.

"I want full autonomy over my soul while mortal and after death," you emphasize. "My employment does not mean you own me."

"How many times do you want me to remind you I am not a monster?"

"You're the literal Devil."

"Yes, exactly!" he agrees. "Not a monster!"

You scoff, unsure of how to even respond to that. "You don't own me!" you repeat.

"Yes! Of course! I do not own you! Obviously!" he says, appeasing you. "Go on."

"I also want protection from… whoever your enemies are."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "My enemies?"

You shrug. "Like… God or whatever."

He grins—a genuinely amused one. It's heart-shaped and wide and it's not befitting for the Devil. He looks like someone you could cuddle, not someone who could eat your soul for dinner after finishing your ghost pepper chips. "You, humans, have a very ill-conceived idea of Heaven and Hell. God is not my enemy. She is my colleague."

The smile that envelopes your face is uncontrollable. "She?! God is a woman?! I fucking knew it!"

"Of course she is," the Devil scoffs. "Why would a man be kept in charge of Heaven? That's absurd."

"Hm. Agreed," you say, a little suspicious of having something you both agree upon. "Okay, so no enemies…"

"None," he says, yawning. "Unless you consider damned souls enemies."

"Well, I want protection from anything that can hurt me."

He looks at you like you're dumb. "You'll be living with the Devil. You will be at my side at almost all times of the day. I am the protection."

"What if you hurt me?" you point out.

He rolls his eyes. "It would be counterproductive to hurt my own employee. If you haven't yet wandered into my contracts room, go find it later and you'll see how badly I need an assistant."

You try not to choke on your own spit as you think about the weird room stuffed full of paper. Does he expect you to do something with that…?

"Anything else?" he asks. "You've been so frugal with your demands. Are you sure you don't want to be a billionaire? The ruler of the free world?"

You ignore his sarcasm and shrug. "Is that possible?" He glares at you. "Okay, then no. I don't want those things. But I do have one more demand."

"Oh, goodie," he sighs. "What?"

"On the point of employment until death…"

The Devil laughs, the sound mocking. "That one is not negotiable, darling. It's either eternal servitude or employment until your mortal death—which is what you would be doing anyway if it weren't for your scumbag parents. One is definitely better than the other."

You glare at him. "I'm not going to play Devil's maid until I'm 100 and you're laughing at me as my bones are turning to dust."

"Per your employee agreement, you will have access to infernal healthcare, a perk that would not have been offered to your parents," he points out. "It might surprise you to know it's much more generous than whatever the hell you humans are offering these days. I assure you, your bones will never turn to dust."

"I want to remain as I am," you inform him, not taking no for an answer. "I will work for you until death, but I will remain as I am. No growing pains, no aches, completely healthy in the body and mind I'm in now until I die."

He fixes you with a hard stare for several moments, but you're determined to get your way. You don't avert your gaze and you don't give in. He sighs deeply through his nose. "Fine. Accepted."

The employment agreement changes before your very eyes, reflecting your negotiations, and you're pleased to see every point you argued written onto the paper in glittery red.

"Oh! And I refuse to call you Your Infernal Majesty."

He shrugs. "Okay."

"Okay…"

"What?"

"What do I call you?"

"Oh. Jun. You can call me Jun."

"Okay. I guess you have yourself an assistant, Jun."

He smirks, raising an open hand to you. You take a breath before you slip your hand into his, his slender fingers closing around you and shaking. On the final shake, he squeezes and you feel a just barely tolerable heat bind the two of you together for several seconds. Bursts of bright red lines glow around your joined hands, frantically circling them before they escape to the pieces of paper between you. Jun releases you just as you realize the lines have become both of your signatures on the contracts.

"It's done," he says, eyes flashing red again. "You, Y/N, have just signed a deal with the Devil."

And because you're not one to let a man intimidate you—Devil or not—you smile right back, lean in, and remind him in a theatrical whisper, "You're as stuck in here with me as I am with you."

When the arrogance painted all over his face falters the tiniest bit, you wink and throw yourself off your bed, finally ready to start your day at a bright and early 2 p.m.

"Don't you go regretting this now, Junnie!"

DAY TEN

Hell is exactly what you expected it to be after seeing Jun's contracts: a corporate abyss. It's an open floor plan with unassigned desks, harsh overhead lighting, and a water cooler where a demon is stationed, their only task to make awkward small talk with the parched, tortured soul that comes up to it hoping for a cup. The demons, of course, have the time of their lives, scheduling meetings that could have been emails, demanding overtime of salaried souls, asking for things that were already given to them several days ago and promptly lost upon receipt.

You don't fully understand it. Before you were taken away from Earth, you were working as a full-time bartender. In fact, the only reason you and your friends hadn't gotten kicked out that night for being belligerently drunk was because you were being belligerently drunk at the club you worked at. Before that, your only foray into corporate life was as a customer service representative answering phones and talking to angry people who had nothing but free time to scream at you. You lasted exactly one week, and that's all you need to at least appreciate why it's the model for Hell.

And for the last few days, you've been following Jun around it, soaking in all the information you need. For example, Jun is in "the office" during most "daylight" hours (Hell doesn't have windows so how are you supposed to know when daylight is?), and usually brings his work back to the home you now share. Unclear if he sleeps at all.

He doesn't spend time around the damned souls—not that they even realize who he is as he walks by. He pays them no mind, letting his demon subordinates take care of tormenting them. Instead, his time in the office is spent attending meetings with high-ranking demons, archangels, and occasionally, God herself. If he's not in the office or at home, he'll be traveling. Unclear what he'll do on his trips, but you assume it's something akin to what he did for your parents. He assures you each trip will only be a few hours and that he'll call if that changes. You assure him you don't care.

Today is the first time you won't be shadowing him. Jun unceremoniously dropped you off at the mail room without so much as a goodbye, muttering something about picking you up at the end of the day. You didn't have time to point out that you have no idea when that is. And hours later, it seems that it still isn't the end of the day.

"So… who are you…?"

You look up from the mountain of envelopes you've been tasked with going through. Apparently, the Devil receives a lot of mail, and apparently, Jun is above simply throwing all of them into an incinerator. It turns out when people can't get a hold of God, they turn to the next best thing. And the next best thing insists that you read every last letter and decide whether it's worth responding to.

The demon talking to you entered the room just a minute or so ago. He's a man who looks to be about your age, though you're under no delusions that he actually is. For all you know, he's millions of years old. His spiky blonde hair is currently pointed to your right as he tilts his head at you curiously. "Actually, what are you…?"

You squint at him. "I'm human…" you gesture down at your lack of black leather, dressed like the pink Care Bear threw up on you as a quiet form of protest against the dreadfully drab aesthetic Hell insists on. "Obviously."

He nods. "Right… but… you're not dead."

"No," you say, using more force than needed to slice through the next envelope with the letter opener you were given—a knife with a handle shaped like a devil's tail. A tail you noticed Jun does not have.

The demon winces and you're glad for it. Just because Jun is convinced you're safe doesn't mean you are; the more of them who believe you'll shank them with a letter opener for breathing funny, the better.

"I am not dead."

"What's your—"

"I'm working," you cut him off icily, making a show of stabbing the letter opener into the wooden table and straightening the paper in front of your face. The man next to him snorts but says nothing, simply grabbing the mail he came in for and leaving.

"So you work in the mail room? Do we hire humans to do that now?"

You roll your eyes behind the piece of paper. You don't answer.

"Do you know whose mail you're going through…? Because it's His—"

"Jun's," you sigh, slamming the piece of paper down and shoving it toward your throw pile. "I am reading Jun's mail." You fold your hands in front of you on the table and lean forward to give him all the attention he obviously wants. The demon's eyes widen, leaning back the tiniest bit.

"Y-you can't just… say his name like that," he whispers to you, eyes sliding back and forth. The mail room is full of demons, and it isn't until he looks around that you realize all of them have frozen in place. You frown as you follow his gaze.

"Jun?" you repeat loudly, resisting the urge to smirk when more of them gasp.

"Stop!"

"Why?" you ask, snickering as you reach for the next envelope and rip it open without the help of the letter opener. Dear Satan, you read. "Is it like Voldemort here? Scared to say your own boss's name?"

"Pfft, no one here is scared to say 'Voldemort,'" he says, rolling his own eyes. "Rowling will be here as soon as God decides it's time for her to retire from Twitter. And life."

You hum in approval. "Good to hear."

"It's just wise to be a little more respectful when referring to His Infernal Majesty."

You smile. "Yeah, I'm not calling him that."

"Your funeral."

"Or yours," you say, pointedly looking at the letter opener stabbed into the surface right now. You look back at him and his eyes are on the tool too. "Think Jun would be happy about you distracting his personal assistant from very important work?"

The demon balks at you, but you return your attention to the letter. Dear Satan. "You're his assistant?" You hum in confirmation. "Oh wow. That's… wow. Um, I'm Soonyoung."

"I didn't ask."

"Are you sure you aren't a demon?"

You look up at him without putting your letter down. "I'm sure, Soonyoung." Your eyes flick back down to the letter. Dear Satan, you read for the third time.

"Well, you would make a really good one," he tells you. Your fingers crinkle the letter, twitching in as they try to keep from completely crumpling it in frustration. "Is that why His Infernal Majesty hired you? How did you two meet?"

"Soonyoung." It seems like the entire room freezes and the demon's eyes widen at something behind you. You look over your shoulder to find Jun standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and his brows pulled down. The other demons not named Soonyoung immediately flee the room. "Are you bothering Y/N?"

You huff. "Sure. You can give him my name."

Your boss smirks but ignores you. "Leave her alone. If I hear my name one more time, I'll make you work a shift in Accounting." You raise your eyebrows. No wonder they're so afraid to say his name. It literally summons him.

Soonyoung pushes himself off where he'd been leaning on the table across from you, immediately leaving the room and bowing to your boss and muttering apologies as he goes. You snort, turning back around and reading your letter in full for the first time.

Dear Satan,

If you're real, prove it.

You nod, taking a piece of paper out to write your response. Just as you finish, you hear Jun's voice—much closer this time—and you startle.

"Interesting."

"Holy shit," you breathe, leaning back to look at him reading over your shoulder. "I thought you left."

He reaches past you, allowing you to get a whiff of his cologne. Something that smells woodsy and spicy. He takes your pile of letters and responses and reads them aloud.

"'Dear Satan, if you're real, prove it,'" he reads. His eyes go to the piece of paper with your response. "'No.'"

He stares at you but reveals no indication of whether or not he approves. He puts the two pieces of paper down on the table next to you and moves on.

"'Dear Devil, did the dinosaurs go to Heaven or Hell?' 'They went to Heaven. What kind of fucking question is this?'" Papers down.

You think the twitch of his lips is a smile threatening to break through. He succeeds in hiding it if it is, and he just keeps going.

Dear Satan, should I text my ex?

I am the #1 advocate of free will. But know that if you do, I will haunt you for the rest of your mortal life and you will never find love. Ever.

Dear Satan, if you help me pass my AP Chem test, I will owe you my life. P.S. For my records, does this count as a legally binding contract?

No, it does not. Go study and never write here ever again.

Dear Satan, does my cat work for you? I love her, but sometimes, she does things that make me wonder. I don't think she sleeps. She just watches me. All the time. I also feel like she can maybe talk and is hiding it. Is she secretly a demon?

Jun pauses, eyes sliding to you, though you're unsure why. You hold his stare, but he just redirects his attention back to your response.

Probably. What's her name?

He seems to decide that's enough, calmly putting the pile of papers down with the others. "Hm." You don't know what it means and he doesn't clarify. Instead, he asks, "Hungry?"

You gasp, your work immediately forgotten. "Yes! Does Hell have sushi?"

"No. We only have the blood and organs of sinners here." You crinkle your nose but he doesn't say that he's joking, and it makes your stomach turn. "But Earth does. And I believe you negotiated unlimited visitation rights." You nod. You did. You absolutely did. "Come on. My treat for a good first day spent on your own."

"It's your treat no matter what," you mutter, standing up and leading the way out of the mail room, trusting your responses will be sent out by someone who isn't busy stuffing their face with sushi. "I literally have free food written into my employment agreement."

"You can never just let me have the last word, can you?"

"Nope. Get used to it."

DAY SIXTEEN

Your adrenaline spikes when the phone on your desk, right outside Jun's corner office (the only place with windows and a killer view of racists burning alive at all hours of the day), rings. You squeak with excitement as you answer it.

This should be nerve-wracking for you; your one week in customer service scarred you enough that the sheer sound of phones ringing sent anxiety crawling up your spine. But here, answering the phone meant all kinds of fun possibilities.

It could be a teenager calling via Ouija Board. It could be someone summoning Jun to sell their soul. It could be a demon needing help as a priest exorcises them from a possession. It could be God.

"You've reached Jun's desk. How may I help you?"

"Wrong." Your joy flatlines at your boss's voice. "I told you, you can't use my name when answering the phone."

"I'm not calling you whatever silly title everyone else here insists on calling you," you grumble.

"That's fine. I don't give a shit. Just don't use my name," he says. "I already hear everyone on Earth muttering about Satan. We don't need to add my Hell-given name to the mix."

You sigh. "Fine. What do you need? I've already taken care of your mail and schedule for the rest of the week, I have your requested reports from Accounting, and the Hellhounds have been caught. They're eating their midday snacks now."

"What snacks? You know that cannibals upset their stomachs. If they throw up, you will be cleaning it up."

"First of all, no. I won't." You've already seen the messes the Hellhounds are capable of, and you'd rather Jun eat your soul than have to clean up after one. "Second of all, I know. I gave them some family annihilators."

"Perfect. Thanks. Tell Soonyoung if he loses them one more time, he'll be fed to them next."

"Got it," you say, taking mental note to threaten the demon next time he comes around to annoy you. "So why are you calling? Did you forget whose debt you're collecting today? It's—"

"I know," he cuts you off. "Just checking to see how it's going since this is your first full day without me in Hell."

You frown at nothing in particular. "The Devil does check-in calls…? Oddly considerate."

You can practically hear Jun's glare through the phone. "No. The Devil is making sure you haven't completely run his empire into the ground."

"I am but a measly human," you sigh dramatically. "If I have the power to run a supernatural empire that predates time itself into the ground, it's probably a really bad empire."

"Hm." He clearly refuses to tell you that you have a good point. "I also called to let you know I'll be late tonight so you don't have to worry about working after you leave the office. I'll see you at breakfast."

You told him you didn't care if his trips made him late or if he even wanted to go out and do his own thing after; you aren't his mother or his wife, and you can probably discern this information from his calendar without him calling. But now that it's actually happening, you realize you care a tiny bit. Mostly because in the last two weeks, the two of you have gotten into a routine of sorts.

You woke up, usually from your duvet being ripped off and your eye mask being sent into whatever other dimension Jun sent things to, and you'd sit down for breakfast, going through everything your boss was doing for the day. Jun didn't need to eat, but he joined you anyway, occasionally having a bowl of cereal since you made it clear you never want to see him eating the blood and organs of sinners in the house. Then, he'd take the both of you to work, where you would do whatever it is the day demanded of you, before heading home and having dinner. If he had a trip that day, he still made it home in time to sit with you, eating whatever it is you made in the generously stocked kitchen.

You'd kind of forgotten to be afraid of being alone because you never were anymore. Jun was always there, and if he wasn't, you were either busy working or asleep. The thought of coming back to the house without him, having to eat dinner by yourself, and not having anyone to talk to gets your heart racing faster than usual.

"Hello?"

"Okay," you say, nodding even though he can't see you. Maybe if you force your body to agree to it, your mind will follow suit. "Have fun collecting those souls."

"Thanks," he says slowly.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Okay then. Bye."

You don't wait for him to respond, hanging up and immediately standing to make your way back to the house while the clock tells you it's still daytime. Maybe if you fall asleep earlier than usual, you'll bypass the terror you already feel creeping in.

DAY TWENTY-THREE

"Junnie!" you call without turning over your shoulder.

You have to keep working on securing catering for the 1,700 demons who will be gathering for an "Innovation & Disruption: Bringing Medieval-Style Torture to the Modern Age" seminar in a few days. You don't even know how to get blood and organs catered. And never mind having to arrange accommodations for the demons that insist on bringing their eldritch horrors with them.

You hear your boss's usual grunt of acknowledgment. "Time to get going to that cult summoning if you want to make it on time!" You glance at the CCTV feed in the corner of your screen. "They're almost done drawing the pentagram!"

He groans but you hear the unmistakable sound of his chair rolling away from his desk and creaking as he stands anyway. A few moments later, he's standing next to you. You pause your catering research to look up at him.

"I don't assume the demons would want to have Subway or something at this seminar?" you ask.

"No." Jun's mouth curves into a small smile. "No, they probably do not want Subway."

"Shame." You shrug and turn back to your computer. "Well, have fun with the nut jobs! Remember, Risk & Assessment flagged the cult leader for us; his possession score is very high, so if you find him insufferable—and I'm sure that with your patience, you will—feel free to ring me and I'll send you a demon to torment him a bit."

"Noted," he says, chuckling a little. "And just so you know, I'll probably be late again."

You deflate a little. It's been a week since the last time Jun came home late from work, and you're still working out the stress knots it put into your shoulders.

"Oh." You try to think of what you'll do to stave off the panic this time since sleeping early didn't do it for you. When you realize your boss is standing there, scrutinizing you and waiting for a proper response, you say a pathetic "sounds good."

"Hm. I was actually thinking you may be more help coming with me tonight than staying here," he says suddenly. "Or at home."

You straighten up and try not to look too eager at the invitation. "Wait. I can come to the summoning?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Is that allowed?"

He stares at you blankly. "I'm the King of Hell."

You roll your eyes, your heart rate slowing down as your anxieties subside. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed."

The second you and Jun make landfall in the middle of the cult's pentagram, there are fanatic screams and people in ridiculous cloaks falling to their knees and sobbing. You don't try to hide the revulsion on your face, flinching away when a follower crawls to you on their hands and knees, wailing and reaching for you. You inadvertently curl into your boss's side. You mutter a quiet apology when you realize you're touching him, but he ignores it, stepping between you and the enthusiastic follower.

"Hands to yourself," Jun hisses at the person, who immediately backs away.

The space becomes significantly warmer at that, and it only dawns on you now why your home is kept so cold. It never occurred to you that of course the Devil will run hot, and you feel that heat radiating from him now with nothing to quell it. The cult members must feel it too because aside from the overenthusiastic one, they give the two of you a wide berth.

Once you acclimate to the audience, you notice you're suddenly in a cloak reminiscent of the grim reaper's.

"What the hell is this?" you ask, lifting an arm and looking at the way the cloth drapes off of it.

"Summoning uniform."

"Then why don't you have one?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at Jun's all-black get-up: a crisp button-down, slim-fit slacks, and a jacket with shoulders adorned with a smattering of crystals, making it look like he's wearing the sky itself.

"I'm the Devil." Which seems to be his answer for everything. Your next complaint is drowned out by the deep and bizarre bellowing of a man on a tiny stage that quakes under his weight.

"Welcome, Our Unholiness!" You assume the man shouting is the cult leader. He wears a goat head that looks so realistic, you sorely hope it's just a mask and that the man is not wearing an animal corpse right now.

"Wrong!" you immediately call, making Jun frown at you as you step back around him, tripping a little when your foot catches on your cloak. "Fuck, ow." You yank at it violently before standing straight and addressing the man. "Accepted titles include King of Hell, King of the Infernal Realms, Lord of Temptation, Prince of Darkness, His Infernal Majesty, or The Big Bad Lord of Doom and Gloom."

"No, nope. Not that last one." You smile at him when he narrows his eyes at you. If you get the cloak, he gets the silly title.

"O-oh. Uh. Everyone, let's welcome… His Maj—"

"Infernal Majesty."

"His Infernal Majesty!" he shouts.

The crowd around you erupts into cheers, and you take the moment to look around. Your boss has been summoned to what looks like a remote compound in the middle of the desert with small concrete buildings scattered around you. The people around you look starved, dehydrated, and unclean. No wonder the Devil has been summoned; this is not a cult leader that leads very well.

"Enough," Jun says, his voice barely rising over the cheers but reverberating through the crowd anyway. It falls silent laughably fast, forcing you to stifle a giggle. "Why have you summoned me?"

"Satan, we—may I call you Satan…?" the goat head tilts toward you like he's asking you for permission. You nod and he turns back to your boss. "Satan, we have summoned you here today in the hopes that you will lend your devoted children a hand."

"I am nothing if not a provider," Jun says in a bored voice. You tilt your head and shrug before nodding as you ponder that statement. You suppose it's true. You have been living a very luxurious life since you moved to Hell.

"Oh, thank you, Satan," he sighs in relief, bowing his head and stumbling a little when the weight of the goat head makes him wobble. "We request a great boon of you."

"A boon," you echo in a whisper, mostly to yourself.

"Our tithes are declining."

"Tithes." Words you will have to Google upon returning home.

Jun's eyes flick down to you briefly before he responds. "Get on with it."

The abruptness throws the leader off, causing him to stutter. You buy him more time by stating, "As you can imagine, Ju—Satan! Satan is incredibly busy. Many summonings to tend to. Many plagues to schedule. Many damned souls to devour whole. Many—"

"He gets it," Jun cuts in.

"Right, of course!" the leader agrees. "Apologies! We would like to request monetary support."

"In exchange for?" the Devil asks, an eyebrow cocked at the man.

"For…?"

Jun glances at you and you nod, frowning when you realize for the first time that you are no longer holding your tablet. You gasp, patting your entire body before you find the needlessly deep inner pocket of your cloak. So deep, your tablet basically rests at your ankle.

"This is deeply humiliating," you mutter at your boss as you bend over to scoop it out. "Who was this made for—Shaquille O'Neal?"

"No," Jun answers, more amused than you've ever heard him. "It's mine."

You pause in your bend, cranking your neck to look at him upside down. "This is your grim reaper cloak?"

He nods, clearly suppressing a laugh. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you continue digging your device out of the infinite pocket. You straighten back up when it's finally in your grip.

You quickly tap through for the handbook you haven't needed until now.

"Where deals with the Devil are concerned," you read aloud, projecting your voice so everyone can hear clearly, "the Devil accepts servitude of his chosen length, negotiable; a percentage of all future profits no less than 20 percent, negotiable; your luck for an amount of time of his choice, negotiable; the feeling you get when a song gives you chills, non-negotiable; your first-born child to be collected upon their 30th birthday, non—hey!"

You frown at that point and turn to your boss, your back to the cult leader. "What?"

"What the hell do you need a first-born child for?" you hiss in a whisper only he can hear because above all else, you are still very professional. "Your assistant position is already filled. You already have a first-born child that you have collected!"

Your boss's mouth curves into an arrogant smirk that you want to rip off his mouth. "First-born children are a hot commodity in Hell."

"Oh, are they?" you laugh humorlessly. "So where are they?"

"Where are they?"

"Yeah! Where are they?" you ask, unsure what you'll even do when you find out. Now that you've been in your position long enough to really appreciate its perks, the thought of being kicked to the curb fills you with a fight instinct so strong, you could choke on it. "Hiding them in the attic? Basement? In a closet I haven't found yet? Or did you build them a separate house? You have multiple offices? Multiple assistants?"

"Um, can we get back to the—"

"One minute!" you shout without turning back to the cult leader.

"Are you jealous?" Jun asks, his voice equal parts confusion and cocky. When your only answer to that is a glare, he exhales a breathy laugh and shakes his head. "The document you're reading from was last updated decades ago, darling. I assure you I have no other assistants and am not looking for any more—at least not until your contract with me is over."

"I want that added as an amendment to my agreement," you say through gritted teeth, noting to yourself to reach out to Demon Resources when you get back.

"Unnecessary, but we'll—"

"The Devil will not be accepting a first-born child!" you announce, three times as loud as you were before as you spin back around, kicking when your cloak tangles around your legs. "Keep your useless children to yourselves!"

"No children, got it," the cult leader nods. "Well… you see, we were not prepared for a proper offering tonight, as we assumed that as children of the Dark Lord—"

"Lord of Temptation or Prince of Darkness," you correct him, shaking your head.

"Er, yes. As children of the Prince of Darkness… we assumed we would just… um, receive? A gift? As loyal followers?"

Both you and Jun remain still, falling quiet at the assumption—you because you're unsure if your boss wants you to correct him, Jun because you assume he's debating whether he should kill someone or laugh. The leader laughs a little nervously, swaying back and forth and wringing his hands. It's a hilariously silly picture with his goat head still on.

"Correct this idiot before I summon a Hellhound," Jun mutters to you, turning away from the leader and taking a seat. A comically large throne appears under his ass at the perfect moment. He props his head in his hand in immense disinterest.

"You summoned the Devil," you point out the obvious. "If you were looking for handouts based on loyalty, you probably should have thrown your allegiance behind God—which by the way, did you know she's a woman?"

"Oh. Uh, that's… yeah, that makes sense."

"Right? We thought so too," you say, nodding and glancing at Jun briefly over your shoulder. He nods once, blinking slowly in the way he only does when he's finally starting to tire and needs to rest. You turn back to the leader. "If you would like Satan's financial support, he will need more than the promise that you'll continue to live in the desert, starving and unbathed. He will need something he can actually use." You point at his mask. "By the way, the goat head does nothing. He does not like that."

Jun speaks behind you, confirming. "I do not. I hate it."

The leader immediately rips the head off, chucking it away from him with so much force, it bounces several times and disappears into the darkness not lit by the torches that surround the pentagram. He's younger than you assumed he'd be, and he's sweaty and red from staying in the goat head.

"What will you be offering the Devil tonight?" you ask. "Would you like more examples of gifts he will accept?"

"Um, no, I think… I think we can offer, uh, servitude?" his followers groan, but he doesn't change his answer.

"Wonderful," you nod, making note of it in your tablet. One of Jun's famous contracts materializes in front of the sweaty man, the glow of it painting him even redder. "The Devil will award you with just enough money to keep this Burning Man-inspired cult thriving as long as at least one member present here tonight is alive. In exchange, His Infernal Majesty will collect their souls for eternal servitude at the end of their natural-born lives."

There's an uproar of protests as you finish reading the terms.

"Well, wait, hold on! You said this was negotiable."

"Indeed."

"Okay, so let's negotiate!" You watch him expectantly, waiting for said negotiation. "Right, um, yeah. So. Uh. If servitude is eternal… maybe our financial support should also be of unlimited nature?"

"'Maybe'?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"It should! It should!" he corrects himself. "Limitless money forever, regardless of whether or not the members here tonight are still alive, in exchange for our eternal servitude upon the end of life."

You watch as Jun's signature starts to scribble on the contract, signaling his acceptance of the agreement. You frown and shake your head. "Denied!"

Jun makes a sound of surprise as his signature stops mid-air.

"Limitless money forever, independent of tonight's members, in exchange for your current and future members' eternal servitude upon end of life—regardless of length of cult membership."

The silence that follows is tense, the cult leader chewing his lower lip as he thinks it through and his followers clearly ruminating on what limitless money can do for them.

"The Big Bad Lord is due for another engagement shortly," you inform him, earning you an annoyed grunt from your boss. "Please make your mind up quickly."

"Deal," he answers, nodding confidently. "Deal!"

You smile as you watch Jun sign on his dotted line. Your boss suddenly appears before the leader, outside the pentagram meant to keep you both contained and the summoners safe from you—obviously a myth. Once summoned, Jun is free to do as he pleases wherever he pleases. Everyone gasps at his reappearance, the leader flinching violently. Your boss extends his hand just as he did to you a month ago. When the man shakes it, the same red lines bind the agreement, and the cult leader's name and signature appear on the contract.

"Enjoy your boon, Lee Seokmin," Jun says, voice low and dangerous. "Don't go dying too soon. I'll be back to collect."

The Devil doesn't waste any more time on the cult, whisking the two of you away and back to your shared home.

"That was fun!" you exclaim, clapping your hands and giggling. "Much more fun than staying at home alone."

Jun snorts but keeps his face carefully blank as he goes to the pantry and grabs a bag of ghost pepper chips. "Yeah?"

"Definitely. Thanks for inviting me."

"I was right."

"Hm?"

"You were a lot more helpful going with me than staying back here," he clarifies, opening the bag and chomping on the snack, which he now keeps an unlimited stock of for both of you. "I should've known you'd be good at negotiating." He throws you a look of fake contempt. You smirk. "I think you should come with me to all my summonings."

You shrug, trying not to reveal how relieved you are about late nights alone not having to be a worry for you anymore. "Sure. I will make myself available."

"So generous…" Jun comments, mouth slanting in amusement. "I'm going to turn in. You good?"

You frown. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He watches you for a moment more before shaking his head. "No reason." He looks down at your cloak and nods. "Keep it for the next summoning. Night." He turns and lazily stalks off toward his suite on the other side of the house from yours.

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

You're getting the hang of Jun in a way you never really understood any of your previous bosses. Before, your managers were people who just told you what to do and gave you minuscule raises once in a while, but being the Devil's assistant demanded knowing him on a level more intimate than you were expecting.

Because why do you know that eating too much human food will have him in the bathroom for ungodly amounts of time? It turned out that your restriction of blood in the house was actually ruining his digestive track. You're not totally uncaring, though; you now allow the Devil his blood consumption—strictly from opaque bottles. Organs, on the other hand, will never be negotiable.

You know that his favorite thing to listen to to relax after a long, stressful day is the tortured screams of damned souls drowning in the river of boiling blood. He likes falling asleep to the screams of damned souls being quartered. If he needs to hunker down and really concentrate on work, the screams of the racists burning alive right outside his window are his preferred background noise, which is probably why his office is where it is.

Jun actually hates having to negotiate. It took that first trip and a handful more to realize that he's fairly quick to accept the first offer he's given unless it's a particularly nasty human being. Since you've started accompanying him, though, you've been getting him a lot more promised benefits than before. So far, you're most proud of convincing a human to sign over her whimsy once 10 years passes. You think it will really brighten up the place once Hell receives it.

There are a lot of devilish stereotypes you've also debunked during your time with him. He has no horns or tail or wings that he's hiding. Everything you see seems to be all of it. His skin has never been red or any other color aside from the golden tan it is now. The Devil does not have an advocate, as he finds people who relentlessly challenge ideas simply for the sake of it exhausting (though, as the ruler of Hell, he does have the privilege of everyone being too scared to challenge anything he thinks or says anyway). He doesn't rely on the worship of anybody on Earth, and he doesn't care to lure pure souls to Hell; he only makes deals with the people he knows belong with him. That inspired an hours-long conversation in which you demanded he assure you your deal was the exception and you do not belong here in Hell with him.

Why? Don't you feel like you belong here? he asked, smirking. You fit right in, darling.

That might be true, but I don't belong here, right? Like, I'm not an evil person. I would've gone to Heaven if not for my terrible parents. Right?

Will you leave me alone if I agree?

JUN.

One thing you're learning now is that your boss tends to be perceived very differently by his demon subordinates. Where you see a particular and sometimes bratty individual, others see a man they need to appease lest they get their heads cut off. Where you see a softie who cuddles with his pets upon returning home, others see a king with an army of Hellhounds starving for the chance to tear them to pieces. Where you see someone who has become your own personal barista in the mornings, others see someone they're too afraid to ask even the smallest of favors from.

Exhibit A: Soonyoung.

Who is currently hissing at you to come meet him around the corner, away from your desk and away from your boss's door. You look over your shoulder quickly to find Jun deep in reviewing the piles of contracts you left for him this morning. You roll your eyes as you stand, dragging your feet lazily as you shuffle over to where Soonyoung is practically crouching to keep from being seen.

"What is it, Soonyoung?" you sigh. He waves for you to bend down and you ignore him, not bothering to crouch to match his height. "You have one minute. The purgatory's auditorium was double booked for the new hire orientation and the monthly angel-demon networking mixer, and I have to find a solution that will not only please Jun but God. I'm this close to suggesting we go to Earth and book a Chili's."

The demon doesn't even pretend to listen to your mini rant, practically speaking over your last few words. "Do you think you can ask His Infernal Majesty if I can have the next full moon off?"

You cock an eyebrow at him. "Why would I do that?"

He looks around nervously. "Um. Because you're pure of heart and soul? And you like me?"

"First of all, only one of those two statements is true," you inform him, enjoying the way he frowns as he tries to figure out which it is, "and second of all, I meant why would I need to do that?" He stares blankly at you. "Ask him yourself."

He scoffs. "Are you crazy?"

"Yes. Next question."

The answer clearly catches him off-guard, and he stammers over several syllables before standing straight and shaking his head. "I can't ask him myself."

"Why not?"

He opens and closes his mouth several times but offers you no valid reasons. He shrugs pathetically before finally admitting. "Because he scares me!"

You look at him incredulously. "Jun… scares you."

"Don't say his name!" he shriek-whispers, frantically grabbing your wrist and pulling you even further down the hall and away from your desk. He stops just outside the copy room, where a damned soul is slapping the broken copy machine. "Of course he scares me."

"The man who needs to be reminded to eat lunch and take his vitamins despite being older than the world itself scares you."

"Yes."

"The guy who gets ghost pepper chip dust all over his fingers and wipes them on whatever surface is closest to him scares you."

Soonyoung doesn't seem to find an issue with that the way you do but he still nods. "Yes."

"The dude—"

"Yes!" he nearly shouts. "Yes! No amount of ridiculous things you say right now are going to convince me to not be scared of him! I am scared of him!"

The soul at the copy machine finally gets fed up and walks out of the copy room, screaming and nearly falling over, their papers flying every direction, when Soonyoung instinctively bares his teeth and growls. They run the rest of the way back to their desk, abandoning the papers they dropped.

You bend down to start collecting them and snort when you find meaningless doodles done by one of the executives whose office is on this floor.

"You see a very different, non-scary version of him, okay?" Soonyoung continues like he didn't just scare the shit out of someone himself. "You're not scared because you don't have to see him when Hell is down on damned souls for the quarter, or when I breathe wrong around him."

You raise your eyebrows. "And this is my problem, why…?"

"It's not a problem," he says, grinning mischievously. He squats down to help you pick up the papers. "It's an advantage! You're his favorite employee! If you ask him if I can have the day off, he'll say yes!"

You pause, looking up at him and laughing. "Me. His favorite employee. After one month."

"Yeah, don't rub it in, new kid," the demon grunts, rolling his eyes. "Some of us have been kissing his ass for centuries, and you walk in and suddenly own the place. But worry not. I'm choosing to view this as a beautiful opportunity, rather than something to be jealous of."

"Sure," you follow, nodding as you continue to gather the drawings that never saw the copy machine. "You still haven't given me a good reason why you can't do it, though. Your fear is not a good reason."

He groans. "Yes it is!"

"It isn't."

"Okay, I mean. On top of that, he'll just say no."

"Why do you think that?"

He stares at you blankly. When he realizes it's a sincere question, he licks his lips and sighs. "Dude. It's been a month. You haven't had a single day off and you haven't noticed?"

You frown as you pick up the last piece of paper. You stand and think about it. "Oh my god…"

"I thought about asking God a few centuries ago too," he says, misunderstanding you. He stands and takes the pile of papers from you. "Didn't work out. Turns out they have no say in each other's teams, and His Infernal Majesty doesn't like it when demons go over his head."

"Naturally," you mutter. "Not what I meant, though. I just didn't realize I'd been working so much."

"Yeah, yeah, time flies when you're having fun," he says, waving a hand. "Anyway, I really need the day off to go to Earth."

"And do what?"

His face lights up now. "I was summoned by a hot witch the other day, and I want to pay her a visit during the full moon."

"Ooooh, a date!" You lean in, actually interested in where the conversation is going now. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know about a date," he says bashfully, cheeks turning pink. "I just want to see—"

"Soonyoung. How many times do you want me to threaten your life for distracting my assistant?"

The demon squeals, all the papers the two of you picked up exploding into confetti as they rain down around you again. You sigh, staring as they fall to the ground, deciding immediately you will not be gathering them a second time. You look to your left to find Jun suddenly standing next to you, hands in his pockets as he stares daggers at the demon. You narrow your eyes at your boss and think, yes. Yes, you would probably be scared to be on the receiving end of that look.

But you're not so you aren't. You smile.

"Hi Junnie," you greet him. His eyes flick down to you and he shoots you a flat expression at your usage of the juvenile nickname in front of his demon. "Soonyoung has a favor to ask you."

The man in question shoots you a panicked and betrayed look before grinning nervously at his boss, who turns his attention to him now. He continues giving him that stupid grin for several seconds, failing to say anything until Jun raises one eyebrow.

"Well?"

"Oh! I, um. I was wondering if—if I could have, uh—"

"Spit it out."

"If I—um, couldhavethenextfullmoonoff." He swallows nothing. "Please."

You roll your eyes at the anxiety-riddled request.

"Absolutely not," Jun says immediately, inspiring a small, stunned gasp from you. You don't think you've ever heard him deny someone of something. But then again, you've never heard anyone ask anything of him. "You know how busy full moons are."

"No, yeah, for sure, I'm so sorry," he rambles, bowing his head a few times before giggling nervously and waving a hand. "That was so silly. Yeah. Dumb of me. I was actually just kidding. Got you! So silly. Ha…"

"Oh, come on!" you whine on behalf of Soonyoung, who looks at you with wide eyes and shakes his head quickly, silently begging you to shut up. Jun looks down at you, turning to face you completely. "That's so mean! He asked nicely!" You pause, shrugging. "Nicely enough. Why can't he have the day off?"

"Because it's the full moon."

"Okay…" you elongate the word. "And there will be many more full moons. This is just one, and you have thousands of demons. When was the last time Soonyoung had a day off?"

Jun suddenly averts his eyes, clearing his throat uncomfortably. You turn to Soonyoung, who refuses to answer. You frown at your boss.

"He's… he's never had a day off…?" you ask, making it clear how appalled you are at the idea. Your lip curls up in disgust and you look him up and down judgmentally. "What kind of boss are you?"

You gawk at him as his cheeks begin to turn red.

"You don't give your employees days off? Ever? How old are you, Soonyoung? Like a million years old?"

"Okay, relax," he mutters.

"A million years, and no days off? That's really horrible, Junnie. You should be embarrassed. I am very disappoi—"

"Soonyoung, go ahead and take the full moon off ," Jun practically barks at him, taking your arm in his grip at the same time. "Enjoy your day off, and stop talking to my fucking assistant or I'll have you as a midday snack."

The last thing you see before Jun turns you around and guides you back down the hall and away from Soonyoung is the huge, grateful, and excited smile on his face. You giggle, the sound cut off by a startled squeak when you hear the demon bellow at a damned soul.

"What the hell are you looking at?! Pick these papers up and make me a thousand copies!"

When your boss releases you back at your desk, you sit down, already back to figuring out the purgatory auditorium issue. It takes a few seconds for you to realize Jun isn't going anywhere, though. You pause, looking up at him and tilting your head.

"What is it?" you ask.

"I am a great boss."

"Uh," you exhale in a laugh. "Yeah. I know."

"Do you? Because you—"

"Oh, Junnie," you sigh, rolling your eyes as you return your attention to your computer. "Soonyoung just deserves a day off." You're not sure that statement is true, but you'll be damned if anything stops you from getting the first date gossip you're guaranteed now. "I know you're a good boss."

"Hm."

"Hm," you mimic him, smiling a little. When you look back at him, his eyes are narrowed like he's not sure you're telling the truth. "I wouldn't be willingly working seven days a week if you weren't a good boss, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Mhm."

"I'm just gonna—" he points at his desk, not bothering to finish his sentence as he disappears back into his office.

DAY THIRTY

You know something is wrong when you wake up on your own naturally, something you haven't done since you accepted the position with Jun. You frown from under your eye mask, hand coming up to rip it off your face. You slowly sit up, finding every single blanket and the duvet still atop you, and your eyes find the clock on the wall, finding that it's almost a full hour after your usual wake-up time.

"My alarm didn't go off," you mutter.

Jun is your alarm. Jun didn't go off. You shove the blankets off you, shivering a little as you slip off the bed and tuck your feet into your bunny slippers. You shuffle out of your bedroom, poking your head into the hall to find it barren and silent.

"Jun?" you call quietly, knowing he'll hear it regardless. He doesn't answer. You walk further out into the hall, going to the kitchen to find it empty. The coffee machine wasn't touched either, even though it's always on and ready in the morning.

Your anxiety spikes as you start to wonder if he left in the middle of the night without letting you know. You scramble back to your room for your tablet, pulling his calendar up and staring at it in confusion when you find nothing different than when you left it last night.

Meeting with Archangel Joshua Marketing Team pitch Block for contracts Block for collection Monthly Satan/God touchbase (leave 30m for travel to Purgatory) Hellhound training check-in Block for contracts 1:1 with Chief Torment Officer

His meeting with Joshua would've started five minutes ago, so maybe he was just running late and needed to go without you? When has he ever run late? You're not even sure he slept. He's had meetings much earlier than that and he never failed to wake you up and sit down for breakfast. You decide the only way you'll find out is if you head to the office and see if he's there. You're one leg into your pants when your phone starts ringing.

"Thanks for calling Hell. You've reached the Devil's office. How can I help you?" you half-grunt with your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you pull your pants on.

"Do you have any idea how busy archangels are?"

"Joshua!" you gasp, immediately forgetting your pants and leaving them unbuttoned as you take your phone into your hand. "Is Jun with you?"

"Funny," he says in a way that suggests he doesn't find that funny at all. You get the feeling you won't find what he says next humorous either. "I was about to ask you the same thing. He hasn't shown for our meeting, and while he's the most vexing person I've ever met, he's also never been late. I can only really wait ten more minutes before I have to go appear as a hallucination to some humans and ask them to build a home for the less fortunate."

You groan, free hand applying pressure to your temple and eyes squeezing shut. "You know what, just… go do that. I'm sorry about this. I accidentally double-booked him. Totally my fault. I'll work with your admin to reschedule. Sorry again." You figure you'll take the fall to keep Jun away from scrutiny until you can find out where the fuck he is.

"'Kay. Don't let it happen again," he sighs dramatically.

"Okay, relax, you glorified gnat with feathers," you scoff, continuing to get dressed. "I said sorry. Y'know what? Don't call me for these things in the future! Have Seungkwan do it next time. I don't want to be subjected to your whiny, little rants."

Joshua makes a noise of disbelief before laughing. "Wow, you're the perfect assistant for Satan. For the record, I was totally kidding. I got to sit here and do nothing but doom scroll, so I don't mind. But I will have my assistant call next time. Sorry for bothering you."

"Good. Don't let it happen again." You don't allow him a response, hanging up and gathering your things as you hurry to leave for the office.

But as you exit your room, you hear your name, called so softly, you would have missed it if you hadn't paused to make sure your tablet was on you. You freeze, frowning in the direction of the sound.

"Jun?" you call, mindlessly setting your bag down in the kitchen as you walk toward your boss's suite. You find his door at the end of the hall, a deep, dark blood red, open just a crack. You knock lightly, and when you don't hear anything, you poke your head through.

And there he is, your missing boss, still cocooned in his bed, his favorite Hellcat and Hellhound sleeping at his feet, the former passed out atop the latter.

"Junnie?" you call again. He groans this time.

"Y/N…" he murmurs, not moving an inch or opening his eyes.

You tiptoe into the room, making a kissy face at Key when the hound's tail starts wagging at the sight of you. The movement makes Lock slide off the dog, meowing helplessly as she does. You get to Jun's bedside and wince when you realize how sick he looks.

The Devil is pale, sweating with a sickly sheen, and looking so weak, it's the first time you've thought he could believably pass as human. You reach out to press the back of your hand to his forehead, but he swats it away.

"Hey!"

"Don't," he whispers, voice hoarse with fatigue. "Fever. I'll burn your skin off."

"Oh," you mutter, immediately taking your hand back. "You're sick. I didn't know the Devil could get sick."

"Demon Flu," he says, eyes fluttering open just enough to peek at you. "Soonyoung sneezed in my face the other day."

"Oh!" you blink at him in surprise. "Ew! Good to know! I will make a note to send him to the Hellhounds to serve as a chew toy for the day."

"Week."

"Got it," you say, nodding. You fidget a little, looking down at your boss with pity. He looks so helpless and sad and cute. You fight the urge to run your fingers through his damp hair. "What do you need? What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I'll be down until 3:33 a.m. tomorrow," he informs you.

"Specific."

"Just… do… assistant things," he says pathetically, fingers twitching when he tries to wave his hand dismissively.

You can do that. Your first order of business is getting him a tall glass of water and force-feeding it to him until he has rivulets of water very distractingly dribbling down his chin, neck, and between his pecs, where it disappears under the covers.

Then, you get him a cold compress, screeching in surprise when the towel crackles and steams upon contact with his forehead. When that warms up within a minute, you try getting him an actual ice block, chipped straight off the furniture of his weird ice room. You take his moan of relief as a good thing and quickly get to work butchering the ice room until you have an endless supply of blocks for Jun's sizzling forehead.

When you're done with that, you make him the hot pot you made yourself one night and noticed he had several helpings of, spoon feeding it to him despite his several protests. After two slurps, though, there isn't much of a fight, with Jun relaxing back into his pillows and happily allowing you to feed him as he lets his eyes close. You pause, wondering if he fell asleep, but he immediately whines for his next spoonful.

"You're a baby when you're sick."

"I could die."

"You literally couldn't."

He slurps his latest spoonful of broth. "Feels like it."

"Mmm," you hum, smiling at how endearing he is when he doesn't have the energy to put up his big, bad act.

"Y'know…" he rasps, "when I said do assistant things, I meant at work."

"My work is making your life easier, no?" you counter, letting go of the spoon to pick up the chopsticks and pluck meat out of the broth for Jun to eat. He practically purrs when his mouth closes around the chopsticks, and you struggle not to watch his Adam's apple as he swallows. "So I am doing assistant things at work."

Jun opens his eyes, able to open them wider than he was when you first found him. "Just work, hm?"

You set the chopsticks down and pick up the spoon to chase his bite down with broth, but his fingers circle around your wrist, stopping before the spoon can touch his lips. His grip is hot but it doesn't hurt—not how you imagine his face would. "You're full?"

"Why are you feeding me?"

You raise your eyebrows at him. "Because you're sick and need to eat…?"

Jun's eyes narrow infinitesimally, but he releases your wrist, allowing you to feed him more broth.

"Not used to being cared for, are you?" you observe, chuckling. "Big, bad Devil has never been spoonfed?" Your boss rolls his eyes but doesn't entertain you by acknowledging your question.

After a few more bites, his long, slender fingers gently push the bowl away, and he shakes his head, muttering a quiet thank you as you set the food aside on his nightstand. You stand, pulling his blankets up even higher when you see him shiver.

"You don't have to do all this," he sighs as you shove your fingers under his back and legs, tucking his blankets in along his entire body until he looks like an oversized, swaddled baby. "It's not in your employment agreement. Go work."

"I will," you say, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. "And you realize I can help you without being contractually obligated to, right?" you ask, laughing and collecting all the dishes you need to bring back to the kitchen. "You don't need to have me sign my soul away to get me to care, Junnie. I know I don't need to do any of this. Consider it a friend-slash-roommate helping you."

You finish cleaning up and don't allow him the chance to retort or protest, immediately turning away and calling Lock and Key to follow you out of the room.

"Come on, kiddies," you coo as his pets exit. "Your daddy needs to rest." You glance back up at Jun, who stares at you hard with a deep frown on his face. "Call if you need anything. I'll stay nearby and check on you in an hour!"

DAY THIRTY-SIX

Jun has been weird around you for the last week. It's like that dumb flu of his altered his brain chemistry and made him cold and detached.

There was no more going into your room to wake you up; now he has a shrill alarm clock appear to scream in your ear like a demented banshee, disappearing every time you try to smack wherever its snooze button is. He no longer sits for breakfast with you; now, he tells you he needs to be at the office ahead of you and will simply meet you there. Thankfully, he allows you to continue accompanying him to his summonings, but with how weird he's acting, you wonder if it would be better to just face your fears and be alone.

You attempted to talk to him throughout the week, trying not to take it personally when all you got were one-worded responses or grunts or blank stares.

Three days in, you started slacking a little to force him to say more than one word to you. You scheduled meetings so he'd show up ten minutes late. You sent a Hell-wide email promising everyone a four-day work week if quotas were met. You even threatened to release the lower-level sinners from their torture chambers to cause trouble for the archangels. All that got you was a severe glare, and a notice from Demon Resources that one more mistake would get you on a performance improvement plan, which you were informed would involve giving the Hellhounds baths alongside the damned souls in charge of that.

It's clear that Jun is in a mood—probably the aftereffects of the mysterious Demon Flu you can't catch. You've resigned yourself to riding it out, accepting that even the Devil is prone to tantrums and mood swings.

The phone on your desk rings, and you heave a tired sigh before answering.

"Hi. You've reached the desk of The Supreme Lord of Sulkiness," you greet loudly, ignoring the series of choked coughs that erupt from your boss's office behind you. "How may I help you?"

"Oh, uh…" the voice pauses like they're checking something. "This is His Infernal Majesty's desk, correct?"

"Yep, that's what I just saaaaid," you sing-song. "Now how can I help you?"

"This is the front desk. We have an archangel on the line that insists on speaking with His Infernal Majesty."

You roll your eyes. "Who is it?"

"Archangel Brayden…?"

The idiot is the biggest pain in your ass. You're not even sure why he constantly asks after Jun when Joshua is the archangel appointed with all relations having to do with Hell. It's probably a weird power play in Heaven that you're not privy to, but you've been dodging him for days now.

"Tell him he's not available."

"He is threatening to visit for the third time this week."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter.

"You want me to transfer him to Christ?"

You frown deeply at that. "What? We can transfer him to—wait, what?"

"You said—"

"Never mind, just—ugh," you groan in frustration, resting your elbows on the desk and cradling your head in your free hand. "Put him through."

"Will do." The line cuts to the agonized screams of damned souls as you wait for her to transfer him to you.

"Hello?" his dumb voice drifts through the receiver.

"Hi. You've reached the desk of—"

"Who am I speaking to?"

You clamp your mouth shut, rolling your lips between your teeth to keep from immediately snapping at him. When you're sure you won't, you state your name.

He still manages to say it wrong, but you don't bother correcting him. "I need a meeting with Satan."

"And why is that?"

He laughs arrogantly. "That's between me and him."

"Well, he's busy."

"I haven't even given you my availability."

"Don't need yours. I have his, and he's busy." You tack on "for the rest of time" for good measure.

There's a loaded silence long enough that you wonder if you've effectively driven him into hanging up. Of course, that would be too easy. "You really don't want to mouth off with me."

"Excuse me?" You huff a laugh of disbelief. You swear some of these angels are bigger assholes than the demons crawling around here.

"You heard me," he seethes. You feel your self-control dissolving by the second. "Now you can either transfer me to your boss like a good, little demon slave—"

"I am literally none of those four things."

"—or," he near-shouts over you, "you can put me in his books. This is a very important meeting, and I'd hate for you to have your soul ripped apart for failing to schedule it."

"Listen here," you hiss, "you repulsive, pretentious, foul excuse for an—"

"Brayden."

You freeze as Jun's voice cuts into the call. You turn toward his office to find him leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles. His eyes slide over to you and he lazily lifts a hand and beckons you over with two fingers. You quickly hang the phone up and stand, entering Jun's office in time to catch the archangel bumbling nonsensically on speakerphone.

He nods at the seats in front of him and you take one, slowly lowering yourself as he speaks.

"I don't believe we've met," Jun says, interrupting his stuttering.

"Um, no, we haven't! I just wanted to schedule a coffee chat to introduce myself!" You glare at the phone. A coffee chat is his very important meeting?

"What a fucking tool," you murmur.

"A coffee chat," the Devil repeats.

"Yes. I figured Hell is a huge place. Maybe you need two archangels to serve as point. I'd love to put my name in the ring—"

"And you thought threatening my assistant was the best way to do it?" Jun asks, face blank as he stares at you.

"Oh, no," he says, laughing like it's a joke, "No, no, definitely not. I was not threatening her."

"Hm."

You've grown accustomed to Jun's many variations of hm. There's his thoughtful hm. The hm when he's trying not to smile or laugh. His angry hm. The that-is-the-dumbest-thing-I've-ever-fucking-heard hm. A hm reserved especially for when Soonyoung annoys him. This one isn't one you're familiar with.

"What was it you were saying about her soul being torn apart?" Saying the words again makes Jun's eyes turn a deep red. His hands turn into fists, making the veins running up his forearm pop.

"I was joking!" Brayden insists. "I was totally joking. She and I joke like that! We—"

"Lie to me one more time and I'll have God cast you out of Heaven so fast, you won't know how you ended up in my Hellhound's digestive system."

The line falls silent, and your body does interesting things in reaction to the words—the most obvious one being the odd ache between your legs. You fidget a little, finger slipping into your collar and pulling a little as you begin to feel warm.

"How long have you been an archangel, Brayden?"

"Uh, well, heh," he laughs nervously. "So, I'm not quite an archangel yet. I'm—"

Jun cuts him off with a sharp, terrifying laugh. "And now you never will be," he informs him. "I'm sure both Archangel Joshua and God will agree that you aren't fit for that role."

He squeaks in protest. "I—"

"Wow, how productive!" Jun says with feigned glee. "Look at us, we had a great chat and we didn't even need to waste time breathing each other's air or ruining the joys of drinking caffeine."

"Uh, I, um, sir—"

"Have any other demands you'd like to make?"

"No," he answers immediately. "No, I… I don't. I'm sorry. I—"

"Perfect," he says. "Now if you'll apologize to my assistant, we can get on with our lives. And make it good, Brayden. I don't like to repeat orders."

"I'm so sorry," Brayden grovels, sounding like he's on the verge of tears, if not fully crying already. He sniffles and his voice cracks on his next words. "I don't know why I was acting like such an asshole and bothering all of you when I had no business going over Archangel Joshua's head like that. I'm sorry, Satan."

Jun narrows his eyes. "I don't want your apologies."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Hm," he accepts it. "Then I think our business is done. And Brayden?"

"Yes?" his voice trembles.

"If I hear that you called anyone here in Hell again, let alone my assistant," he starts, eyes flashing a bright and violent scarlet now, "I will personally come up there, pluck you right out of the fucking sky, and take my sweet, sweet time flaying you with a dull butter knife—wings and all—before I tear your soul apart, piece by agonizing piece myself."

There's a loud sniffle followed by a whimper on the line, but the ache inside you is so strong now, you can't even enjoy the sound.

"And if you think my friendships with your superiors will stop me, you are so sorely mistaken." His pause is pregnant with tension, his eyes boring into you as he lands his final threat. "I have absolutely no problem with starting a war over you."

The words send a chill down your spine, and you cross your legs tightly to keep from twitching at the sensation. You grip the arms of your chair and avert your eyes from your boss, trying to understand what the fuck is happening to your body right now. You quietly blow a breath out through your mouth when the sensation doesn't let up.

As expected, the angel doesn't have a proper response to that.

"Good talk, Brayden," Jun says sardonically. "Don't let me hear your voice ever again."

He reaches over and presses a button on his phone, ending the call. He looks back to you, his eyes finally fading back to that deep, comforting brown. He sighs, seeming suddenly and significantly less sure of himself than he was on the phone.

"Um," he clears his throat, coughing a little as he grips the edge of his desk with both hands. He looks down at his lap and inhales deeply. His breath is spicy with the smell of your chips on his exhale, blowing strands of your hair away from your face. "Sorry."

"Why?" you laugh in disbelief. The sound must unwind something in him because his posture relaxes and he looks back up at you. "That was amazing!"

He snorts, shaking his head at himself. "Yeah, well. It's going to result in a lot of discussions with God and Joshua, so… please find something on their calendars."

"Got it, boss," you say, standing to return to your own desk.

Before you get far, though, Jun calls your name, the syllables sounding weird from him—much softer and gentler than you've ever heard him be. It almost triggers your fight or flight for some reason.

"Yeah?" you ask slowly, eyes flitting about the room nervously.

"You don't have to stay on calls like that for my sake," he tells you, crossing his arms again, this time like he's almost trying to protect himself from you. "I know you took the blame for me missing all my meetings while sick, and I know you try to deal with all kinds of bullshit because you don't want people to think the Devil hired someone without a backbone."

The words strike a chord with you that you didn't realize even existed. Did you do that? If you think about it, you can see why your boss would think so. Day in and day out, no matter how much attitude you gave to whoever you were talking to, you still stayed and dealt with the problem so that the others would find you reliable—so that they wouldn't have to bring it to Jun.

You also took the blame for the missed meetings because Jun's health wasn't anyone's business, not until he made it clear it was okay to share with others, anyway. No one needed to know he missed a few meetings without notice.

"So… don't do that," Jun says, sighing. "Assholes—whether in Heaven or Hell—they're always going to try and give you a hard time because they're too scared to say it to my face. And I know without a doubt that you can handle it, but… you're not my shield, okay?"

"Okay."

"I know you were about to rip that prick a new asshole," he continues, making you smile, "but I want you to feel like you can do that from the jump if you need to. Next time, just tell him to fuck off. Or hang up. Or bring me in. Whatever. If anyone has an issue with the way you work, they can talk to me. Just… don't sit there and take it."

You nod slowly. "Alright, I won't… thanks."

"Mhm."

"Hey, Junnie," you say suddenly, taking advantage of his sudden willingness to talk to you now. He hums again, nodding for you to go on, his eyes skimming every surface of your face. It isn't until this moment that you realize he hasn't properly looked at you in a week. "Um. Are we good?"

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You've just been…" you trail off, shrugging. "I don't know, a little cold lately?" You hate how pathetic and whiny it makes you sound. "And if it's because I did something wrong, well, I would just like to remind you that our agreement can only be terminated by my death, the collapse of reality, or mutual agreement."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, but his expression stays serious and he keeps taking his time watching you. So much time, you start to wring your hands nervously. Finally, when he seems to be finished with studying every last millimeter of your face, he shakes his head.

"You haven't done anything wrong," he assures you, sounding tired. "I was just feeling weird. I'm okay, though. We're okay. You don't have to worry about termination. You've made it clear I'm stuck with you."

You grin, nodding. "Good. Because I have grown very accustomed to my unlimited interior design budget and my 1,000-thread-count sheets."

He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you have. Now go schedule me a coffee chat with God and Joshua for tomorrow, please. Move things around if you must. I'm sure Brayden has gone crying about it to Mommy by now."

You laugh. "Will do."

You leave his office feeling lighter than you have all week.

DAY THIRTY-SEVEN

Jun: where tf r u Me: have a dr appt!!! Jun: what why r u ok Jun: i'll come over Me: no it's ok it's just a check-up Jun: liar we don't do check-ups in hell Me: yeah well i am human and i need a check-up Jun: u sure ur ok? Me: yes! i'll be in the office soon. Jun: fine… if a few hellhounds find u just send them back Me: bruh Me: did you give the dogs my scent to find me??? Jun: u never wake up before me let alone leave the house before me Me: you could have just called Jun: k wtvr noted Me: 23 HELLHOUNDS IS NOT A FEW JUNNIE WTF Jun: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP JUST SEND THEM BACK

"His Infernal Majesty seems to be very… protective over you," the doctor observes, still clearly annoyed with having 23 fire-breathing Hellhounds at her door.

You wave a hand and laugh uncomfortably. "Oh, he's just a very concerned and, uh, considerate person."

The doctor just stares. "The Devil. Considerate. Right."

"Um. So anyway," you clear your throat, desperate to change the subject. "Do you have experience with humans?"

"No, but I will do everything I can to ensure you leave healthy." Her voice is stern and uncompromising, and you suddenly feel like you're in a principal's office rather than a doctor's. She sits down on a rolling stool, scoots closer to the table you're perched on, and mutters, "Wouldn't want more Hellhounds plowing my door down, ready to melt my face off because the Devil's charge was unhappy."

You shift on the table a bit uncomfortably but smile. It's clear that she will not be forgetting about the 23 Hellhounds sent to her office just because a human wasn't in bed when the Devil woke up anytime soon. Not while you're still in her office, at least.

Jun wouldn't do anything to her anyway. You'd probably just go to a doctor on Earth next time if Hell's medical services weren't sufficient.

"So what brings you in today?" she sighs, crossing her legs and folding her hands over her knees.

"Right, so I experienced something weird yesterday," you start. "I had a stressful workplace issue and my body reacted very unexpectedly, and I now require medical attention."

The doctor frowns, rolling closer to you on her stool. "Okay, if you're comfortable, can you describe the stressful event and how your body reacted?"

"Well, an angel was harassing the front desk so they had him talk to me, and then he started saying all this foul shit—"

"Brayden."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Yes! How did you know?"

"He's called every department of this Devil-forsaken hellscape," she says, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "How is a demon doctor supposed to get an archangel a meeting with the Devil?"

You scoff. "Well, he's not an archangel, and it was just a coffee chat."

The doctor snorts, and as you watch her terse personality start to melt, you deem it safe to dive into the full story. By the end of it, she's clapping and giggling, a massive difference from when she was forced to face 23 Hellhounds.

"Wow, that's very attractive of His Infernal Majesty."

You frown. "What?"

She raises an eyebrow at you. "You don't think so?"

"Uh…" You're stumped.

It's not that you've never found anyone attractive… actually, it absolutely is that you've never found anyone attractive.

You tried dating but stopped years ago when you recognized that you were doing it because you felt an obligation to. All your friends were dating or in long-term committed relationships—or at the very least, sleeping around. Dating apps seemed like something you were supposed to do. You quickly shut that idea down. Romance wasn't a hole you've felt in your life so it's not one you lingered on or thought about often. Sure, you knew when people were beautiful or handsome or hot or cute—you know without a doubt that Jun is all of the above. But attraction is harder. You're not sure you've ever felt it.

"You've never felt attraction." Your eyes widen at the demon physician.

"Can you read minds?"

She snorts. "No. I can read your face." She narrows her eyes at you and nods. "And I think I know what happened to you."

"But I haven't given you my symptoms."

"Let me guess," she says, crossing her arms and scooting her stool back so she can lean against the counter behind her. "Elevated heart rate, flushing, perspiration… maybe some pain in the abdominal area or… lower."

You stare at her. "Are you sure you can't read my mind?"

She smirks. "I'm sure, human." She sighs. "You're going to be perfectly fine. Though I do recommend you explore options for therapy."

You startle. "What? Why?"

"Because what you felt was arousal," she reveals, "and I'm guessing you might need someone to process those thoughts about your boss with and it will not be me."

You choke on nothing, triggering a coughing attack that lasts embarrassingly long. When you finally stop, your chest is heaving and the doctor is staring at you blankly.

"Are you done?"

"Coughing? Yes. With you? Absolutely not," you inform her, ignoring the way she sighs like this is an inconvenience. "What do you mean arousal?"

"I mean, you found His Infernal Majesty's defense of you attractive and your body responded accordingly. Very strongly—much more strongly than anyone else probably would—but accordingly."

Your face turns Hellfire hot, and you wish the dogs had barbecued you while they were here.

"You have nothing to worry about as far as your health is concerned. These feelings are very natural." She thinks for a moment before adding: "For humans. Demons are better at discretion."

"But… he was just being nice… why would that be attractive?"

She shrugs. "The bar is in Hell, literally."

"Oh god…" you murmur. Is this what happened to your friends when they insisted that a man paying half the bill after ordering several cocktails to their one water was modern day romance?

"I will say…" she starts, looking a little hesitant as she does.

"You can say it," you encourage her. "I won't tell anyone. HIPAA, right?"

"One, that's an American thing, and two, that's meant to protect the patient's privacy, not the other way around."

"Whatever," you sigh. "You get it."

"Between us girls," she says, even though you two aren't even of the same species. It makes you smile. "I understand why your body would react the way it did. It is quite nice to feel protected and safe."

"Protected and safe," you echo quietly.

"Mhm. Has anyone ever made you feel that?"

The answer comes to you fast. No. No one has ever made you feel protected or safe. That has been your own responsibility since you were four. Still, it takes you a moment to answer because you realize that although that would've been the answer a few months ago, it's more complicated now.

Now, the answer is: no. No one has ever made you feel that way. Not until Jun.

"Can I have a referral to that therapist?"

She smiles. "I'll give you a list of recs, but this isn't that putrid Hell hole you call Earth; you don't need a referral to seek healthcare."

"Right."

When you get into the office and Jun apologizes for the Hellhounds and asks if everything was fine at the doctor's (and if he needs to throw anyone into a vat of boiling oil), you feel your symptoms again. And you know Hell's doctor is right.

DAY FORTY-TWO

Hell is closed tomorrow, and it's all thanks to you. You hope that you'll be included in some sort of history book for this. Every demon you've come across has made it clear that you deserve to be anyway. Because after the debacle with Soonyoung's day off and a single complaint you made to Jun about how Hell doesn't have enough paid holidays, the underworld now has Demon Appreciation Day (DAD!), an unprecedented day off for all of Hell's employees as a thank you for their hard work terrorizing humans.

Unfortunately, it also means the damned souls get a break from torment, but Jeonghan, Chief Torment and Innovation Officer, has assured Jun he's already on it, figuring out ways to automate torture for one day so that the worst human beings in history do not get a break ever again.

"What are you going to do for DAD?" Soonyoung asks the current watercooler demon on shift as soon as she's done small talking a damned soul to tears.

"I'm going to abstain from speaking to anyone." You smile at the answer as you get your own cup of water.

"Oh," Soonyoung chirps, nodding slowly. She glares at him and he immediately walks away, beckoning you to hurry. "We don't want to mess with Jeongyeon when her social battery is dead." You wave bye to her and she winks at you. You know very well her social battery is always dead around Soonyoung no matter what. "Anyway, what are you, our amazing Queen of DAD, going to do on your day off?"

"Queen is a little excessive," you say, not very keen on taking a title that would encroach on any of Jun's millions, even as a joke. "Maybe mayor."

Soonyoung clearly doesn't like the suggested edit, scoffing. "No. Queen is fitting."

You roll your eyes. "Sure."

"What? It is! You're the reason we have our first mandated day off ever!" the demon reminds you. His mouth twists into a mischievous smirk now. "Plus, with all the rumors going 'round, 'queen' is perfect for our king."

You stop in your tracks. "What?"

He giggles so obnoxiously, you slap his arm more out of reflex than anything else. He gasps, rubbing the spot dramatically. "What?! I'm just the messenger! Everyone is talking about it."

"About what?"

"About how His Infernal Majesty must be in love with you if he's willing to create an entire day off just for you."

The words make your stomach jump into your throat. Ever since your appointment, you've been paying extra attention to your feelings, and you're convinced you actually have no idea what anything feels like. Have you ever properly known what you were feeling? What is a feeling anyway?

When Jun ripped the blankets off you in the morning, did you feel annoyed, furious, or helpless?

When Jun wordlessly handed you your coffee, did you feel grateful, enamored, or nothing at all because you were still half asleep?

When he wrapped his long ass fingers around your wrist to travel to Earth for summonings, did you feel giddy, excited, or grateful that you wouldn't be alone at home?

When Soonyoung says that there are rumors that Jun is in love with you, do you feel confused, anxious, or endlessly irritated with the demon?

Since you haven't had a chance to see a therapist, you pick the last one.

You scoff. "It isn't for me, you idiot. I just floated the idea by him."

"And any idea you float by him becomes a fully fleshed out thing by the end of the day."

"Okay, so he's a good and receptive boss."

His eyebrows rise at that. "He's the Devil."

Touché. "It's ridiculous."

"That he loves you to the point of invention? No, I d—"

You shove him into the wall, effectively making him spill his water all over himself. "Hey! You can't just go hitting people f—"

"Actually, I can!" you correct him, walking away. "Jun explicitly gave me permission to do whatever the fuck I want! So take it up with him!"

What a ridiculous rumor from an even more ridiculous demon.

Of all the much cooler rumors that could've been made, that one is the one they settled on? If you knew that's the news that would be spreading, you would've started your own rumors about yourself. Like you're actually God's super cool daughter and this is just a nepotism internship before you become the heiress of Heaven. Or that Hell is just a simulation being run by a crazy scientist named Jun and your arrival marks the imminent end of the experiment—an antichrist of sorts. Kind of poetic.

But the Devil being in love with his assistant? Both impossible and cliche and scary to think about because you don't think you'd be able to pick up on it even if it were possible.

When you return home, you're debating telling Jun about this rumor just to watch him stutter and squirm and turn red (and maybe make plans to disembowel a demon or two), but that's all forgotten when you find your boss back early from a meeting with God he took in purgatory. And endearingly enough, he's sprawled across the couch with both Lock and Key on his stomach and leg respectively, all three of them fast asleep.

You grin, taking several photos before you pocket your phone and watch his chest rise and fall, slowly coming to the realization that Jun needed this break too. You've never seen the man nap, and up until the day he got sick, you were still convinced he never even slept at all. If he's taking a nap, you know it's because he badly needs it. You're determined to leave him be, but you hear your name just as you're about to leave the living room.

"Hey," you greet him, smiling at how confused and sleepy he looks as he lifts his head and stares at his pets. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head, letting it plop back onto the couch when it's clear Lock and Key have no intention of moving. "No, I've been napping long enough," he says, his voice deep and gravely with sleep. You shift your weight from foot to foot as he continues speaking, settling for squeezing your thighs together when your sudden discomfort isn't alleviated. Oh god. Is this arousal again? "God cancelled last minute." He yawns, mouth opening comically wide. "Something about a miracle gone wrong."

"Ah," you nod, walking over to the three of them and taking the empty sectional by his head while you try to get yours to shut up. "What are your plans for this rare afternoon off then?" you ask. "And for DAD?"

Jun tilts his head up to look at you. "Stop calling it that," he deadpans.

"No," you say simply. "It's my holiday and I will call it what I want."

You expect him to point out it isn't your holiday; after all, you aren't even a demon. You're just the catalyst behind something that was a long time coming. But the argument doesn't come. Instead, your boss sighs and straightens his head again, staring at the ceiling.

"Fair enough, I suppose."

You raise your eyebrows, smiling. You're about to point out he basically just agreed that it's your holiday when you hear Soonyoung's stupid voice in the back of your mind. He created a holiday for you. Is that not a man who loves you?

You shudder, shaking a little like that will exorcise the demon from your subconscious.

"You okay?" Jun asks, looking back up at you.

"Huh? Yeah." You struggle to wipe the frown off your face before looking down at the Devil. "Want dinner?"

"Hot pot?"

"I've made hot pot several times this month," you groan. "Are you not tired of it?"

He looks at you like you're crazy. "No?" He sits up abruptly without removing Lock from his stomach first, and the cat releases an ear-piercing yowl before jumping off him. Key follows suit as Jun pulls his legs away and plants his feet on the floor. "You humans tire of things so fast. It's why you're all so vulnerable to temptation."

"Pfft. Me? Prone to temptation?" You pause and think of all the material things you've forced Jun to buy you under the guise of it being absolutely necessary for your productivity as his assistant. You shrug. "Okay, yeah. That is true."

Jun smirks and shakes his head. "Come on. Let's eat."

You nod, following him as he gets up ahead of you and walks into the kitchen. You slow at the door when you find him leaning his back against the fridge, his arms crossed and his lips pursed. He's blushing slightly, and he looks like he almost regrets doing this.

"Happy DAD, I guess."

The kitchen is decorated in every possible shade of pink you've ever seen—balloons, streamers, tinsel, confetti, a sign that says Demon Human Appreciation Day! And in the middle of the kitchen island is a cake, and just looking at it, you know it's not like the blood-based desserts that the demons around here like to indulge in.

"I never had a meeting with God," Jun mutters. "I just had you put that in for me. I was actually meeting Joshua to get this. It's angel cake. Actual angel cake. They use stardust sugar, moon milk, morning dew, and cloudberries. Figured you'd prefer this over devil's cake… actual devil's cake."

You stare at it, decorated beautifully with piped frosting and fresh berries. It's a pale pink—so pale, it looks white compared to the other shades that litter the space—and its frosting just barely glitters under the light. The top reads, Best Human Ever.

"Of course, the angels chose the message. To be clear, I would never call you the best."

You're finally snapped out of your daze at the words, which prompt you to roll your eyes. "Yes because you would use something much better. Like Most Perfect Human Ever, right, Junnie?"

His blush deepens and he glares at the wall across from him. "No."

You look around, stunned by the display of appreciation, especially for someone who was technically just fulfilling her part of the contract. You've never even gotten a birthday party thrown for you, and the happiness you're filled with threatens to strangle you. You swallow the knot forming in your throat, thinking that maybe DAD is your favorite holiday.

"Can I hug you?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh come on!" you whine, already walking to him with open arms. "You can't do something so kind and cute and wonderful and not accept a hug!"

He backs away from you, hands splayed in front of him to keep you away. "The Devil doesn't do hugs."

"The Devil probably also doesn't have a history of showing his assistant appreciation," you point out. "Or securing her an angel cake she's going to eat in one sitting!"

Jun pauses, frowning. "One sitting?! It's meant to serve 10 people!"

"Give me a hug!" you shriek, jumping at him.

He, of course, disappears. You stumble into the space he was just standing in and gasp in mock offense at being evaded. You spin around, pouting, and find him right behind you, glaring. You sigh.

"Okay, if you're really not consenting to a hug, I will not force you into one. But if you're just being an emotionally constipated weirdo, I would ask that you suppress that for DAD and allow just one—" You hold up one finger for emphasis. "—hug. Please."

Jun's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nothing, his eyes zoning out on something above your head. He shakes his head and sighs. "Fine. One hug, bu—oof."

You don't wait for him to finish his sentence, hugging him so tightly, you immediately start sweating from the heat radiating through his clothes. But you don't care, tightening your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek as far into his chest as it will go. You're on the verge of tears and your boss doesn't need to see it.

When he realizes you fully intend on making your hug last more than a millisecond, a single hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, thumb hesitantly sweeping back and forth in a comforting caress.

For the first time in several days, you don't bother to check in with your feelings and you decide maybe it's time to stop. Because this just feels nice, and if it feels nice, then that's all you want to know. Everything else is noise that threatens to pop this bubble of safety you're in—Jun's arms. You decide then that the nuances of your happiness are none of your business as long as you are happy. Happy. Something you're starting to think you've never fully been now that you've truly experienced it here, in Hell.

"Thank you, Junnie," you mumble against his chest. You know it's easy to tell you've been brought to tears from the way your watery voice trembles, but thankfully, the Devil doesn't point it out. "You don't know how much this means to me."

He sighs, squeezing your shoulder. "I think I do." After a moment, he adds: "Thanks for everything you do for Hell… and for me. You are very…" He clears his throat uncomfortably, "… appreciated here."

You smile, sighing as you finally pull away from him, wiping at your eyes discreetly as you do. "Thank you. Now let me make you hot pot and let's eat this cake."

You turn away fast to hide your glassy eyes, missing the way Jun rests a palm to his chest where you had just been pressed against him.

JOIN MY PERMANENT TAG LIST • next part »

A/N: again, this is already done and tumblr just kept me from keeping this a one shot bc of its 1000 block limit bc it HATES ME! i've queued the next part to release this wed 7/1 so pls stay tuned! :)

[miaoua3]

Big Dick! Jun Hcs

pairing: bf! jun x f! reader

genre: smut (MDNI), raw sex (dont be silly wrap the willy), blow job, eating you out, allusion to size kink, soft but freaky big dick! jun, squirting, brief mentions of fainting

note: i need him in my womb (also i dont wanna hear all the “uH yOu mAKE iT sOuNd uNrEaLiStIc wItH tHe SiZe oF hIs cOcK-“ MAN STFU I KNOW THAT MAN HAS A FUCKING MONSTER COCK IN HIS PANTS AND I WANT A SPIN ON IT NOWWWWW)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

big dick! jun who proves that some stereotypes really do exist for a reason-and he proves the “it’s always the skinniest guys with the biggest cocks” stereotype to be true. who had your jaw drop so low when you saw his beautiful cock-so thick, curved and with an angry red tip. the veins splattered all over the length just added the salt to injury. big dick! jun who was so big, you just knew you were never going back to all the excuses

big dick! jun who is also an eater-he always tries to pass it off as him eating you out in preparation for that monstrous cock of his, but when you squirt for the second time all over his face, that reasoning becomes somewhat doubtful. who pushes and twists his long and thick fingers inside of your pussy so expertly and deliciously, it makes you wonder what kind of techniques he’s hiding from you that he uses when he fucks

big dick! jun who always insists on fucking you from behind while you two lay on your sides, citing that this way he won’t reach as deep inside of you and that he won’t hurt you. who despite thinking this, still reaches your g spot from the get-go. who is so big you literally feel him in your lungs, that are already restricted in a way due to him tightly hugging you to his chest, making sure that you stay there and take it like a good girl

big dick! jun who loves just laying that big cock of his on your stomach, hips pressed together as he looks at his length rest on your stomach. he actively visualises how far inside of you he can reach, how far his cock can touch your insides, how fat and big it looks in comparison to the rest of you-such a tiny thing, compared to him. a lot of people keep forgetting that he is big, that just because he’s lean and skinny for his size doesn’t mean that he’s small by any means-this man is almost 2m tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. nothing about him is small-especially not his dick

big dick! jun who, as much as he enjoys the feeling of your lips wrapped around his lips, is still scared of letting you fully envelope his dick with your lips, afraid of letting you slide fully down his dick. he is just so big, he would 100% bruise your throat if he let you go at it like a maniac that you are. that’s why he always has a firm grip on your hair, pulling you back the entire time, even as he’s moaning and whimpering while you try your best to reach further down his cock, swallow more of his length. who will pull you completely off himself when he notices you trying to disobey him and who will immediately pull you up by his grip on your hair to lay you across his lap and spank you for being a brat

big dick! jun who full on had a heart attack (almost) when he fucked you so good, so much and hard, when he reached so deep inside your little pussy, that you legitimately forgot to breathe and lost consciousness for about 15 seconds because of it. who since that day, does not go fast at all, opting for slooooow, and deep, and fluid hip movements while fucking you instead. who will get you crying for his cock just as hard, no matter what pace he sets.

big dick! jun who doesn’t even have to bother with dirty talk because you get so lost in your own mind just by focusing on his big cock, focusing on squeezing him and focusing on your breathing as he fucks you. who will babble incoherent things in your ear, all of which you won’t even hear as you are too busy with focusing on the feeling-feeling his cock all the way up in your stomach, right under your belly button, so thick and so long it genuinely makes your head empty, only his dick and name on your mind

big dick! jun who is not only big in length, but also so girthy-i’m talking your pointer and thumb finger do not touch when you try to wrap your whole hand around the base of his dick. who is so thick that when he asks you to jerk him off so he can paint that pretty fave of yours white with cum, you have to use both your hands to do it. who is so thick, you genuinely need him to just stand still once he bottoms out inside that pussy of yours. who is so thick, the head of his cock is all you can swallow before you feel your mouth be completely full

big dick! jun whose dick you love so much, it’s no wonder you lock your legs around his hips once you notice his pace start getting a bit irregular, chanting, begging, crying in his ear for him to cum inside you, to cream inside you, to let you take it all, to let your pussy swallow every last drop of his cum, to let your pussy welcome in the entire length inside. big dick! jun who gets so aroused by the idea of cumming so deep inside you, by the idea of watching his cum then spill out of that same pussy, that he ends up giving you exactly what you want, what you need

big dick! jun who actually makes you lose all and any ability to walk, speak and think afterwards, so the aftercare is not only a must for him, he actually gets angry if you try to deny him this. who will kiss you lovingly, gently fix your hair as he hugs you, who will quietly talk to you if you are still crying, saying things like “it’s okay my sunny, it’s okay, i’m here, let it all out baby. shhh, it’s okay.” who will insist on carrying you everywhere around the house the next morning-from the bed to the bathroom, from the bathroom to the kitchen where he will feed you, from the kitchen to your shared living room where he will massage your thighs (to relieve the pain and cramps ofc, totally not because of his own pleasure and because he loves thighs more than the idea of air, nope). who will genuinely get angry if you try to walk yourself, angrily asking you “where the fuck do you think you are going to? did i say you can walk? no so-“ *cue him picking you up princess style. big dick! jun who has the biggest cock ever, and an even bigger heart❤️

[fromees]

you snapping back for once | ot13

Seungcheol

he was piling things on you like he always does, assuming you’d handle it because you always do. normally, you don’t mind, you love him for trusting you. but today, everything was heavier. you were tired, stressed, struggling with everything at this point. when you finally spoke up, telling him you couldn’t do it all today, his jaw tightened, and the silence hit. he didn’t argue. later, he pulled you close and whispered that he didn’t realize, and that he loved you and respected you even more for speaking your mind.

Jeonghan

he tries to tease you like usual, joking about something small he thinks is funny. normally, it’s cute and you laugh along. today, it hits wrong you’ve had enough. The moment you snapped, He freezed, eyes wide. You feel your chest tighten instantly you didn’t mean to yell, you love him so much, but he needs to see how it hurts. he nods, swallowing, and later pulls you into a hug, whispering he loves you and won’t joke about that anymore.

Joshua

he’s constantly trying to “fix” everything for you, offering solutions you don’t want or need. normally, you love that he cares so deeply, but today it makes your chest ache. when you finally snap, he stiffens, shocked by the intensity of your feelings. he doesn’t interrupt or explain he just stays present. later, he holds you close, showing he understands, and makes sure you know your feelings always come first.

Jun

he’s been unintentionally interrupting, filling in when you’re speaking. normally, you dont care abt it because you love his enthusiasm, but today it pushes you over the edge. when you snap, he freezes instantly, finally letting you finish. later, he stays quietly by your side, showing you he’s fully attentive now, and proving in every small gesture that he loves and respects you.

Soonyoung

he’s been buzzing around all day, full of plans and jokes, expecting you to keep up like you always do. normally, you love how alive he makes every moment, how he pulls you into his energy, but today it’s different your head aches, your chest is tight, and every little demand feels heavy. when you finally snap, he stands frozen for a moment, really seeing the weight behind your words for the first time. no complaints, no teasing he just steps back, giving you space, letting you breathe. later, he quietly sits nearby, watching how you relax, offering small touch a hand on your shoulder, a brush of fingers letting you feel that he loves you endlessly and will be careful not to crowd your space again.

Wonwoo

he’s quiet, distant, and usually you love that calm presence. today, it makes you feel alone, and your frustration bursts out. he doesn’t react harshly he simply listens, eyes steady. later, he stays with you, holding you close, making sure you know he’s proud of you and loves you, and that opening up is safe.

Jihoon

he notices you struggling silently, trying to keep everything together. normally, you love his quiet support, but today it feels like he’s brushing past the weight you carry. when you snap, he freezes, jaw tight, taking it all in. he doesn’t argue or explain. he just stays steady. later, he holds you close, showing without words that he loves you, understands, and respects your boundaries.

Minghao

he’s offering advice and perspective, as he always does. normally, you love it, god it even calms you. However today, it feels dismissive, like your feelings aren’t the focus. when you snap, he freezes, really hearing the intensity behind your words. later, he hugs you gently, letting you know he loves you and that your feelings matter first, solutions second.

Mingyu

he keeps apologizing quickly, like he always does. normally, you love his eagerness to make things right. today, it isn’t enough, and your frustration comes out sharp. he pauses, replaying every word, listening fully. later, he stays close, checking on you constantly, showing through gestures that he loves you and is committed to changing for the better.

Seokmin

he cracks jokes to lighten tense moments, usually a source of comfort you adore. today, it makes your chest tight, and you snap. he stops immediately, eyes wide, taking in your frustration. later, he lingers nearby, showing you he loves you and will take your words seriously, proving he understands without needing to say it.

Seungkwan

he jumps in, speaking for you, like he always does out of love. today, it frustrates you, and you snap. he freezes, startled, and stays quiet, letting you have the space you need. later, he sits near you, gentle and attentive, showing that he loves you and wants you to feel empowered to speak for yourself.

Vernon

he always avoids uncomfortable topics, like he always does. normally, you love his calm nature, but today it makes you feel unseen. when you snap, he listens fully, nodding, taking in the weight of your frustration. later, he stays by your side, holding your hand and showing that he loves you and will face hard things with you, without dismissing anything.

Dino

he brushes off your feelings lightly, normally playful in ways you love. today, it lands wrong, and your frustration bursts out. he freezes, surprised, then stays quietly with you, absorbing it. later, he hugs you tight, making sure you know he loves you and will always take your feelings seriously.

[straylightdream]

chains of love

˙⋆✮ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bes!wen junhui x f. reader

He’s always been a fighter and a protector in every lifetime. No matter how hard he tries evil always follows you in one way or another. You have no clue who he is until you come face to face with the man, warding off the evil from your dreams. You find him in an abandoned warehouse fighting in an illegal boxing match. The man in the ring winning instantly captures your attention in every way possible.

˙⋆✮ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, smut, angst

˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐮(𝐬): underground boxing au, reincarnation au, egyptian god au, soulmate au

˙⋆✮ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 14k

˙⋆✮ 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit adult content, violence, gang activity, fighting, injuries, blood, mc has a shitty ex that won’t leave he alone and is harassing her and practically stalking her, attempted murder, sex work, and stripping.

˙⋆✮ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected p in v, creampie, fooling around in the shower, hand job, choking, body worship, couch sex, riding, fingering, they’re both kinda desperate, lots of making out, nipple play Nicknames: baby, bunny (hers)

˙⋆✮ 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

˙⋆✮ 𝐚𝐧: this was written for ‘Sand of Time’ hosted by @sailorsoons & @daechwitatamic thank you @aeristudios for helping me figure out this story. Thank you for beta reading @thestraybunny. Divider by @/saradika-graphics.

🎧: kiss it better - rhianna | dying for you - charli xcx | do i wanna know - the arctic monkeys | shrike - hoizer | chains of love - charli xcx

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

PROLOGUE: ITS ALWAYS BEEN ABOUT YOU

Every single existence he's ever had, he's been a fighter. He's lived too many lives times to count. His life as the god Bes makes him a protector. He's lived so many lives protecting people and warding off evil spirits. There’s another repeating situation when it comes to every one of his lives, you. He is put on earth in every life to protect; women, children, and you.

This life is no different. His weekend nights are spent in a warehouse on the dark side of town. This time he wears a mask to hide his identity. The crowd knows him as Bes.

In every lifetime he has you. He sees you in his dreams, and he knows you see him in yours. He counts down the days until he can finally meet you again.

ONE: NOT ALWAYS PROUD OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE.

Too many nights you spend working in this hell hole of a club. This place is located on the rougher side of town, and a seedy owner who works with very powerful men. The front looks like a normal bar, but through a pair of metal doors the darker and scandalous things unfold. On the stage there is a pole and girl who is dancing to the beat of a sultry song. You've found yourself up there too many times. It's been a couple months since you've stripped. Recently you've been working as a waitress. You're dressed just as scantilly as the girls who walk on that stage. Dressed in a tiny dress with no bra, and a pair of sky high heels.

With a tray in hand you're walking from table to table taking orders. Walking over to the bar you find your favorite bar tender Jeonghan.

"Table ten wants an old fashioned."

"Bunny, why are you here tonight?" Jeonghan is only one of two people you're close with here. He's been calling you Bunny since he met you. He says you're cute like a bunny.

"I'm working." He's asking you why you're here, because this is the ninth day you've been here in a row.

"Why aren't you taking any days off?" Jeonghan asks, as he's making the drink.

"I'm saving money so I can take a self defense class."

"Is Dae still threatening you?” Jeonghan knows all about you ex. Dae and you dated for two years, and broke up over eight months ago and since your break up, he has been harassing you. He's connected to the gangs that run this city and isn't someone to mess with. Over the last two months he's been basically stalking you.

"He won't leave me alone." Jeonghan sits the drink on the counter.

"Bunny, I know a guy. His name is Junhui. He's a fighter and if I tell him about Dae, I know he'll teach you to fight. He's got his own gym and everything."

"Okay." You know that Jeonghan wouldn't send you to a sketchy man, to teach you to fight.

The night goes on in a blur. You keep waiting tables, and you can't count the amount of men who have tried to touch you.

The doors swing open, and you see Dae and a few gang friends walk in. Immediately you feel sick. You glance over at the bar and see Jeonghan watching carefully.

Looking over by the stage you see your boss signaling you towards their table. You shake your head and try to walk away, attempting to rush backstage.

Someone grabs your hand, and immediately you know it's Dae. "Baby, why are you running away?"

Stopping dead in your tracks. You look at him, trying not to show any emotions. "Let go of me."

"If I let go, you'll run away, and we need to talk."

You groan, pulling your shoulder back attempting to get away. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Baby don't be like that."

"Let go of me." You seethe.

This isn't the first time he's shown up. He's just never been brave enough to touch you like this. When you were with him he definitely sucked and was an asshole. He was the definition of a shitty boyfriend, but he never laid a hand on you.

You pull forward quickly, before he drops your hand. You look up to see Mingyu, the body guard holding your ex. "You don't touch the girls, asshole." Mingyu pulls him back.

Dae throws his elbow back attempting to hit Mingyu. Except he doesn’t stand a chance at even moving the mountain that is Mingyu.

'Time to leave, buddy." You look behind him to see another bouncer kicking out Dae's friends.

"Baby, you can't avoid me. We will talk." Mingyu drags him out of the club. Shaking your head rush to the back. Your eyes brim with tears, you're overwhelmed and caught off guard.

The door to the back opens and Mingyu steps into the back. Reaching up you push away your tears. Mingyu silently watches you for a second before he holds open his arms. You don't say anything, you step into his arms. He holds you close and rubs your back.

Since you started working here you've grown close with Mingyu. The bouncer has become like a brother to you. He always goes out of his way to protect you.

"Bun, you should go home." He's picked up on using the same nicknames for you that Jeonghan uses.

"I need the money." You pull away from his hold.

"Jeonghan told me about his friend who is a fighter. I think you should talk to him."

"Okay."

-

The night comes to an end finally. You're sitting at the bar with Mingyu counting your money. Most the girls are in the back packing up, and some waitresses are heading home. You don't plan on leaving until Jeonghan and Mingyu can walk out with you. Jeonghan is working on cleaning up the bar. He doesn't have too much more to do before he's good to go.

"Bunny, Junhui has a fight tomorrow at the warehouse on twenty-third tomorrow night. Why don't you go with me tomorrow and you can meet him?"

"Okay." At this point you want to know how to protect yourself against Dae.

"Should you guys be going to an illegal fight night?" Mingyu asks, looking up from his phone.

It's probably not the best idea, but you're desperate. If Jeonghan thinks this Junhui guy can help you, you're willing to go meet him.

"I'll keep her safe." Jeonghan responses.

Mingyu sighs, and rolls his eyes. "Just call me, you guys need me. I have a date, but if things go south I can meet up with you guys."

TWO: THE MIDNIGHT MAN AND THE GIRL WHO HAUNTS HIS DREAMS

It's late at night when Jeonghan picks you up. He takes you to the sketchy part of town that's filled with warehouses.

Based on the amount of people hanging out outside smoking, the loud music that is pulsating all you would swear this is a night club.

Lacing his fingers with yours Jeonghan pulls you inside. You weave your way through the crowd where all the noise is coming from. Pushing your way through he brings you over to one of the corners for the fighters. A tall man dressed in very fashionable street wear greets Jeonghan.

"Minghao, this is my friend _____."

Minghao nods in your direction. "You're the one Bes is going to teach to fight?" You've never heard the name Bes before, you thought you were meeting up with someone named Junhui.

"Bes?"

"That's the only name he goes by here." Minghao responds.

"Oh."

"How is Chan doing?" You assume Chan is one of the boys in the middle of the empty space fighting.

"He's doing good, he's winning."

You watch as the smaller of the two men, seems to be winning. He’s getting a few good punches in. This warehouse is packed, the sounds of booming base music, and the loud cheers rattle your chest. Looking around you see a mix of people like you, struggling to get by and people who are dressed in high luxury brands.

Minghao pats Jeonghan on the back. “You should go see Bes before the fight.”

Jeonghan takes your hand leading you towards the back. Standing at the door you see a buff man in a suit blocking the back door.

“Hao told us Bes wants to see us.”

The bouncer glances passed both of you. Turning back, you see Minghao nod his head, the bouncer steps aside. The backroom is practically empty other than a couple folding chairs, and a few duffle bags. In the middle of the room you see a man wearing a face mask covering from below his eyes down. He’s clearly warming up. The other man is holding up gloves helping him practice.

“Soonyoung.” Jeonghan says releasing your hand.

Immediately the boys stop practicing. Soonyoung walks over and gives Jeonghan a hug. The man who was referred to as Bes stares at you silently. Slowly he tilts his head as if he’s studying you. Without thinking you step closer to him. There is something about him that you’re immediately drawn to. He doesn’t move, he’s locked in place watching you.

The door you walked through swings opens. Another man dressed in an expensive suit steps into the back.

“Bes, it’s your turn. Kick Parks ass. I have a lot of money riding on this fight.” The man shouts before walking out.

Jeonghan grabs your hand pulling you towards him. “We’ll meet you guys back here after the fight.”

The man behind the mask doesn’t say anything, he just watches as Jeonghan leads you back out the door.

Walking back into the warehouse things feel different. EDM music is booming through the speakers. Jeonghan leads you back over towards Minghao. You look to the other side of the ring to see a tall man with a similar build as Junhui. He’s covered in tattoos with dark hair.

The speaker crackles as someone shouts, “Bes!” The room instantly erupts. Soonyoung walks out next to Junhui, with the man in the suit flanking behind them. Junhui shirtless, wearing black cargo pants, and no shoes. Your eyes are instantly captivated by his beautiful body. He stops next to you and nods before walking to the center of the empty space.

Jeonghan never releases your hand as the fight starts. The bass is booming as they go blow for blow fighting. It’s clear that Junhui who everyone refers to as Bes is a very skilled fighter. The other fighter lands a solid kick on Junhui ribs, sending him shuffling back. Your eyes never leave him. He takes another step back gathering himself, before launching towards Park. With every single punch Junhui is getting the upper hand.

Park doesn’t give up though, he keeps giving Junhui firm kicks to the ribs. Junhui gets a strong kick to his jaw, sending Park down to the floor. The crowd erupts the moment he hits the concrete.

The same person that was dressed in the expensive suit walks into the middle and declares Bes the winner. Junhui dips his head, before walking back to back. The man in the suit hands Minghao a huge stack of money. Minghao gives him a curt nod, before him and Soonyoung follow Junhui to the back. Jeonghan squeezes your hand before dragging you off. Jeonghan locks the door as you step into the to room.

“Is it locked?” Minghao asked.

“Yeah.” Jeonghan says before releasing your hand.

Junhui takes off his face mask. He’s maybe ten feet from you. He takes a deep breath as he stares at you. For years you’ve had dreams of the man who is standing in front of you. Maybe it’s not him, but you feel like you know him.

“Jeonghan, who is this?” Junhui finally speaks.

“This is ___, she’s the girl who I mentioned.”

Reaching into his duffle bag, he pulls out a black hoodie. He pulls it on slowly, clearly sore from the fight. “You need to learn self defense right?”

“Yeah.” You finally speak.

“Why does she need to learn to fight?” Soonyoung asks.

Minghao seems like he’s barely paying attention. He’s more focused on counting the wad of money he was handed.

“My ex won't leave me alone."

“Fuck.” Minghao chimes in.

“The dude is an asshole. He won’t leave her alone at work now. Mingyu and I are trying to protect her, but we can’t always be there.” You’re scared of your ex, but at least you know at work and whenever you’re with them, they’ll keep you safe.

“I’ll teach you to fight.” He steps closer to you. “I’ll help keep you safe.” You don’t understand right now, but Junhui will do anything to protect you.

“I appreciate it.” He steps closer and instantly stops in his tracks.

“Jeonghan can give you my contact info.”

“Okay.”

THREE: A SPARK LIKE YOU’VE NEVER FELT BEFORE

The address Junhui gave you is a gym on the west side of town. It’s about a twenty minute walk from your place.

Standing outside the gym, you notice there are brick apartments above. Looking at the address again you realize that it’s for one of the apartments. You see a glass door. Walking over to it you pull it open. His building is nice, it definitely is newer than yours. Walking up the stairs you see the numbers and walk two doors to the left.

You aren’t quite sure why you’re nervous. You give the black painted wood door two firm knocks. You step back and wait. It only takes about thirty seconds before Minghao opens the door.

“Hello.” He gives you a small wave, before stepping aside.

You give him a polite nod. Stepping inside you look around. The apartment is an open concept for the kitchen and living area. There looks to be a small hallway where you assume the bedrooms are located. The walls are a mix of brick, and grey paint. The floor is a dark hard wood with a big green rug in the living area.

“Jun is in his room. Let me go grab him.” Minghao excuses himself, leaving you go awkwardly stand in the living room. You keep looking around, taking in the details of their shared space.

Looking over at the hallway you watch as both boys walk out. Minghao is now wearing a coat. He gives you another nod.

“I’m going to meet up with Chan and Soonyoung.” The front door clicks and suddenly you’re alone with the familiar man.

He’s dressed more casually today. He’s wearing a black tank top that hugs his toned body, and a pair of black joggers. His hair looks fluffy, almost as if his hair has been freshly washed.

“I feel like I should properly introduce myself.” You realize that at the warehouse he only really learned your name. “I’m ___, you can call me bunny if you want. Jeonghan and Mingyu call me that.”

He smiles at your cute nickname. “Bunny?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, but the short version is, according to Jeonghan, I’m cute like a bunny.”

“I’m Junhui. My friend call me Jun, and you can as well. Whenever I’m fighting I go by Bes. If you ever watch me fight again, or you see me in a mask please just call me Bes.”

“Why Bes?”

“Bes is a god who is a protector. I’ve lived my life trying to protect women and children.” Something about him feels so safe. You don’t know him, but you feel as if you’ve always known him.

“I like that.”

He steps closer to you. “I’ll teach you to protect yourself, and I’ll protect you.”

“Thank you.”

“Let me take you to the gym downstairs. I own it with Hao.”

He leads you to the door. He slips on a pair of sneakers and grabs a set of keys from the bowl that’s sitting on a table by the door.

Neither of you say anything as you head downstairs. He walks up to the door and slowly opens it. Stepping inside you see some fighting equipment. It’s clear based on the fight you watched, and Junhui’s build that he's a trained fighter.

He leaves you standing on the padded mat to look around, walking over to the box and pulls out gloves. He walks back over to you. “Do you know how to fight?”

“I know how to punch someone.”

“Do you know how to defend yourself?”

“Not really.”

He hands you the gloves. “Put these on.”

You put them on with his help. He moves so you’re standing in the middle of the padded floor. Holding his bare hands up, he nods. “Alright, punch my hands.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“I take punches for a living. No offense you don’t hit as hard as the men I fight.”

You throw a punch at his left hand and then his right now.

“Good job, now do it again.”

For about two hours he trains you on fighting and defense. You’re absolutely exhausted, and sitting on the floor with your back against the wall. Junhui is sitting next to you. He holds out a bottle of water. You take a huge gulp of water.

“You did good.” He says.

“How are you still standing after fighting? I’m exhausted.” You lean your head back against the wall.

“I’ve trained for this for a long time.”

You take another big sip of the water. “What made you become an underground fighter?”

He pushes his fingers through his hair. “I’ve always been good at fighting. I realized early on when I would fight I would get this adrenaline rush. Fighting in that warehouse just became quick and easy money for me.”

“Oh.”

He grabs his own water and takes a big sip. “I feel like I should get to know you. Where do you work?”

“I work at the same club Jeonghan does.” Junhui has never been to a club, but what he has gathered from Soonyoung and Jeonghan it sounds like it's a club and a strip club. He’s not sure what your job is, but he doesn’t care if you’re a stripper.

“What do you do there?”

“I’m a waitress.”

“Where do you live?”

“Downtown, near the train station on seventh street.” Junhui knows exactly where that is. That isn’t the best part of town. He knows the rent is cheaper there. Soonyoung used to date a girl who lived a couple blocks from there. It’s about a twenty minute walk from the warehouse district.

“Do you walk to work?” He doesn’t like the idea of you walking home at night.

“Sometimes. Other times Jeonghan or Mingyu take me home.”

He pushes himself off the ground. “Maybe you shouldn’t be walking home if your ex is stalking you.”

“I know. It’s really rare for me to walk home.”

Junhui holds out his hand. You take it, and he pulls you up. “Call if you ever need a ride home. I’ll pick you up or Hao can.”

“You’re already doing too much for me, by helping me learn to fight.” You look down and realize he’s still holding your hand. Him holding your hand feels so natural.

“I promised you that I would keep you safe, and I meant that.” He releases your hand.

“I feel like I know you for some reason.” You knit your brows, you can’t fully explain what you’re feeling.

He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you with an unreadable expression.

“Maybe we were meant to know each other.” He finally responds.

“Maybe.”

“Did you walk here?”

“Yeah.”

“Let me drive you home.”

FOUR: ALL THE MESSED I’VE MADE, LEAD ME BACK TO YOU

Over the last month and half you’ve been going to Junhui’s place by train three times a week. You’ve grown quite close to the masked fighter. You’ve even gone to a handful more of his fights. It's become clear that Junhui is the star fighter of that underground fight scene.

It's a day you're off and went to Junhui's gym for training. You've gotten quite good at boxing. Junhui is holding up his hand helping you hit moving targets. He's wearing a proud smile at how good you've gotten.

Junhui is standing by the wall drinking water while you fix your hair. Junhui can't help but be distracted sometimes at how beautiful he thinks you are.

You turn and give him a smile. "What are your plans this evening?"

"I don't have any. Minghao is out on a date so I think I'm home alone."

"Would you want to hang out and get dinner together?"

"Sure." You don't realize but Junhui will do anything you ask him to do.

You end up at a little hole in the wall bar that serves delicious Thai Food downtown that you love.

There is a cozy little booth by the back wall. You're each drinking a bottle of beer while sharing a couple plates of delicious food.

You notice how comfortable Junhui has grown around you. He's dishing himself some pad thai while listening to you tell a story about growing up.

"How long have you been at the club?" He asks.

"Five years. The money is really good there." You really hope he doesn't push for too much more information about the club.

"How long have you lived alone?"

"About two years. I used to live with a shitty ex."

"Was that shitty ex Dae or another one?"

"Another one. I have a bad track record with men." You don't know the last time you actually dated a decent guy. Your last three relationships started out good, before they both crashed and burned.

"You’re too good for those men." He says confidently.

"I wish I believed that." You used to be so confident, but since Dae and you broke up he's seemed to break your confidence.

"You're beautiful, kind, and compassionate. I think that makes you too good for most men." He picks up his beer and stares at it for a moment. "Any man you choose to give any of your time to, should feel lucky."

"I'm really glad Jeonghan introduced us." Junhui feels like he's the missing piece in life.

"I think I definitely owe him."

You both sit there enjoying your food. You hear someone yell your name. You look over at the pool table to see Dae and some of his gang friends.

You must look like you've seen a ghost. Junhui glances at you and quickly looks over at Dae who is walking towards you. Your hand that is sitting on the table instant clenches.

Junhui reaches out grabbing your hand. You relax it as he holds your hand. He squeezes it once, gaining your attention.

"There's my girl." Dae says walking up.

"I'm not your girl." You say firmly.

"Who is this guy?" Dae turns his attention to Junhui.

Junhui narrows his eyes at him. "None of your business."

"I think it's my business who my girl is seeing." Dae tilts his head.

"She's not your property and she sure as hell isn't your girl."

Dae barks out a laugh. "You're just her new toy. Soon she'll get bored with you, and come running back to me."

"Fuck you, Dae."

"We both know it's true, baby."

"I think you should leave her alone." Junhui releases your hand and stands up.

"Or what?" Dae says, shoving his finger into Junhui's chest.

You look behind your ex to see his friends are paying attention to what is unfolding. You stand up and grab Junhui's hand. You're scared of what will happen if you don't leave now.

"Let's go." You tug on his hand.

"What's wrong lover boy are you going to let her boss you around."

"I think it’s for the best that I leave. Just know if you lay another finger on her, I will end you."

Junhui squeezes your hand as he leads you out of the bar. Neither of you say anything as he leads you back to his car.

He unlocks the door and helps you into your side. He gets in and silently starts driving. Your chest aches, realizing your ex possibly ruined everything you could have been building with Junhui.

You expect him to drive you back home, but are surprised when he takes you to his place.

"What's going on?" You finally ask.

"I don't want you home alone in an apartment where Dae can find you."

Heading upstairs to his place he walks up slowly behind you, almost as if he's protecting you.

Once inside you notice how quiet the place is. Minghao must still be out for the night.

"Let's head to my room."

You follow him down the small hallway. He opens the door and you both head inside. His room is cream colored with dark hardwood floors. His bed is a queen with dark grey sheets and a cream comforter. The floor is partially covered by a grey rug. There is a door that sits against the same wall as his bed. That leads to the ensuite bathroom.

"You can sleep in here tonight and I'll sleep in the living room."

You hate the idea of him giving up his bed to you. "We can share the bed. I don't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like to shower before we go to bed?"

"Please."

He shows you how to use the shower and tells you all his products in the shower can be used.

"I'll find you some clothes to sleep in."

"I'll close the curtain so you can just bring them in if you don't mind."

"Okay."

He leaves you alone in the bathroom. Pulling back the curtain and the sliding glass door you turn on the water giving it a moment to warm up. Stripping away your clothes, you try to fold them up neatly.

Stepping into the hot water you instantly start to relax. You just stand there letting the warm water washes the stress your ex caused.

The door opens and it takes everything in you not to peek through the curtain to him. "I got you a pair of shorts that are pretty comfortable and a baggy shirt."

"Thank you."

"I'll be on the other side of the door if you need me."

The door clicks shut signaling you're alone again. Looking on the corner shelf you find shampoo and conditioner. You're happy to see Junhui doesn't use two in one like some men. It looks like he has nice moisturizing shampoo and conditioner.

You take your time washing your hair, before using his citrus scented body wash. He always smells so fresh and clean and now you know why.

After you finish showering you work on fully drying yourself off and taming your hair.

Walking into his bedroom you find him laying on the top of the comforter in just a pair of sweat shorts. You already have a crush on him and the thought of him laying in bed with you, looking like that is enough to make you go crazy.

Crawling into bed you lay there staring at the ceiling. "Thank you for keeping me safe." You glance over at him.

"I promised you that I would protect you."

"I appreciate it. It's been really nice having you in my life."

"I'm glad we met." He says as he starts to crawl under the covers.

"Maybe we should get some sleep."

Closing your eyes you try to sleep. Anytime you get close to falling asleep, you keep having visions of the man lying next to you. Your dreams of him almost feel like déjà vu.

Your eyes slowly open. Laying on your side you stare at him. Since meeting Junhui you can't help but feel like your life is changing for the better. The problem is, you're terrified he's going to grow tired of you and all your baggage. What if he doesn’t like the sides of you that you desperately try to keep hidden?

His eyes flutter open. "What are you looking at?"

"You."

He reaches out, setting his hand right next to yours. The room feels incredibly small. It's taking everything not to reach out and touch him.

"Are you tired?" He asks.

"Yeah."

"You should get some sleep." He laces his fingers with yours. "Sweet dreams, bunny."

FIVE: KISS IT BETTER

Over the last week you find yourself constantly with Junhui if you aren't working. He's become a very important fixture in your life. Jeonghan and Mingyu have even started teasing you at work, about your crush on him. You don't even bother lying to yourself anymore. You're well aware you've fallen for the masked fighter.

The tension between the two of you is starting to be too much. Your days spent at his gym leave your yearning for the smallest touches. It's been too long since you've been intimate with someone, and the fact that you like him so much isn't helping. You feel touch starved. You would do anything just to hold his hand again.

It's another rainy day and you find yourself in Junhui's empty gym with him. Instead of boxing like you normally do, he's teaching you how to get out of a submission hold.

He’s hovering over you, with your hands pinned to the floor next to your head. You didn't make it easy on him trying to pin you down. You shift slightly trying to pull away.

"You can get out of this." He pushes your hands back down. Lifting your hips, you try to knock him off you. He shakes his head. "I'm not going to make it easy."

You know you have one chance if you can throw your leg hard enough to knock you both over. You take a deep breath before throwing your leg.

Jun releases you, tumbling off you. Pushing yourself off the ground, you make quick work of crawling on top of him. You sit on his lap. There is absolutely no way you can keep him pinned down, but you wanted to prove to him, you could get out of his hold.

Grabbing his hands you pin them next to his head, just like he did to you. He looks up at you giving you a wicked grin.

"That's impressive."

You release his hands knowing he'll pin you again to prove a point if you don't wave the white flag.

One of your hands rests over his chest. You can feel his heart beating below. He lifts his head slightly.

"Do you like the view?" You give him a smile.

"The view is great."

You lean down slightly. God, up close like this he's so damn beautiful. He pushes himself up so you're still sitting on his lap but his face is close to yours.

Silently he pushes your hair out of your face. His hand rests on your cheek. "You're so pretty. The view from here is even better."

Leaning in close you test the water. Resting your nose against his. Your lips part as you take a deep breath.

"I'm going to kiss you." He whispers.

The moment your lips touch for the first time, you feel alive. Kissing him is everything you've dreamed of. One of his hands stays on your cheek while the other rests on your hip, holding you close to him.

Pulling back you can't help but smile. "That was nice."

He gives you the cutest crooked smile. Leaning back in you crash your lips into his. One of his hands roams your back. Your lips move together in perfect sync. He runs his tongue across the seam of your lips. Opening your mouth he slides his tongues against yours.

His hand rests on your butt, squeezing it he pulls your body closer to his. You're making out on the floor of his gym, like a couple of horny teenagers.

Tangling your fingers in his hair you hold him close to you.

"I like you." You whisper against his lips.

"Fuck—" He moans.

You have no concept of time as you kiss him like your life depends on it. It could be five minutes or even an eternity.

Pulling away you both need a minute to catch your breath. He rests his large hand on your cheek. He drags his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Where have you been all my life?" You sigh.

"Waiting for you."

SIX: LITTLE SECRETS YOU CANT TELL

You hate nights like this when neither Jeonghan or Mingyu are at work with you. Your rent is due, and the only way to avoid being absolutely broke for a few weeks, is getting up on stage. Normally it would be fine if you knew the boys were here as a safety net.

Just knowing you’re alone always leaves you feeling unsettled.

Looking in the mirror you work on reapplying the makeup you caked on when you know you're going on stage. A couple of the dancers sitting on the other side of the mirror are talking about some work gossip. Since you started dancing here you try your hardest to stay out of drama. You have enough going on in your life. The last thing you need is for people at work to be involved in your life.

This is the final half hour of your night. You just need to do one more dance and you're able to go home, with plenty of money.

"____ you're up next." The DJ pops into the back and shouts.

You walk out to the stage. You take a slow deep breath as the music starts to play. The guitar intro to "Kiss It Better" by Rhianna plays you in.

Walking on the stage the bright lights are blinding. You hand grips the pole as you spin around.

As the song goes on you start shedding what little clothes you're wearing. The song comes to a close and you're left standing on stage fully naked. Walking off stage in your sky high heels you wrap a robe around you tightly.

You walk into the back room and immediately grab your toiletry bag. You head into the wash room and work on washing away the stage make up that's caked onto your face. You have no problem with Junhui seeing you barefaced, but you don't want to see him in full stage makeup.

Heading back to your locker you're greeted by one of the managers handing you your tips from the last dance. You pull out some for the djs and bartender and then shove it into the pouch you keep in your bag.

"Are you heading out?" Your manager asks.

"Yeah."

"Have a good night."

Reaching into your back you pull out a pair of joggers and sweater. You get dressed in your warm and cozy clothes quickly. Grabbing your phone from your bag you see a text from Junhui. It reads "be outside in five minutes."

You gather your purse and make sure you have your money bag. You shove the rest of your dancing stuff in your locker. You make your way quickly through the club hoping to get to Junhui.

Walking outside into the cool night air you see him parked close to the entrance. You jog to his car and quickly get in.

Sitting your bag on the floorboard you turn and give him a smile. "Thank you for picking me up."

"How was work?" He asks. Your stomach twists in knots. You hate talking about your job. You don't want to lie to him, but you can't bring yourself to tell him that tonight was one of those nights you took your clothes off on stage.

"Fine." You know you probably sound short with your answer but you can't help it.

"What happened?" He raises his brow, clearly confused by your tone.

"It's just work."

"Did you want to talk about it?"

"Can we please not?" You can't do this tonight. You aren't ready for things to blow up between you.

"We don't have to talk about it." He leans over and presses his lips to your cheek for a gentle kiss.

"I know it's late, but did you want to stay at my place tonight? The guys are over hanging out and they asked if you would join us." This isn't the first time he's asked you to stay over since your first kiss. You've stayed over enough that Junhui has gotten toiletries of things you use in his bathroom. Your sleepovers are quite innocent outside of some kissing. You both just like the intimacy of sharing a bed and cuddling.

In the process of getting close to Junhui, you've also grown close with his three best friends.

"Is there possibly food there? I'm starving."

He holds his hand out. Without thinking twice you lace your fingers with his. He lifts his hand and kisses the top of your hand.

"Chan brought pizza over."

"Perfect."

The drive to Junhui's place isn't too long. He parks and turns the car off. He doesn't move to get out and neither do you. He turns towards you and gives you a look. You unbuckle your seatbelt and practically launch yourself at him. You move so you're sitting on his lap, with the steering wheel against your back. Your fingers are tangled in his hair as your lips move together. Since your first kiss you shared at the gym, it's not uncommon for you and him to make out like a couple of horny teenagers. His hands roam your back. His hand dips below the back of your sweats. His finger toy with the back of your thong because he grabs the fleshy cheek of your ass. You realize he's definitely an ass man. Whenever you're on top of him he's constantly grabbing your butt.

"Fuck—" he moans against your lips. "I'm going to get hard if we don't stop."

"Is that a problem?" You tease him, pulling back.

"Yeah. Our first time shouldn't be in my car. We should take things slower." You've never had a man want to take things slow like this. But you have no problem waiting. You know when you finally have sex it will be intense, just like everything is with him.

After your intense makeout session in the car you find yourself in the living room of Junhui and Minghao's apartment. It's two in the morning but none of the guys seem to be tired. Soonyoung is sitting on the floor next to Chan. They have been talking about some huge fight with some man named Johnny.

"Dude, Johnny is in Sung's gang. Last time I checked Sung is still pissed he lost money when you beat him." Soonyoung says. If you remember correctly, Sung was the first man you saw Junhui fight.

"Is fighting Johnny a good idea?" Minghao asks.

"No." Chan chimes in.

"The money would be crazy though." Soonyoung responds.

Junhui isn't saying anything. He's just silently sitting on the couch next to you.

"Jun you don't have to do it." Minghao says.

"If I don't fight him, Sung is just going to be more pissed."

"Dude Johnny is huge. He knocked out Bronx and broke his arm." Chan says.

Everything they're all saying is making you extremely uneasy. You look over at Junhui, unable really read his emotions.

"What is the payout?" Junhui asks.

"Double the Sung fight." Minghao says.

"I'll do it." The moment he agrees you suddenly want to cry. You push yourself off the couch.

You don't say anything as you walk off to Junhui's room. You don't want to make a scene begging him not to fight. You clearly have something going on with Junhui but you definitely aren't his girlfriend.

You head off to the bathroom to brush your teeth and to start getting ready for bed. You go about your business brushing your teeth and changing into the oversized shirt and shorts Junhui keeps in the top drawer for you.

You walk out of the bathroom and find Junhui sitting on the bed waiting for you.

"You're clearly upset."

You stop in front of him and stand between his spread legs. "I'm worried."

"I can count on one hand how many fights I've lost." He rests his hand on your thigh.

"If you're going to do this fight I want to be there."

He shakes his head, leaning back away from you. "It could get ugly, and I don't want you to see it."

Closing your eyes you take a deep. How could you possibly explain to him that you care so much about him that you'll be worried sick about him?

"I need to be there. I can't just go to work or sit at home and pretend everything is okay." You crawl on to his lap. "I'm begging you, please."

Reaching up he holds your face with both hands. "You need to bring Jeonghan or Mingyu with you."

He leans up, pressing his lips to yours. You don't realize but he cares about you so much, that he can't stand the idea of you being upset with him.

"You can go back out with the boys if you want." You feel guilty he left his friends because you got upset.

"They're just drinking and hanging out. I don't want to do that. I want to lay in bed and hold you."

Crawling off of him, you shimmy out of your shorts you're wearing. You're standing there in just a little thong and an oversized shirt.

"I think you're trying to make me hard." He groans laying down flat.

"It's more comfortable to sleep this way." You flash him a faux innocent smile.

He lets out a heavy sigh before sitting up. "Should I sleep naked?"

"I would prefer you did." You tease him crawling into the side of your bed you find yourself always sleeping on.

He heads off to the bathroom leaving you alone for about five minutes. He comes back dressed only in a pair of tight boxer-briefs that leave little to the imagination.

He crawls into bed next to you. Reaching over he turns off the light. He pulls you close to him. Your head is resting on this chest and he has your leg pulled on top of his stomach. You're as physically close as you can be.

You never feel as relaxed as you are in his arms. It doesn't take long until you're sound asleep curled up against him.

SEVEN: EVERYTHING WAS MIDNIGHT RAIN

It’s hard to watch the fight unfolding in front of you. Jeonghan holds your hand tightly. Johnny is bigger than Junhui and his hits are landing hard. He throws a head right hook to Junhui's jaw. He stumbles back, spitting out blood.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can’t watch this. The crowd erupts screaming. Opening your eyes just a little you see Johnny on the floor. Junhui is on top of him throwing punches.

Johnny gets a firm kick in, getting Junhui off of him. Junhui stumbles back. Johnny is throwing punches, and kicks nonstop. Junhui is able to block most of them. Johnny gets another firm hit in, splitting open Junhui eyebrow.

Burying yourself into Jeonghan’s side, you squeeze your eyes shut. You care about the man in the mask too much to watch him get this hurt.

“Keep your eyes closed.” Jeonghan says.

You try to block out everything. The cheers get louder, and you hear the noises both the fighters are making. The crowd groans and suddenly erupts.

Pulling away from Jeonghan slowly you find Johnny knocked out on the concrete and Junhui standing tall. Blood is dripping from his eyebrow down his face. Lifting his hand he wipes away the blood. His eyes stay locked on yours.

Your chest aches staring at him. He’s staring at you in the room filled to the brim with people cheering, like it's only you two. The vice grip on your heart, leaves you stuck standing there.

Hao and Soonyoung rush over to Junhui. Soonyoung is working on checking on him while the man running the show hands Minghao a duffel bag. Junhui and the boys walk towards the back. The moment they’re close to you and Jeonghan, Junhui grabs your hand. Lacing his fingers with yours, he squeezes your hand.

Once in the back, Jeonghan locks the door. Junhui takes off his mask. You instantly notice his lip is busted open. You want to work on cleaning him up, but before you can, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

You can feel the eyes of the other three boys burning into you. Closing your eyes, you lean into him. Wrapping your arms around him tightly. You don’t ever want to see him in another fight like that.

“I’m sorry, you had to see that.” He says just loud enough for you to hear.

“I can’t see you get hurt like that again.” Tears brim your eyes. You can’t help but cry. Sniffling back tears, you try to keep yourself together.

He pulls away slowly. He stares at you for a short second. Reaching up he rests his hand on your cheek. His thumb drags across your cheek, pushing away your tears.

“I should get looked at.”

Stepping back, you nod. “Yea. Soonyoung needs to clean up your wounds and doctor you.”

Junhui slowly walks over towards the boy. You stand locked in the same place Junhui left you. Jeonghan walks in over to you. Your eyes are locked on the man you’ve grown to care for, as his friends are inspecting his injuries.

Jeonghan stands next to you. He nudges your side, catching your “Do you love him?” He asks, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I think so. I think there is something in the universe that pulled us to each other. Before him, there was a part of me that always felt like it was missing. He makes me feel whole.”

“It seems like he loves you.”

“I’m bad luck, and I’m so scared he's going to get hurt because of me.”

“He won’t get hurt because of you. Let him protect you, and take care of you.” Jeonghan nudges your side again.

You finally look away from Junhui. “What if he doesn’t like who I am? What if he finds out about my job, and it’s too much for him?” Everything you’ve done at work that you’re not proud of, was so you could survive. You never planned on taking your clothes off for money, but sometimes you have to so you can survive.

“He’s not going to judge you. I know him, he’s a really good guy and he cares about you. He’s not going to care that you strip every so often.”

Junhui slowly stands up. Minghao hands him another mask. As soon as you all walk out of the back door, you don’t want people to fully see his face.

He puts on the mask and glances over at you. He walks over to you and laces his fingers with yours. Being close to him feels natural.

Walking out of the crowded warehouse. Soonyoung helps clear a path. Stopping at the entrance you see it’s now raining.

“Can I come to your place, to take care of you?” You don’t want to be alone tonight. You’re just going to stay awake all night worrying about him.

“Yeah of course.”

Jeonghan and Soonyoung say goodnight, before running to their cars. Junhui leads you through the rain towards Minghao’s car.

The ride to the boy’s apartment wasn’t too long. Minghao walks behind as Junhui slowly makes his way upstairs. Once inside, Junhui heads off to his room. Before you can follow, Minghao grabs your wrist stopping you.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“He doesn’t do this with other women. I know you seem kind of guarded, and I want you to know he’s not some player or something. He’s pretty guarded himself, and only let you in because he cares about you.”

“I care about him too.”

“I know.” Minghao releases your wrist. “Take care of him tonight.”

“I will.”

You head off towards Junhui’s room. Slowly pushing the door open. He’s nowhere to be seen. You look by his hamper and find his clothes he was just wearing. The door that leads to the bathroom is cracked, and you can hear the water running.

Pushing the door open you see the curtain is pulled shut. “Jun?”

“Yeah, bunny?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, you can join me if you would like.”

Walking in you shut the door fully. Without even thinking you start stripping away your clothes. Being naked in front of people isn't anything new for you, but the idea of him seeing you naked for the first time feels intimate.

Pulling back the curtain, you slide the door open. You step into the shower carefully. Your eyes instantly lock onto his beautiful body that is drenched. His ribs are already painted with water colored bruises, blooming on his skin. His lip is slowly healing. He turns around letting the water rinse away his shampoo.

You could spend hours admiring all the details of his beautiful body. Your eyes can’t help but wander down to his large cock, which is resting between his legs.

“You’re beautiful.” You say.

He gives you a gentle smile. “You’re breathtaking.”

He steps out from the water and holds his hand out. You reach out, taking his hand. Stepping under the hot water, your body instantly starts to relax.

“You know we’ve only ever kissed and now I’m naked in the shower with you.” You try to make light of the situation.

“I’m sorry.” He leans in close, while the water is pouring down on both of you.

“Don’t be sorry.” You want anything and everything this man will possibly give you.

His large hand rests on your cheek. He leans in even closer so his nose is bumping yours. His lips just barely brush yours as he takes a deep breath. Your lips part, as you’re dying to say something. Silent pleads sit on your tongue.

“Jun—“

“Let me take a moment to enjoy this.”

“Kiss me or I might drop dead.”

The softest laugh passes his lips. Everything melts away as his lips crash into yours. Your fingers tangle in his wet hair, holding him close to you.

He pulls back slightly, just giving you each a moment to breathe.

“Are you hurting?” You know he’s in pain after that terrible fight.

“A little but, I want to be close to you. I want to kiss you, just like I do in every lifetime.”

“Lifetime?” You have no clue what he’s talking about.

“I was made in every lifetime for you.” He rambles before crashing his lips into yours again.

He moves your both, so your back is pressed up against the cold white tile. Your lips move together like you need each other to breathe. Junhui is the air in your oxygen deprived lungs. He moves from kissing your lips, across your jaw, and down your delicate neck.

Echoing moans pass your lips as he finds the sensitive spot on the side of your neck. “Jun—“

He kisses the tops of each of your breasts. Mindlessly reach between your two bodies. You find his hardening cock against your stomach.

“Can I?” You ask.

“Please.”

His lips travel back to yours. The way your lips move together is intoxicating. You focus on pumping his length at a steady pace. He groans into mouth as you continue to kiss. One of his hands is on your breast, squeezing it. His thumb teases your nipple, reaching moans from you.

“Fuck—“ he whispers against your lips.

“You feel good.” You whisper.

“I’m going to cum.” You take this as your sign to pick up the pace.

His nose rests against yours. His lips part, and soft moans and groans pour out. His breathing is heavy, and his eyes closed.

“Fuck—“ He paints your hand and stomach with his milky white release.

You pull back and smile at the sight of him. He looks heavenly in his post orgasmic bliss.

You step back under the water rinsing off your hand and stomach. Junhui moves so he’s leaning against the wall. His eyes slowly open, he looks at you in a haze.

“Baby, come here.” He reaches for you. “Let me take care of you.”

“Later, right now I’m taking care of you.”

He steps back towards the water again. He presses his lips to yours for a gentle kiss. “I can make you cum.”

“You don’t need to. Let’s finish up and go to bed.”

Getting out of the shower you both take your time drying off. Neither of you bother putting on clothes. You crawl into his bed. You’re laying on your side with Junhui curled up behind you, holding you close. Nothing is said as he presses kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Jun?”

“Yeah, baby?” You love when he calls you baby.

“What do you mean, you were made for me in every lifetime?” You aren’t sure if he was just rambling on if what he said actually meant something.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Jun, I feel things for you I can’t explain. I don’t think you’ll say anything I think is crazy.”

“I’ve lived so many lifetimes , they all just feel like recurring dreams.” He pauses for a moment. “But in every single lifetime, I have you. We’ve had many different names, but in every single one we look the same. I find you in every single one of those lives, and I always love you. In every life I protect, I'm the protector Bes, and in every lifetime I protect you.” You should run away and tell him he’s crazy, but you know deep down this is true. You’ve had dreams of him, long before you met him. You know deep down inside you’ve lived many life times together.

“I believe you.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “That’s why we’re drawn to each other.”

“It makes sense.” You let out a yawn. It’s been a long day and you can barely hold your eyes open.

“Let’s get some sleep.” He says softly.

It doesn’t take long before you both fall asleep curled up with the echoing sounds of the rain outside.

EIGHT: ALL THE PAIN AND FEAR

Nights like this are the worst. You went into work telling yourself you would just work as a waitress. That the tips and pay from that alone would get you in the clear for a few weeks. You didn't expect your boss to ask if you wanted to get on stage.

Sitting in the back Jeonghan comes over and sits down next to you. He places soda down in front of you.

Glancing up at him, you find him giving you a sympathetic smile.

"You don't have to get up there if you don't want to."

"I know. I'm worried about what Jun will think." Before him you didn't really worry about what someone would think about you getting on that stage.

"I promise you, he won't care."

"What if he looks at me differently?" You grab the lemon lime soda he placed in front of you.

"Neither me or Mingyu looked at you differently when you started doing it. Jun won't care. You just need to be honest with him."

A heavy sigh passes your lips. You bring the ice cold glass to your lips and take a drink or the crisp soda.

"If you don't want to do it, you can always say no. Woojin is an asshole but I doubt he would make you get on stage if you don't want to."

Jeonghan stands up and pats your back. "Whatever you want to do I support you."

You finish drinking your soda and decide you're just going to do it. You've never felt shameful for being a stripper and you know deep down inside Junhui won't care.

One dance that's all you'll do, and then you'll be a waitress the rest of the night.

Heading off to the room the dancer get ready in, you go to your locker where you store things for nights like tonight.

You're dressed in a tiny white lace set that leaves little to the imagination. Putting on your heels you go over to the DJ and let him know what song you want him to play.

Standing on the side stage you take slow deep breaths trying to calm down. The beat to the song "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys starts to play. The DJ says your stage name as you walk onto the stage.

Being on stage feels like a blur. Leaning against the cold pole you sway your body to the beat of the music. Reaching for the front clasps on your bra, you disconnect it and let the white lace fall to the floor.

Looking around you just see the bright light and the money hitting the stage.

Grabbing the pole, you walk around it just dressed in your tiny white thong. Stepping out of it, you leave yourself standing there fully naked. You dance around a little as the song comes to a close. Walking off the stage you grab a robe that you left on the hook.

Tying the robe up you walk back to the dancers room. You don't want to sit back here and think about what just happened. You just quickly put on a tiny white dress, not bothering to wear a bra and another thong. You know you could make more money in tips if you're dressed like this. You switch to a pair of chunk white boots that have a heel and a platform that are comfortable.

Walking back onto the floor you let your manager know you're going to wait tables. You see your first table and head over to the bar where Jeonghan is.

"How are you feeling?" He asks as he starts making your drinks for table seven.

"Fine. I just made my rent on stage."

"You don't sound fine." He responds as he cleans a glass.

"Jun is fighting tonight and I'm always on edge when I'm not there to make sure he's safe."

"That's understandable. Did you want me to drop you off at Jun's tonight?" He sets the glass down on the counter.

"Yes please."

You go back to taking drink orders and waiting tables. You've got maybe two hours left at work and instead of fully waiting tables, you're running out drinks for Jeonghan.

You're on the far side of the club, out of view of Jeonghan or Mingyu. You've just brought a large tray of shots to a group of men dressed in suits.

Turning around you feel sick instantly. Dae locks eyes on you immediately. He finds you walking around near the stage. You look around hoping Mingyu will show up. Jeonghan has a swarm of people at the bar, so he definitely can't see you.

"Leave me alone." You say firmly as he approaches.

"Baby, don't be like that." He walks up.

Holding your arm out you keep a distance from him. "I'm just trying to talk to you without your little masked fighter being your body guard."

You take a big step back. "Leave!"

"Why won't you talk to me anymore?" He takes another step closer.

"We're broken up. We have been for eight months. Just leave me alone."

He barks out a laugh. "Does your little fighter Bes know about you getting up on that stage?"

You don't respond, you just stare at him.

"I'm shocked you're here and not watching your new man's fight tonight. I heard Sung wants revenge." You've heard Minghao and Soonyoung talk about Sung. He's the first guy you ever saw Junhui fight. He's a big strong guy with ties to Dae's gang.

"Shut up."

"I wonder if Sung and everyone else knows that your sweet Junhui is good at fighting." The moment he mentions Junhui’s name, ice runs through your veins.

Without thinking you shove him away from you. "Shut the fuck up, you don't know what you're talking about."

He lets out another laugh. "Oh it seems I've hit a nerve."

Before anything else can be said Jeonghan and Mingyu are here. Mingyu grips the back of Dae's shirt, pulling him away from you.

"What your little fighter can't help you, you still need Jeonghan and this goon." He pushes his elbow back towards Mingyu.

Jeonghan pulls you back a little. Dae rolls his eyes and laughs. "I think your boy Junhui should be worried that you're fucking Jeonghan." You and Jeonghan have never done anything sexual together. Dae has always and will always be jealous of your friendship with him.

Mingyu tightens his grip pulling him back more. "Dude, shut the fuck up. You have no clue what you're talking about."

"I hope you said goodbye to your man before you came to work."

"What?"

"Turns out Sung and the boys brought a gun to the fight. It looks like no one is a fan of the masked fighter, Bes." Your stomach instantly drops.

Dae lifts his wrist looking at the time. "I would say things have probably already kicked off. Maybe if you leave now you can say goodbye."

Bile crawls up your throat. The room feels like it's spinning. Stepping forward you slap Dae.

"Good luck, baby." He laughs.

Mingyu pulls him into a chokehold pulling him back.

Without thinking Jeonghan grabs your hand. He drags you through the crowded club. He stops at the bar where your manager Woojin is. He says you're having an emergency. Hand in hand you sprint out of the club together. The concrete is wet from the rain that just ended.

Jeonghan drags you to his car. You both hop in and he drives, breaking too many laws, to get you to the warehouse quickly.

Parking, you hop out and see chaos is already unfolding. Jeonghan looks around frantically.

The sound of the gun shot ringing out echoed outside.

"Fuck." Jeonghan says.

Immediately people start sprinting outside. Another gun shot rings out. Then everything suddenly starts happening too quickly. Jeonghan runs towards the door and luckily sees no one has been shot.

You see Minghao looking terrified with blood on his hands. You sprint towards him.

"What happened?"

With wild eyes Minghao grabs your shoulder. "One of Sung's guys shot Chan."

"How bad is it?"

"It grazed him."

Another group of people rush out. You look inside to see Junhui has Sung pinned to the ground with Soonyoung helping. Jeonghan rushes inside to help Chan.

You follow Minghao inside, you desperately want to get to Junhui.

"Oh my god." Your voice immediately catches Junhui's attention.

You look at Sung and see he's definitely been knocked unconscious. Junhui jumps up and pulls you into his chest. He wants to kiss you so bad, but you both know he needs to keep his mask on.

"We need to get Chan out of here." Jeonghan says.

Chan lets out a groan as Jeonghan and Minghao help him stand up.

Soonyoung stands up and follows behind everyone as you head outside. The boys take Chan towards Jeonghan's car that's parked in the alley behind the warehouse.

Junhui stops and pulls you into another hug. When the first gun shot rang out he was terrified he would never see you again.

You walk towards the alley with him holding your hand. As you get to the entrance you see an expensive looking mustang driving toward you.

Everything moves in slow motion as the head lights get closer and closer.

Junhui moves your body like a force of nature. He shoves you hard and quick, getting you out of the way of the car bearing towards you. You hit the concrete wall with a thud.

He throws himself the other way attempting to save himself. You're just far enough away from the boys that they can't see what is happening.

Everything aches as you hit the hard concrete. Closing your eyes, you feel disoriented.

The car speeds off after clearly missing their target.

“Baby,” he shouts, pushing himself off the cold concrete. His attempts to save you from the car, left him on the cold hard ground. His heart sinks, seeing you laying on the wet asphalt. God he hopes he didn't hurt you, trying to save you.

Frantically he runs to you, praying to any god that you're okay. Being thrown against the wall, left your ears ringing. You held your ears feeling dazed. Slowly you sit up groaning in pain from the impact. He pulls up to your feet and presses you against the brick wall, his hands reached up to hold your face. His eyes are wild as he studies you.

Opening your mouth to speak nothing comes out as you stare at him. His breathing is rough just like yours. The car that tried to hit you, is long gone. You know exactly why they tried to run you off the road.

He releases your face, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. He's still wearing his gear from the fight. His face is still partially covered by his mask.

Glove covered hands roam your soft body. No one’s touch had ever felt quite like this. It wasn’t soft by any means but it was sensual without trying. With your body pressed against the cold brick wall you mind drifts to places it shouldn’t go. Junhui has never touched you like this. He's touching you as if he's trying to make sure you're real.

All that could be heard was heavy breathing between the two of you and the sound of passing cars below.

Your breathing is shallow as you’re focused on Junhui’s eyes.

You're in an alley in the dark side of the city. You had left work in a hurry dressed in nothing but a tiny dress and he was in his outfit he fought in.

It felt wrong because of what had just happened, but you had never been so turned on in your life.

“Jun—,” as you went to speak, he places his hand over mouth, silencing you.

Leaning forward with his lips brushing your ear he whispers, "you can’t say my name out loud right now.”

Slowly he removes his hand.“Okay.”

“Are you okay,” his hands went from your mouth to gently gliding down your throat.

“I’m fine. Maybe a little bruised up,” reaching out you rest your hand on his chest.

“Your pulse is racing,” he rasps.

“I’m on edge.” You're absolutely rattled, after someone clearly tried to kill you, by running you over.

“We need to get you back to my place,” he reaches down and takes your hand.

“What about my place?” Your apartment is way closer and you don't know if you could make it to his place.

“We can go there,” his hand rests in the crook of your neck.

Holding your hand he leads you into the alley where the boys are standing by their cars looking at Chan's wound. It looks like the bullet grazed his arm. They had no clue what just happened.

"We need to go to the hospital." Soonyoung says.

"You guys take Chan, I'm going to take the car and get bunny home safe."

Jeonghan puts his hand on his shoulder. "Please take care of her."

NINE: I BEG FOR YOU, AND EVERYTHING WE COULD BE

You're about ten minutes away from your apartment. He parks his car and leans over and presses his lips to your cheek for a soft kiss.

"In case Dae has people waiting for you outside, maybe we should take the fire escape."

"Good idea."

Arriving at the bottom of your apartment where the fire escape is, leads up to your second story apartment. You climb up the ladder well aware you're barely covered by your dress and tiny thong you're wearing underneath it. You left work in a rush and didn't have time to change into anything else. You're basically in nothing but a skin tight dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Luckily Junhui is a gentleman and wouldn't intentionally try to get an eyeful as you climbed up the ladder.

Climbing through the window into your apartment you help Junhui crawl in behind you. You shut the window quickly and lock it. You proceed to pull the blinds closed and turn to Junhui who's standing by your couch taking deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” You asks, walking towards him quickly.

He reaches up and slowly removed his mask. His black eye already coming in and his cheek is split.

Wide eyes lock on him as he works on taking his outfit off slowly. Low groans pass his lips as he works to strip away his clothes. He had taken quite a beating, tonight was clearly a set up. Sung had every intention of killing Junhui and taking you out after. Dae clearly knew what to say to get you to rush to Junhui. His hands grips the back of the couch as he walks around to sit down.

“I’m going to get my first aid kit.” You say.

The gash on his chest is pretty deep and you know you need to clean it. You hurry off to your bathroom and grab the first aid kit that's under the sink. Walking back into the living room you remove your shoes and walk over, sitting on the couch next to Junhui. His eyes are closed as he takes deep breaths.

“I thought you were dead,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to worry about me." He groans.

“It’s a little hard when I hear that you’ve been shot at the warehouse.”

With a peroxide cover cotton ball you gently cleaned the gash on his chest. His eyes are still closed tight as he groans. Gently you clean his wound, you're trying your hardest to make sure you don't hurt him anymore then he already is.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whisper, pulling away the cotton pad from his skin.

His black eyes open and a crooked smile formed on his beautiful face, “I don’t think you realize I will literally do anything to keep you safe.”

You go to move your hand away, and he reaches out, grabbing your wrist. His thumb gently rubs the underside, where your skin is more sensitive. Your eyes stay locked on him, as he touches you gently. You want to tell Junhui how much he means to you, but your brain doesn't seem to know what to say. Reaching up he takes the blood soaked cotton pad from your hand and placed it on top of the coffee table. He releases your wrist. He reaches down and places his hands on your soft hips. He moves your body as if you weighed nothing, and tugs you onto his lap. He's dressed in nothing but a pair of black boxer-briefs as you straddle his thighs. You're only wearing a thin small dress that doesn't cover your body very much. You look like a stripper. The amount of make up that's cake on your skin doesn't help the look. His thumb rubs your hip, as the other hand rests on the side of your neck. His lips part as he takes slow breaths. One of your hands rests on his cheek while the other rests on your own thigh, holding down the short dress.

You lean forward resting your nose against his. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest and you know Junhui is aware of that.

“I love the way you smell, your skin always has this soft scent of vanilla,” he inhales.

Taking a slow breath you smile with your nose still resting against his.

His hand that's been resting on your hip crawls up your soft stomach, resting on the underside of your breast. His thumb grazed against the fabric of where your bra would have been if you were wearing one. Pulling his face away from you, he leans his head back and takes a breath. You could feel that he's growing harder beneath you.

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” He rasps leaning his head back up.

“Let’s not talk about that,” you whisper, praying that you weren’t going to have this conversation. He doesn't need to know that you get more money from tips if you aren't wearing one, or if you wear just a thin bralette.

"You don’t have to keep all these walls up around me." He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "I meant it when I told you, I want you. I don't care about your past, or the part that you think you need to hide. I want to be with you and to protect you." He leaves out the part where he wants to tell you, that in every lifetime he's loved you, and in every lifetime he's had to protect you from evil.

“There’s some things I don’t want you to know about me,” you whisper.

“Okay.”

You know it isn't okay, but he isn't going to press you for more information.

“I was so worried about you, I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt,” his voice is shaky.

“I’m okay Jun." Your lips are so close to his.

He must have read your mind, because he leans forward and connects his lips to your. His hand is still resting on your neck. You move your hand from your thigh and rests it on his cheek. Instinctively you roll your hips as your lips move together.

His lips move from your mouth, and he slowly start to kiss his way down your jaw. Holding your eyes close you take in his touch. His hand that's resting on your neck moves to the thin spaghetti strap of your dress.

With his lips ghosting your skin he asks, “can I?”

“Yes,” your tone is needy.

His hand that's resting on the underside of your breast moves up as he pushes down both the straps on your dress. He pushes the fabric down your skin, leaving you completely bare from the waist up. You stare at him, wide eyed as his calloused hands move up to massage your breast. His fingers rolled your nipples. Your lips are parted as you take deep a breath enjoying the feeling of his touch.

“Is this alright?” He asks.

“Yes it is,” you try to keep your tone even.

“I won't let anything like tonight ever happen again,” he leans forward and presses his lips to the side of your mouth.

His lips move against yours, as you slowly roll your hips against his growing length. Your lips move together, as if you need each other to breathe. If someone told Junhui he couldn't exist without you, he wouldn't even second guess them. Kissing you is like a breath of fresh air. You're oxygen in his air deprived lungs. Your hands move up resting on his chest. With his lips ghosting yours he whispers, "I need you.”

“Jun." You hold his face in your hands and pull away from him. "I'm so scared I'll ruin things between us. I'm bad luck, everything always falls apart because of me. I don't want to say something that will ruin things between us."

“Nothing you say will ruin anything between us. I want you, I don't mean I just want to have sex with you. I want to be the person you can lean on. I want to be the person who can take care of you. Baby just let me in." He's never sounded this desperate speaking to you before.

“Junhui I’m begging you just drop it right now,” your own voice is desperate.

“Okay.”

Your lips crash against his as your hips roll against his. Your hands move to the bottom of your dress and push it up so it's resting above your hips. Leaving you practically bare below, except for your tiny white thong. You lift your hips slightly, and pull your thong to the side.

"Please touch me."

His lips move to your neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle nips. His lips ghosts your skin and he whispers, "Are you wet for me?"

“Yes,” you rasps as his finger slide into your core.

You gasped as his fingers did slow circles on your sensitive nub. His lips never left your neck. His touch sent a shiver down your spine in the best way possible.

“I need more,” you moan.

Junhui removes his hands from your core. “Sit up a little bit,” he rasps, removing his lips from your skin.

You sit up as he pushes his boxers down his thighs enough to free his erection. Your eyes stayed locked in his face. He has a look of concentration playing across it. His hands grip your soft thigh bringing you back to a resting position on his thighs.

You sit up just enough to line yourself up with his cock. Slowly you sink down on to his length, gasping as you bottom out. Your hands rests on his chest. You stay still for a moment adjusting to his size. You haven't had sex in a while and your body is tense.

His hand rises up to rest gently on your throat, never in your life have you wanted someone to place even the slightest amount of pressure there. Leaning forward you rest your nose against his. Your breathing is uneven. His eyes are closed as his hand still rests on your throat, his thumb gently glides across your skin. All the oxygen seems to be sucked out of the room, and you need each other to breathe. Your ears are still ringing from being thrown against the wall. In this moment the only thing you can hear is yours and Junhui’s breathing.

Slowly your hips moved up. You start to move slowly up and down his length. The only other sounds passing your lips are pants and soft moans. You have never had sex in your life, that feels nearly as intimate as what is unfolding between you and Junhui. Your hands grip his shoulders as you continue to ride him. He's touching anywhere he possibly can, his hand travels from your throat down to your soft hips. He helps guide you as he moves you up and down his length.

The coil in your stomach tightens, with each drag of his cock. His length curves just the right way. With each thrust he touches that spongy spot inside of you, that has you seeing stars.

Gasping you lean forward, resting your head against his shoulder. Your lips gently nip at his shoulder. You know you're probably going to leave a mark reminding you both of what had happened between you on your couch.

With each thrust your stomach tightens. Leaning up you press your lips to his for a hungry kiss. He knows you're close by, your needy whimpers. Reaching between you, he toys with your sensitive clit.

With your lips ghosting his you moan his name, as he pushes you over the edge. Your walls flutter around his length; it didn't take too long for him to hit his high and spill inside you. Your body stops moving, you stay completely still sitting on his lap. Your forehead is resting against his as you both your breathing is uneven. His hand moves up, gently resting on your cheek. He places a wet kiss on your lips.

“You should probably take a shower." Your voice is shaky. He pulls away from you slowly.

“Will you join me?” He asks.

“Of course.”

You slowly crawl off his lap with wobbly legs and take his hands as he stands up. You lead him down towards the bathroom door that was next to your bedroom door.

TEN: FATED LOVERS

Laying in bed, your head rests on Junhui’s chest. His calloused hand rubs your back slowly. It was almost five in the morning and neither of you had been able to sleep at all. Your eyes were closed as you tried to take in his closeness. Not even two hours ago you thought Junhui was dead and now you were in bed naked with him.

"Can you promise me, I won't scare you off if I let my walls down?"

"Nothing you say could scare me." He leans down pressing his lips to the top of your head.

"I'm not just a waitress—" you pause. Outside of Jeonghan and Mingyu you don't really share the other side with people. "I also am a stripper when money is tight."

"Baby, that's fine. I fight people for money. You got to do what you got to do to survive."

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you."

"Baby, it's okay. That doesn't change the fact that I love you." These final three words make your chest feel as if it's being squeezed.

"I love you too." You don't think you have ever loved anyone like you love him.

"I'm never going to let anything like tonight ever happen again."

"Okay."

"We should get some sleep."

"Yeah. Can you stay here when we wake up?"

He nods his head. "Of course."

Before long you both fall asleep. You dream of each other just like you always do. It's almost noon when you both wake up.

You take your time making you both lunch as Junhui sits at the table watching you move around the kitchen. Finding you in every lifetime gives his life meaning. Now that he's found you can't wait to spend the rest of this life with you.

After lunch Soonyoung calls and lets you both know that Chan is fine and he's home safe. Luckily the bullet just grazed him. He also informs you that Sung and a bunch of his gang were arrested. You aren't sure if Dae was arrested but you hope he was.

When nightfall comes around you and Junhui pack you an overnight bag and you head back to his place.

Junhui says now that he has you, he can't bear to sleep alone.

Standing in his shower he's taking his time scrubbing shampoo into your hair. He's using this time to take care of you. The moment you rinse your hair you work on washing his still very bruised body. Any chance he gets, he's leaning down to steal a kiss.

"I love you." He says between kisses.

"I love you too."

"I've loved you in every lifetime, and I'll love you in every single one that comes next." He means it. He's lived so many lifetimes as a protector and hopes he finds you in every single one.

[nightshao]

𝑮𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➙ Wen Junhui x f! reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➙ When you inherits an estate, you expects creaking floors and dust — not a ghost who swears you’re his wife. The house breathes with memories that aren’t yours, and every night, a soft voice whispers your name. Jun isn’t frightening; he’s heartbreakingly gentle, waiting for a love you've forgotten.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ➙ Angst, Ghost x Human, Dark Romance, Mention of Past Lives, Slow burn (I think??), Tragic Romance, Love beyond Death, “You forgot me but I never did” type of shit, Porn w/ Plot (and yes, YOU CAN SKIP the sex scene if not comfortable with the smut warnings)

𝐖𝐂 ➙ 12.8k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➙ MDNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral sex (both f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, neck grab, restraining hands, sensory description, necromancy, wax play, temperature play, soft dominance, implied somnophilia, body worship (jun be obsessed hahaha), dirty talk, ghost sex, dom! jun, sub! reader, crying from pleasure and pain, dacryphilia, loud moans (for both of them), possessiveness, creampie, clit stimulation

🎧 ➙ No sense by Justin Bieber ⋮ Fetish by Selena Gomez ⋮ Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ ahh I adore this story so much!! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m usually known for my angst works, so I guess this is my moment to shine hahaha. please don’t hesitate to click out or skip the explicit parts if they make you uncomfortable — this one gets a little intense with the kinktober themes 😭 anyways, reblogs (w/ or w/o tags) are always appreciated. love you lots!!

navigation ✮ masterlist ✮ guidelines

The house was older than your name.

It stood past the last turn of the countryside road, half-swallowed by the forest, where even the birds refused to sing. The lawyer had given you the address over a call that sounded static, voice clipped, rushed — like he didn’t want to linger on the topic too long.

“An inheritance, Miss L/N,” he’d said. “A private estate. Been untouched for years. You’re the last living relative.” “Relative of who?” you’d asked. “Of the previous owner, Miss Wen.. if I remember correctly. Distant, very distant. She had no direct heirs. You might want to- ah -look through the documents yourself.”

The call ended before you could ask more.

Now, standing at the foot of the property, suitcase in hand, you realised how words could never have prepared you for this.

It was enormous, but not in the modern sense. The house was alive in its decay — a mansion of forgotten gold and black wood, wrapped in ivy that crawled like veins up the cracked stone. The windows glowed faintly amber, reflecting the dying sun. Even the wind that brushed against your skin felt heavy with something unsaid.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, pushing the rusted gates open. “Creepy, but not.. haunted. Hopefully.”

Your footsteps echoed across the gravel path leading up to the grand doors. Each step felt like trespassing on someone’s memory. When you finally pushed the door open, it didn’t screech or fight you like an old hinge should — it sighed, like the house itself was breathing you in.

The first thing that hit you was the smell — grass and rain, faint but fresh, like someone had opened a window minutes ago. The foyer stretched out before you, the chandelier above still glittering under years of dust. Paintings lined the walls. Not landscapes, not still lifes — just portraits. Of the same man.

You paused in front of one. He was handsome in a way that felt wrong for being immortalised in oil paint — sharp jaw, dark, tousled hair that falls around his neck in soft layers, eyes are gentle yet piercing. Scattered across his skin are small, striking moles — near his lips, another on his cheek, and gracing his forehead — as if even the universe couldn’t resist marking beauty where it found it.

Someone had painted him with devotion. You leaned closer. “Whoever you were,” you whispered, “you were definitely the favourite.”

The next few hours passed in quiet exploration. Every room was preserved — sheets draped over furniture, candles that looked half-burned but untouched by time, books still open mid-page on desks. It was eerie, yes, but also intimate. Like someone had just stepped out of the room and would return any minute.

By dusk, exhaustion caught up with you. You found the master bedroom on the second floor — and stopped cold. It was clean. No dust. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets turned down as though waiting. There was even a small vase by the window, a single white rose standing tall in it. You frowned.

“Someone’s been here,” you murmured. Then, louder, calling out just in case, “Hello? Is anyone-?” Silence. Except the faint hum of wind through the old vents. You hesitated, then sighed. “Guess I’ll just lock the door.”

The bed was too soft. Too inviting. You sat down anyway. The pillow smelled faintly of cedar and musk, a scent that didn’t belong to you. Still, the fatigue was pulling you under, and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

—

A breath brushed your neck. So real, so warm, it made every hair on your body stand on end. “You came back.” You bolted upright, eyes scanning the room. “Who’s there?” Nothing. Only the curtains swaying even though the windows were closed.

Your heart hammered as you reached for your phone flashlight. Its glow hit the mirror across the room — and froze you in place. In the reflection, someone stood behind you. A man, tall and pale, dressed in white collared shirt, neckline framing a single pearl necklace that adds a delicate contrast to his look.

Over it, he wears a black tweed jacket interwoven with silver threads, catching light in subtle glints. His expression wasn’t threatening. If anything, he looked relieved. He smiled softly. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned around. Empty. Your throat felt dry. “I’m-” You laughed weakly to yourself, trying to shake it off. “definitely calling the real estate agent tomorrow.”

You climbed back into bed, pulling the blanket tightly around your shoulders. But your body refused to relax. When your breathing finally steadied, you noticed something that made your pulse skip again. Your dress.

It had slipped halfway off your shoulder, your collarbone bare. And on your skin, faint as breath, was the outline of a handprint. You stared at it until your eyes blurred, until the scent of roses filled the air, until sleep pulled you back into the dark.

And somewhere, between waking and dreaming, you heard him whisper again — closer this time, almost tender “I’m glad you’re back, Wen Y/N.”

Morning came gently — too gently for an abandoned place. The light that poured through the curtains was soft and gold, catching the dust in the air like glitter. You sat up slowly, your body still wrapped in that hazy, half-remembered dream. There was no handprint now. No scent of smoke or roses. Just quiet.

“Okay,” you whispered, rubbing your eyes. “Maybe I just freaked myself out.” You checked your phone. Now we’re talking. I can definitely live here, there's a signal. It showed the time, 7:43 a.m. You must’ve slept like a rock.

After washing up with the little water that still ran in the bathroom sink, you wandered downstairs. The house looked different in daylight — less ominous, more tragically beautiful. Every surface was layered with dust except for a few areas: the stairs’ rail, the main hallway, the parlour table. Like someone had constantly wiped them.

You knelt beside one of the portraits in the living room and dusted it gently with your sleeve. The man’s painted gaze met yours again, unblinking and patient. His eyes were dark brown, almost gold under the varnish.

There were at least eight portraits in the entire house, all of him. Each painted a little differently: one in uniform, another in casual robes, another holding a book. You moved to the last one by the fireplace — this time, he wasn’t alone.

A woman stood beside him. The artist hadn’t captured her face clearly, but she wore a white dress and veil, hand resting delicately on the man’s arm. A wedding portrait. You tilted your head, curiosity pricking at you. “So.. you were married,” you murmured, brushing the edge of the frame. “And I’m guessing your wife didn’t inherit the place. Lucky me.”

You took a step back, hands on your hips. The house was huge, but not unmanageable. You could make it feel like home again. So you started cleaning.

At first, it was just idle — opening windows, letting air in, humming faintly under your breath. But then something strange happened. The longer you worked, the more you noticed subtle traces of order that weren’t yours: beds already made, a vase refilled with white roses, curtains tied back differently. Someone — or something — had been maintaining this house all along.

You shook your head, deciding to distract yourself before your imagination spiraled like last night. Grabbing your phone, you opened your messages to message your best friend.

Y/N: guess who inherited a horror movie set 😭

Hao 😈: LMAOOO don’t tell me it’s that creepy old mansion your mom mentioned??

Y/N: yeah. the one with zero neighbors and 800 ghosts per square meter

Hao 😈: pls send pics 😭😭

Y/N: hold up

You snapped a few photos: the cracked chandelier, the grand staircase, one of the portraits — you didn’t even realise until later that it was the wedding one.

Y/N: okay ngl it’s pretty. like victorian pretty. you should come here.

Hao 😈: looks like somewhere a hot ghost would haunt.

Y/N: stop! 😭😭

Hao 😈: no bc imagine waking up w/ a ghost husband like “good morning my bride” 💀

Y/N: STOP IT HAO I SWEAR I’LL MOVE OUT

Hao 😈: u say that but u also said ur into tragic romance when bored soooo 👀

You laughed out loud, the sound echoing across the empty hall.

Y/N: fine. if a ghost husband appears i’ll let u know so u can write my obituary.

Hao 😈: deal

You pocketed your phone, still smiling. The house felt a little less lonely now. By afternoon, sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering coloured light on the floor. You carried an armful of old books back to the library and froze when you saw one already open on the table — one you knew you hadn’t touched.

Its pages were lined with elegant handwriting. You could barely read the faded ink, but you caught one phrase clearly underlined: “Bound beyond death, by name and vow.” A chill ran down your arms. You shut the book gently, heart thudding. “Okay.. enough cleaning for today.”

Outside, the wind had stopped entirely. The forest was silent. The only sound left in the house was your breathing — and somewhere, faintly, a low hum. Like someone singing through the walls.

The house was quiet that night. Too quiet.

You settled at the desk with your laptop, your only source of light a small lamp you’d brought from your old apartment. The rest of the room lay in shadows, the wallpaper peeling faintly in the corners as if the air itself had been holding its breath for years.

You cracked your knuckles, muttering, “Okay. Chapter sixty-three. Let’s do this.” The blinking cursor greeted you like an old friend.

Your book — To Breathe Again — had been a year in the making, and your editor had been hounding you for pages. The irony of working on a novel about necromancy wasn’t lost on you. You even laughed about it when you messaged Minghao earlier those years.

Y/N: if i start writing ghost love stories don’t pick me up, i’m doing the right thing

Hao 😈: u kinky mf

Y/N: shut up 😒

Hao 😈: ok but if u get possessed can u at least ask the ghost to edit my thesis

You shook your head, smiling to yourself before getting back to work. Hours passed unnoticed, the rhythm of typing filling the silence like a heartbeat. Sometimes you swore you could hear faint footsteps pacing the hallway — the kind that made the wooden floor groan softly, like memory itself stretching awake. Every time you paused to listen, the sound stopped.

Around 2 a.m., you leaned back in your chair and sighed. “One more paragraph,” you told yourself. But the words on the screen blurred together, and your head eventually dipped forward. You must’ve dozed off right there at the desk.

When you woke, it was morning again. The sun slanted through the tall windows, warm on your face. You blinked against the light, you woke up in the bed “ahm.. did I sleep walk here last night?” you mumbled, stretching your arms.

But your body felt sore in a way that didn’t make sense — like you’d been tossing in bed for hours, muscles overworked and trembling faintly. Your nightgown clung to your skin, a little too loose at the collar and ends almost reaching your hips.

You frowned, rubbing your eyes. It hurts. That’s when you noticed your laptop. The document you’d been writing was still open — but your last sentence had changed. Instead of “She pressed her hand against the cold stone altar..” the words now read:

She pressed her hand against the warmth of his chest and whispered, “I’m home.”

Your heart stuttered. You didn’t remember typing that. And yet.. the phrasing sounded exactly like something you would write. You closed the laptop slowly, the faint scent of something — cedar, musk, and roses — lingering in the air, as if someone had been beside you all night, breathing close enough to touch.

The smell of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the sound of eggs hitting the pan soft and rhythmic. Sunlight pooled faintly through the old lace curtains, dust swirling in golden ribbons. You could almost pretend the house wasn’t haunted — that it was just another quiet morning.

Almost.

You rolled your shoulders, wincing. There was still a deep, dull ache running through your muscles, especially between your thighs. “Did I- sleep weird?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. You brushed off the thought with a nervous laugh and reached for the salt.

It must’ve been another one of those dreams. The kind that felt too real, too heavy. You remembered flashes — pale fingers tracing your skin, a whisper against your ear. The dream man’s touch had been so vivid that your body still remembered the heat. You’d seen his face this time too, clear and unblurred, framed by soft candlelight.

And it wasn’t just any face.

Your gaze drifted across the kitchen, toward the hallway where the portraits hung — the ones you’d noticed. You froze, spatula hovering midair.

The reflection in the hallway mirror caught him perfectly — the same slanted eyes, the same mouth curved like a secret. You blinked, once, twice, stepping closer to make sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks.

It was him.

The man from your dreams.

Your stomach dropped, pulse quickening in your throat. He’d been here all along, hanging silently in those frames, watching you from the moment you arrived.

You forced a shaky laugh, brushing stray hair from your face. “Okay. Creepy coincidence. It’s just- just the power of suggestion, right?” you told yourself, trying to sound convinced. “You saw the portrait before bed, your brain mashed it into a dream. Simple.”

The portrait didn’t answer. Behind you, the stove hissed. And for the briefest moment — just before you turned off the heat — you thought you heard a low voice whisper near your ear, soft and familiar “Good morning, my bride.”

You froze mid-breath.. again, every hair on your neck standing up. The voice was right there. Close enough that you could feel the faintest whisper of air brush past your ear. Your body reacted before your brain did.

“WHAT THE!” You spun around with the frying spatula raised like a weapon, egg still clinging to the edge. “WHO’S THERE?! I SWEAR I’LL- I’LL FLIP YOU TO HELL!!”

“Please don’t,” came a calm, almost amused voice from somewhere behind you. It wasn’t echoing, wasn’t hollow — it sounded real. Too real. “You’ll stain the walls with yolk, and I quite like our kitchen.”

Your eyes darting around the empty room. No one. Nothing. Just the faint sound of your pan still sizzling. Your heart hammered against your ribs. “Who- who said that?” Silence. Then, softly: “Jun.”

You blinked. “Jun..? What? Huh- ha?!” A small pause, then a low hum that almost sounded like a chuckle. “So you can hear me. That’s good.”

Your grip tightened on the spatula. “Okay. Either I’m losing it, or I’m being haunted by a polite ghost who cares about kitchen hygiene.” “Haunted?” Jun sounded genuinely offended. “That’s a rather cruel word for a husband, don’t you think?”

You gawked at the air. “Excuse me- husband?!” “Yes.” His tone softened, almost fond. “You’ve been wearing my ring.” You glanced down — and nearly dropped the spatula. On your left hand, glinting faintly in the sunlight, was a thin silver band. You had no idea when it got there.

“Oh hell no,” you whispered, yanking it off. “This is not happening.” Jun’s laugh was gentle, teasing. “You always say that. I miss hearing from you.”

“What- no, no, no! Don’t gaslight me, Casper!” “That’s not my name.” “I don’t care!” you shouted at the air. “You-! Get out of my house! Out! Whatever supernatural lease you think you have here, it’s over!”

“I’m afraid it’s not,” he said lightly. “This house is also mine.. and to you.” You dragged a hand down your face, spatula still clutched tight. “Great. Fantastic. I move into a cursed house, and my new roommate is a ghost husband with boundary issues.”

There was a low, almost bashful chuckle. “You weren’t complaining last night.” You froze, eyes wide. “Excuse me?” But the voice didn’t answer this time — just a faint, amused hum that faded into the creak of the old walls.

You pointed the spatula at the ceiling. “Don’t you dare ghost-laugh at me, Jun!” Somewhere, you swore you heard the faintest echo of a grin in his voice, that made you drop your spatula “You’re cute when you’re angry, my bride.”

—

You sat at the kitchen counter, laptop open, breakfast cold. The spatula still lay on the floor where you’d dropped it mid-crisis. Your phone buzzed beside your plate. You snatched it up like a lifeline.

[Group chat: “Emergency Life Updates (aka Therapy)]

Y/N: besties i think my house is haunted

Hao 😈: LMAOOOO it’s been 3 days, that’s a record. what happened suddenly??

Y/N: some man’s voice called me his wife while i was making eggs

Min 😵‍💫: ..was he hot at least???

Y/N: I DON’T KNOW I DIDN’T EVEN SEE HIM

Min 😵‍💫: so u married a ghost sight unseen 💀 bold of u

Y/N: IM NOT MARRIED

Hao 😈: sure kinky mf who’s writing a novel exactly with that plot, i think u manifested it loll

Y/N: also i think he’s a victorian ghost level polite. kept saying “my bride” like bro calm down

Min 😵‍💫: LMFAO STOPPPP this is going in my notes. “haunted by horny regency ghost”

Y/N: NO 😭😭

Hao 😈: did u check the portraits u sent me? maybe he’s one of those men 👀

Y/N: that’s the thing. IT’S HIM.

Hao 😈: oh.

Min 😵‍💫: …babe.

Hao 😈: are u sure ur not just having like, a super vivid lucid dream? u do write romance for a living.

Y/N: im literally wide awake and my ghost just argued with me about kitchen cleanliness

Hao 😈: sounds husband material to me. when’s the wedding??

Min 😵‍💫: more like when was the wedding LMAOOO

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Why are my friends like this,” you muttered aloud. Why is Mingyu missing out of all times.. Seokmin and Minghao are no help. From somewhere down the hall, a familiar voice replied, low and teasing, “Are you in distress?”

You shrieked and nearly dropped your phone. “HAO HE’S HERE AGAIN.”

Hao 😈: ok listen before u start performing an exorcism, record it. i want receipts.

Y/N: u want me to RECORD THE DEMON?

Hao 😈: for science.

Y/N: i hate you.

You peeked over your shoulder, heart pounding. “Jun?” “I’m here,” came the smooth reply, closer now. “You don’t need to shout, my love.” You stiffened. “Don’t call me that!” “I can’t,” he said softly, like it was the saddest truth in the world. “You’re all I have left.”

The words hung in the air, so gentle it almost made you forget the absurdity of the moment. Almost. You typed one last message with shaky fingers.

Y/N: ok yeah maybe the ghost husband is kinda sad and not bad

Min 😵‍💫: so u admit he’s hot

Y/N: BLOCKED.

You set your phone down, exhaling deeply. “Okay.. Jun,” you muttered, scanning the empty room. “If we’re really doing this ghost tenant thing, why are you still here?” A quiet laugh brushed your ear like wind.

“Devotion. It ties me to the house.. to you.” You groaned. “Oh my god. He’s poetic too.”

It started the same way it had the last two nights. The soft creak of floorboards. The faint shift of weight on the mattress. The air cooling around you as if someone had opened a window. You didn’t move this time.

“Jun,” you whispered into the dark. “You’re here again, aren’t you?” Silence, then “I always am.” His voice came from beside you, smooth as velvet, threaded with something ancient. “You sleep so restlessly when I’m not.” “I sleep restlessly because there’s a ghost in my bed,” you muttered, sitting up halfway.

“Do you even.. sleep?” He chuckled, the sound low and fond. “No. Not anymore.” You exhaled through your nose, squinting into the faint light spilling through the curtains. “Okay, let’s try this again. Who are you, Jun?”

“I’ve told you,” he said gently. “I am your husband.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer. A name and a marital claim don’t explain why I wake up sore, by the way.” A pause. His voice softened, almost guilty. “I haven’t touched you without your consent.”

You arched a brow toward the darkness. “Really? Because my sore thighs say otherwise.” “I swear it.” His tone deepened, steady and earnest. “Your body aches from something else — the remnants of the bond. The house.. it remembers. And through it, so does your body.”

“The house remembers?” you repeated, half a scoff, half a laugh. “Jun, that’s not- that’s not even science. That’s..” “Magic,” he finished for you, quiet but unyielding.

You stared at the shadows for a long moment. “You expect me to believe that I’m some reincarnated bride living in a haunted love nest?” “I don’t expect you to believe,” he murmured. “Only to listen.”

Your throat tightened — something about the way he said it felt real. Too real. You tried to sound casual. “Then why are you here? Why can’t you just.. move on? Find peace, cross the afterlife, whatever ghosts are supposed to do.”

A silence. Then the faintest brush of a cold fingertip against your wrist — hesitant, reverent. “Because my peace was buried with you.” You froze. “You’ve got the wrong girl,” you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

“Perhaps,” Jun said softly. “But tell me, why do you wake up with my name on your lips?” You blinked, stunned. “I- I don’t.” “You do,” he said simply. There was no arrogance in it, only sorrow.

You fell quiet for a moment, staring at the darkness that felt far too alive. “You really didn’t do anything?” “No,” he said, and this time his voice was gentle enough to make you believe him. “Only kissed you when you were dreaming. You looked so lonely.”

Your heart squeezed. “That’s still technically not consent.” He laughed quietly, the sound curling through the air like smoke. “Then I’ll ask properly next time.”

You sighed, lying back down. “There’s not going to be a next time.” “I said that once too,” he murmured. You pulled the blanket over your face, trying to hide your smile. “You’re so dramatic for someone dead.”

“I was dramatic before I died,” he countered, teasing now. “You said you liked it.” You turned to where you thought he was, whispering, “You talk too much.” “And you listen too little.”

Somewhere between his chuckle and your quiet hum of annoyance, your eyes slipped closed. The bed dipped slightly, just enough for you to feel the outline of someone lying beside you. And though you told yourself you didn’t believe in ghosts, you still whispered, just before sleep took you,

“Goodnight, Jun.” A hand — cold but gentle — brushed your hair back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

—

You pushed the front door open with your shoulder, grocery bags cutting into your fingers, sunlight spilling in behind you.

“Jun!” you called out, voice echoing across the empty living room. “I was literally talking to you outside for ten minutes simply about if you do eat or not, and then I realised-” You paused dramatically, setting the bags down on the counter. “You weren’t even there!”

There was a soft hum from somewhere near the hallway — warm, amused. “Why are you talking to yourself outside?” Jun said. You glared toward the voice. “Don’t turn this on me. The delivery guy looked at me like I’d lost my mind. I thought you’re with me. This past few weeks, you never leave me alone”

He chuckled quietly, the sound wrapping around you. “Would you rather I scare other people half to death? Also, I can’t help you outside anyway”

You huffed, unpacking the paper bags. “Still. You could’ve… I don’t know. Come with me? You never go out.” There was a pause — not defensive, just words. “I can’t,” he said simply. Your hands stilled on a carton of milk. “Can’t?”

“The house is my boundary,” he explained. “My anchor. I’m bound here — by the curse, by memory, by you. Step beyond the threshold and I start to fade.” You turned toward the sound, heart softening. “That’s awful.”

“It’s tolerable,” he murmured. “I was alone here for so long before you came.” Your chest tightened. “Jun..” He spoke again, light but wistful. “Besides, I like it here. You fill the rooms with noise and scent and warmth. It’s almost enough to feel alive again.”

You rolled your eyes — to hide the sudden pang of emotion. “You sound like a bad poem.” “I was a bad poet once,” he teased. “You threw my drafts into the fire.” You froze mid-unpacking. “What?” He laughed, low and delighted. “Ah — perhaps that was another life.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.” “I missed being called that,” he said softly.

The quiet after that settled gently, like a comfortable silence between old friends, or husband and wife..? You busied yourself with arranging the vegetables, pretending you didn’t notice the way the air thickened slightly around you — Jun standing close, unseen but undeniably there.

“Hey,” you said after a moment. “If you can’t go out.. what do you do all day when I’m gone?” “I watch,” he said simply. “Creepy.” “Protectively,” he amended, amused. “I walk through the halls. Listen to the wind. Sometimes I read over your shoulder when you’re writing.”

You shot a look toward the dark corner of the kitchen. “That’s definitely creepy.” “Then perhaps,” he said, voice warm with laughter, “I’ll keep doing it.” You couldn’t help it — you laughed too, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, Jun.”

“I was told I made an impossible husband,” he said, tone dipping into something soft, almost nostalgic. “But I like to think I’m improving.” You ignored the way your heart skipped. “Keep the flattery for someone you can actually touch.”

Another pause — this one quieter, heavier. Then: “I can touch you.. just to remind you,” he murmured.

You swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. The light from the window dimmed as clouds rolled in outside, shadows crawling gently across the old wood floor. You pretended to focus on your groceries again, voice light but trembling slightly.

“Well,” you said, “if you’re going to touch me, at least help me unpack next time.” A faint rustle answered you — the bag of rice shifting slightly on its own, sliding closer to the cabinet.

You froze. Then laughed, a soft disbelieving sound. “Show-off.” From behind you hear his amused whisper, low and tender “Only for my wife.”

—

It was past midnight, the kind of hour where even the wind outside seemed half-asleep. The house was wrapped in silence, save for the soft rustle of paper as you turned another page of your book. The lamp beside your bed cast a warm circle of light that didn’t quite reach the corners of the room, where the dark always seemed to breathe.

You could feel him there. “Jun,” you said quietly, without looking up. “Are you here?” A pause — then that familiar voice, soft and close. “I’m always here.”

You smiled faintly, still reading. “That’s supposed to be comforting, right?” “I suppose that depends,” he murmured, “on whether you believe I’m haunting you or protecting you.”

You tilted your head toward the voice. “You keep saying you’re not haunting me, but it sure feels like it sometimes.” “Would a haunt make your tea every morning?” he teased gently.

“That was you?” You blinked. “I thought I was just.. sleepwalking.” “I can’t do much,” he said quietly, “but I can move little things when the night is kind to me.”

You shut the book slowly, the words blurring. “Why do you do it?” “Because you forget to take care of yourself when you write,” he said simply. “You get lost. I don’t want to see you vanish the way I did.”

Your breath caught. “The way you did?” He didn’t answer at first — only silence, deep and heavy, filled the room. Then, softly “I loved too fiercely. Enough to tether my soul here.” You looked toward the darkness, where you thought his voice had come from. “For her? Your wife?”

A faint laugh, like wind through old glass. “For you.” The room suddenly felt colder, your heart lurching against your ribs. “Jun, that’s-” “I know,” he interrupted gently. “It doesn’t make sense. Not to you. Not yet.”

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, eyes scanning the space though you knew you wouldn’t see him. “You sound like a tragic novel waiting to happen.” “Perhaps that’s why you were drawn here,” he said softly. “Writers always return to unfinished stories.”

You exhaled, half a sigh, half a shaky laugh. “You make everything sound like fate.” “Isn’t it?” His voice was closer now — you swore you felt the faintest brush of fingers along your hair, so gentle you might’ve imagined it.

“You should sleep,” he murmured. “The world outside can wait.” “Are you staying?” you asked, eyes drooping. “I never left.” You smiled faintly, a small surrender, before your eyelids fluttered closed.

Jun stayed — unseen but so achingly near, his presence hovering like a heartbeat in the dark. And when your breathing evened out, his whisper came, softer than a sigh “You once told me you’d find me again. I suppose you always keep your promises.”

The cafe was the kind that looked like a Pinterest board come to life — soft lighting, fern leaves drooping over every table, the faint hum of an espresso machine mixing with lo-fi music. You sat by the window with your laptop open, pretending to edit your manuscript while your three best friends interrogated you like you were on trial.

“So,” Hao started, sipping his iced latte dramatically, “how’s married life?” You choked on your drink. “What- excuse me?” Min snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You literally sent us a picture of another portrait and said, He’s kinda hot for a dead guy. Don’t tell me you’re not crushing on the house ghost.”

You pressed your fingers against your temple. “I was joking!” “Were you, though?” Gyu cut in, deadpan as ever. “You also texted last night that someone made you tea again. Either you have a kind spirit or a trespasser with excellent domestic skills.”

Seokmin gasped theatrically. “Or maybe both!” You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s a ghost.” “Then why are you blushing?” Minghao leaned forward with a grin. “Look at her, Seok- she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” you hissed, but your cheeks burned hotter than the cappuccino in front of you. “He’s just..” You stopped, realising how ridiculous it would sound to admit that Jun talked to you every night. That he teased you, cared for you, comforted you in ways that humans can’t even do.

Mingyu leaned back, stirring his coffee lazily. “You’re acting like you’ve got a boyfriend who only comes out after dark.” You glared at him. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Seokmin propped his chin on his hands. “Not yet.”

Hao laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “God, this is gonna be one of her novels, isn’t it? Lonely writer moves into a haunted house, ghost falls in love with her, she says it’s a curse, but he says it’s destiny-”

“Stop quoting my life!” you interrupted, waving your spoon like a weapon. “You guys are the worst.” “We’re the realists,” Min said, still smirking. “You just happen to be living inside your own plot twist.”

For a moment, they all laughed, that kind of carefree, echoing laugh that only happens in midday cafes. You joined in too, trying to drown out the strange warmth you felt under your ribs.

Your laughter stuttered, your eyes darting toward the window. The glass reflected only you and your friends — no one else. You sometimes think every time you’re outside, is he bored at home? Is he okay? That quiet presence. A part of you just wants to stay at home.

“See?” Min teased, nudging you. “She’s spacing out. Probably thinking about her ghost husband.” You forced a laugh, looking back at him, heart racing. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Something like that.”

The cafe hummed with lazy afternoon chatter. You sat across from Minghao, Seokmin, and Mingyu, who somehow turned what was supposed to be a casual catch-up into a full-blown roast session.

“You’re into ghosts now, huh? So that’s why you’re not dating anyone alive?” Hao said, chuckling. You jabbed a straw at him. “Minghao, I swear to God-” Gyu raised an eyebrow. “What’s his name again?” You hesitated. The word caught on your tongue. “Jun.”

All three of them stared for a beat before Min smirked. “Jun? You even named him?” “I didn’t name him!” you said quickly. “That’s what he-” You froze. “That’s what his real wife, maybe, called him.”

“Right.” Mingyu nodded, clearly unconvinced. “So this ghost talks to you, cooks for you, and sleeps beside you-” “He doesn’t sleep beside me!” you blurted, heat rising to your cheeks. “He just- he-” “Uh-huh.” Seokmin grinned. “You’re doomed, man. She’s in deep.”

You tried to laugh it off, but your pulse was unsteady. Because later, when you were back home and the house greeted you with that quiet stillness, the laughter from earlier still echoed faintly in your head — you called Jun, yet no one was responding.

You frowned. He always answered when you came home. Even just a faint, teasing whisper — You’re late, little human. But tonight, nothing. Just the quiet hum of air through the vents and the faint ticking of the antique clock in the foyer.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, forcing a laugh. “So we’re doing the ghost-silent-treatment thing now? Cute.” You busied yourself in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet or two a little louder than necessary. Still nothing. The quiet felt heavier now — not the peaceful kind, but the kind that watches you.

“Jun.” You called again, voice sharper. “If you’re mad at me for something, at least say it. Don’t just.. vanish.” The air stirred faintly behind you, like a breath on your neck. You turned, but the space was empty. A shiver ran down your arms.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re sulking because I went out with my friends.” You rolled your eyes, more to convince yourself than anything. “You’re not seriously mad, right?” Still nothing. You exhaled. “Fine. Silent treatment it is. You win. I’ll just talk to myself then.”

You started rambling, pacing the living room like a stand-up comic trying to fill dead air. “For the record, they’re friends. Normal, breathing, alive friends who buy me coffee and don’t haunt my house.”

The chandelier above flickered faintly. You stopped. “Did I strike a nerve there?” A faint hum of energy prickled across your skin — the sign that he was listening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You sighed, softer now. “You know, it’s kind of unfair. You disappear when I talk to other people, but then you act like I’m supposed to just stay here waiting for you to materialise out of thin air.” The silence stretched.

You pressed your lips together. “I’m not yours, Jun.”

That’s when you heard it — not a loud voice, but something that slid into your mind like a thought that wasn’t yours. “Aren’t you?” You froze. The temperature dropped suddenly, enough for your breath to fog in front of you.

“You wear my ring,” his voice murmured now, closer, though he still wasn’t visible. “You live in my house. You sleep in my bed. You call my name every night without realising it.”

You spun toward the sound. “You didn’t answer when I came home. You scared me.” “I know.” The reply was soft, low, guilty — but underneath it, something darker stirred. “You talked about me with them,” Jun continued, voice drifting between the walls, nearer and nearer. “You laughed. You blushed. Did you enjoy that?”

“Jun,” you warned, heart pounding, “how did you even-? Don’t do this.” He let out a breath of what almost sounded like a laugh. “You think I don’t feel it? Every time someone says your name, every time you smile at someone else, it burns.”

Your pulse quickened, a strange mix of fear and warmth tightening in your chest. “You’re not even alive, Jun. What are you implying?” “Maybe not,” he whispered. “But you still make me feel it.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the faint outline of his form starting to shimmer near the hallway mirror — not solid yet, just smoke and memory. “Then don’t disappear like that again,” you said quietly. “If you can feel something, then talk to me. Don’t just.. leave.”

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then the faintest smile crossed his half-formed face. “You missed me.” You scoffed. “You were sulking.” “I was angry,” he corrected. “Because for a moment, I thought maybe you preferred your men.” You looked at the mirror — at his faint, sorrowful expression behind your reflection.

“They're not my men.. they’re my friends. You’re impossible,” you whispered. “And you,” Jun said softly, “are the only thing I’ve wanted in centuries.”

The room stilled. The air grew warmer. You felt the ghost of fingers trace the outline of your wrist — not cold, but not quite warm either. Just real enough to make you tremble.

Jun's reflection leaned closer, his gaze locked on your lips. His hands moved from your wrist to either side of your head, trapping you gently between his ghostly palms. “Say you're mine,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent.

You didn’t answer. He held your hands and pulled you near the mirror, “Do you need to see me, for you to talk?” he said, a little annoyed, you’re not sure whether to you or to himself. You looked directly at the mirror, memorising his ethereal face.

His hands framed your face, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he stared into your eyes, making you look at his direction directly, nothing, you can see nothing. But you could feel his presence, his breath ghosting over your neck. “I'm not in the mirror, my wife” he murmured, voice coming from both directions. “I'm here.”

The ghostly hands slid from your cheeks to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. He leaned in closer, his translucent lips hovering just above yours. “Let me kiss you,” he whispered against your mouth. “Please.”

You smiled.. “only because you asked this time.” Jun's reflection smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He loved when you teased him, even a little. It meant you weren't scared of him. “Only because I asked?” He repeated softly, his voice ghosting over your lips. “You admitted before that you did without my consent.”

His expression turned serious, one hand moving to gently grasp your chin, turning your face slightly as if preparing to kiss you but stopping himself. “I’m sorry. That was my mistake.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “This time.. will be different.”

He stared at you intently, his hands steady and gentle. “I'll ask for permission every time. I'll wait for your agreement. And if you say no, I'll stop.” His voice was quiet, sincere. His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding.

You parted your lips slightly to answer. “Then go on.” That was all Jun needed. He surged forward, capturing your mouth softly at first. He tested your response — one hand cupped your cheek possessively while the other slid around your waist. You hummed softly, making him deeper. Now this is weird but also kinda hot.. I’m kissing the air.

Jun’s kiss grew more insistent, his tongue gently probing your mouth. He tasted sweet, like a phantom memory of honey and mint. His hands roamed from your waist downwards until they gripped onto your hips firmly pulling you closer towards him. You can feel him.

You gasped against his mouth as he pulled you closer, his cold hands gripping your hips tightly. Jun took advantage of your open mouth, deepening the kiss even further by pushing his tongue inside. He tangled it with yours, exploring your mouth thoroughly as if he was trying to memorise the taste of you. “Fucking hell, you taste like heaven.”

“For someone who’s dead, you curse so strongly.” You said laughing in between the kisses. In the mirror, you can see him smirking against your lips, his voice husky and amused. “Even ghosts can curse when they’re kissing someone they’ve been longing for.” His hands slid down to your thighs lifting them slightly as if trying to pull them around his waist.

You giggled, the sound muffled against his mouth. Jun groaned, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He pulled harder, attempting to wrap your legs around his unseen waist. The mirror grew warmer, fogging up completely as their kiss grew more intense, more desperate.

“Jun.. my imaginations may be wild, yet I can’t do this to someone I can only see in the mirror”

Jun’s smirk faltered. For a second, his reflection looked as though it was flickering — as if even his smile could no longer hold shape. Then he stepped back, his eyes dark and distant. “You can’t see me because you’re not supposed to.”

Before you could ask what that meant, his hand — cold but firm — grasped your wrist. The mirror rippled like water as he pulled you through the hallway. You stumbled after him, feet barely touching the ground, until you reached a door you had never opened before. It was the last one at the end of the corridor at the third floor — carved oak, locked since the day you moved in.

“Jun, wait-” But the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit room heavy with the scent of old wood and faded perfume. Dust particles drifted lazily in the air, but beneath the decay, everything was preserved. A canopy bed stood at the center, its sheets neat, untouched. A wedding veil lay folded at the pillow’s edge.

“This room” you whispered. “I never-” “Because you weren’t meant to remember it.”

Jun’s voice was quieter now, stripped of playfulness, stripped of warmth. He stood by the window, you can’t even see his figure under the pale afternoon light. You could see the garden though — but you know his eyes were solid, endless, tired.

“You walk through this house like a stranger because you are one. But once, you weren’t.” Your chest tightened. “What are you saying?” He looked at you, a faint tremor in his hands. “You can’t see me because you can’t even remember who I am.”

The words felt like a knife — sharp, but dull in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I just moved here. I just-” Jun shook his head. “No. You came back.” He stepped closer. His voice softened, trembling with a kind of desperation you’d never heard from him before.

“You promised me you would, before you died.” Your breath caught. “Died?” “Before you died,” he said again, slower this time, as if tasting every syllable. “You said you would find me. You said, ‘Wait for me. Even if it takes lifetimes, I’ll come back.’”

You blinked rapidly, a faint ringing in your ears. Your mind refused to accept it — but your body remembered something. A pulse in your fingertips. A flash of a wedding ring. A man’s laughter. A voice saying My Jun.

He continued, eyes glimmering like glass. “I remembered everything. That’s my curse. I have lived every life remembering you — who you were, how you died, how you looked at me the day we said our vows. Every damn lifetime.”

The room felt like it was spinning. You staggered back a step and looked around the room, dizzy. That’s where you realise, this room is the real master bedroom, with another portrait.. where Jun and the same woman from downstairs. The difference is that you could see her face clearly now.

A face that is very familiar to you. A face that you see everyday. It’s your face. It’s you. “No.. Jun, that can’t be real. That’s-” “You’ve always said that,” he whispered. “Every life. Every time we meet, you never remember at first. But I always do. And every time, I find you.”

You shook your head, heart pounding painfully. “Then why am I here? Why this house?” “Because it’s where we lived,” Jun said simply. “Where I built a home for you. And where I died waiting when you didn’t come back.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked around the room, his gaze softening with memory. “They called it devotion. I called it punishment. I’ve been bound here, in this house, between life and death, waiting for you. Every creak of the floorboards, every breeze through the window — it’s been you I’ve been calling.”

You sank onto the edge of the bed, the veil beside you brushing against your hands. “Then.. I died?” Jun nodded slowly. “You did. In this life, you lost control of your car the day before our wedding anniversary. You were coming here.” He knelt before you, his touch barely grazing your knee, but warm now, almost human.

“You survived,” he whispered. “But you lost your memory. You forgot me.” Tears burned your eyes before you even realised you were crying. “So that’s why I can’t see you. Because part of me still refuses to remember.”

Jun smiled sadly, brushing your tears away with fingers that faded halfway through the motion. “You can’t see me because you don’t believe in me anymore. And without your belief, I’m barely here.”

You tried reaching out to touch him, his hands guiding your hands to his face — his cheek, his hair, anything solid — but your hand passed through his face like mist.

Until it didn’t.

Warmth bloomed under your touch. Solid. Living. Real. You gasped softly, feeling your heartbeat stumble as Jun’s features sharpened in front of you — the faint curve of his smile, the mole beneath his eye, the soft slope of his nose. He was no longer just a shimmer in the mirror; he was right there.

He was beautiful. And familiar. He’s divine.

The air pulsed once and then everything tilted. The floor beneath your feet dissolved, colours shifting, walls melting into light. You blinked and suddenly, the world changed.

Sunlight streamed through the canopy of white sakura trees, their petals falling like snow. You stood under an arch woven with lilies and pearls, your hands trembling as Jun slid a ring onto your finger.

“Do you promise to haunt me even if I die first?” you teased, your voice catching from laughter and tears. Jun’s lips curved into that same half-smile you’d later dream about. “I’d rather haunt the world than live in it without you.”

You threw your head back, laughing softly, pressing your forehead to his. “That sounds like a curse.”He smiled against your lips. “Then I’ll gladly be cursed.”

—

You stood in front of the house you live in now — only brighter, newer. Boxes piled high on the porch, sunlight filtering through the vines climbing the walls. Jun appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Our forever home,” he said, kissing your temple.

“It’s old,” you murmured. “And it creaks.” “So do we, sometimes.” You laughed, swatting at him. “That’s not romantic.”

He leaned closer, whispering, “Then let me try again.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Our love will creak too, old, stubborn, and impossible to let go.”

—

The sound of clinking porcelain. You sat at the wooden kitchen table, hair still messy from sleep, while Jun poured you tea with that same careful grace he did everything with.

He kissed the back of your hand. “You always forget breakfast when you write.” “And you always act like I’ll starve in two hours,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Because you will,” he replied, sliding the cup toward you. “My wife, the novelist who forgets she has a body.” You smiled, reaching out to tug him closer by the tie. “You talk too much hubby.”

He chuckled. “I love you” you smiled “I love you more”

—

The clock struck midnight, the house silent except for the faint hum of the record player. You were in your pajamas, barefoot on the hardwood floor. Jun appeared behind you, holding out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he said simply. “There’s no music.” “There’s us.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. He spun you once, your laughter echoing in the dim light. The two of you swayed lazily, the world shrinking to the warmth of his hands on your waist and the sound of your quiet breaths syncing together.

—

Thunder boomed outside, rain drumming against the windows. You were both huddled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a single blanket. “Tell me something true,” you murmured, tracing his palm with your finger.

Jun’s gaze softened. “When I first saw you, I thought I had seen you before. Like in a dream that I’d already lived.” “And did you?” you asked.

His silence was long, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Maybe I’ll tell you in another life.” You frowned. “That’s unfair.” “Then stay with me in this one,” he whispered, voice low, almost pleading.

Both of you laughed, as the warmth between you two became one, cuddling at the stormy weather at the bed.

—

“Jun, stop reading over my shoulder!” you groaned, swatting him lightly with your pen. “I can’t help it,” he said, grinning. “Your characters sound like us.” “They do not.”

“They do. ‘The stubborn man who won’t take no for an answer,’” he quoted dramatically, pointing to the page. “That’s clearly me.” You threw a crumpled paper at him. “Then I’ll kill your character next.”

“Then I’ll haunt you,” he teased, eyes glimmering. You rolled your eyes. “Then I’ll marry you out of guilt.” “Perfect. My plan worked.”

—

Sunlight peeked through sheer curtains, painting soft stripes across the bed. Jun’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his chest rising and falling behind you.

“Jun,” you murmured sleepily. “You’re heavy.” He chuckled, half-asleep. “You used to like it.” “I changed my mind.” He buried his face into your hair. “Too late. You married me.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. “You’re impossible.” He kissed your shoulder. “So are you. That’s why it works.”

—

The dining room was dim except for candles you hastily lit on a lopsided cake. Jun entered the room and froze, eyes widening as you yelled, “Happy birthday!” “I told you not to-”

“You think I listen to you?” you said, grinning. “Make a wish before I eat it all.” He stared at you for a moment before blowing the candles out. “I already did.”

You blinked. “What’d you wish for?” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “To live long enough to grow old with you.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s so cheesy.”

But he smiled softly. “Cheesy things are true things.”

—

The smell of oil paint filled the room. You sat by the window, sunlight catching in your hair while Jun worked on a portrait of you. “You’re taking forever,” you complained, swinging your legs.

He looked up from the canvas, smirking. “You move too much.” “I’m bored.” “Then talk to me.” You tilted your head. “What should I say?”

“Say something I can remember,” he said. You smiled. “I love you.” He paused, brush mid-air. “That’ll do.”

The memories collided with reality, your breath ragged as you stumbled back. The house, the mirror, the kitchen — everything shimmered and settled again into the dim golden light of dusk.

You were crying. Not from fear, but from the weight of recognition. “Jun,” you whispered, your hands trembling as they cupped his face. “I remember everything.”

Jun smiled through the tears shining in his eyes. His thumb brushed the corner of your lips like he’d done a thousand times before. “You came back to me.”

Your lips trembled. “And you waited.” He nodded once, a soft, broken laugh escaping him. “Every lifetime.”

His smile turned into a hungry kiss as he pressed you against the old bed where you shared countless moments together you’ve forgotten. His hands roamed over familiar curves remembered through centuries of waiting — for this exact moment where memory returned fully between two souls meant to be entwined forever.

His hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kissed along your jawline. Suddenly, he pressed a cold finger to your neck, activating a necromantic chill that made you gasp and arch into him. “Do you remember my touch?” He whispered huskily

A wicked smile spread across his face as he remembered your kinks. He reached over to the bedside table and lit a candle, the flame flickering to life in the dim room. He started playing with temperatures, his breath, his touch being entirely cold, and the candle.. the wax. He dribbled hot wax onto your collarbone, watching as you gasped and your eyes fluttered closed. He knew exactly what you liked.

He kissed down your neck, his mouth alternately hot and cold like fire and ice. “Wife.. you taste so good.” His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone with wax on it as he slowly unbuttoned your shirt, revealing more skin for him to worship.

One hand continued the slow torture of dripping hot wax onto your skin while the other hand slipped under your bra, teasing your nipple with cold fingertips. “Cold or hot first?” He didn't wait for an answer, switching between hot wax poured onto your chest and his ice-cold hands caressing your skin.

This leaves you shivering and gasping beneath his touch. He unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere as he continued his assault on your senses, his mouth claiming one hardening nipple while his fingers played with the other.

Junhui worshipped your body like he’d been starved for centuries — because he had been. His mouth trailed down to your stomach, kissing and licking each inch of skin he uncovered. He unbuttoned your pants slowly, almost reverently, pulling them down your legs along with your underwear.

He spread your legs gently, his cold hands contrasting with the heat of your core. He leaned down, blowing a cool breath over your clit before he spoke. “I remember everything about you. Every moan, every gasp, every shiver.”

“And I remember how you used to drive me crazy with that mouth of yours.” You spread your legs wider, teasing him deliberately. Jun groaned, pressing a freezing cold kiss directly onto your clit. “Stop teasing me with your knowledge of my body,”

His cold tongue replaced his lips, licking a slow path up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. He used his fingers to spread you open further, his ice-cold digits pushing inside you suddenly. You gasped and bucked against him. “Uhmm-hmm jun..” “You used to call me hubby.” He murmured.

“My hubby,” He growled against your sensitive folds, his fingers curling inside you while his tongue worked overtime on your clit. He remembered every spot that made you moan hubby. His other hand snaked up to pinch one of your nipples hard, making you arch into him.

“You used to grab my hair and fuck my face when I do this..” He demonstrated by sucking hard on your clit while pushing three cold fingers deep inside you, curling them exactly how you used to love. “Ugh! Fuck-”

You instantly wrapped your legs around his head, gripping his hair tightly and riding his face as you moaned his name like a prayer. Jun moaned loudly, his fingers freezing cold inside you as he remembered how much he loved being used by you.

“God, you always ride my face hard when I touch you like this.” He added another finger, spreading them wide inside you, hitting your favourite spot. He blew cold air onto your clit again, watching your body tightly coil with remembered pleasure.

“Stop reminiscing,” You pushed his head away sharply. He laughed softly, his mouth wet with your arousal. “No more remembering how you used to bounce on my face?” He teased, trying to pull your hips back down onto his mouth. You smacked his head lightly, “Asshole.”

He caught your hips sharply, pulling you back. He spread your legs wide, feasting on you like a starving man. His fingers still inside you, curving them perfectly as he ate you loudly, slurping and sucking your clit like it was his last meal.

Your body tightened like a bowstring as he remembered exactly how you liked it. Within minutes, you were crying out, your legs shaking as you came hard against his mouth. “Junhui- God! Aghh Oh my- fuck!”

He kept eating you through your orgasm, his cold fingers never stopping their relentless attack on that sweet spot inside you. He loved how you tasted, how you moaned his name like a dirty prayer. When your legs finally stopped shaking, he pulled away slowly, licking his lips.

He sat up, his face glistening with your juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “You taste even better than I remembered,” he said huskily. He spread his legs slightly, palming his hard, cold erection through his pants.

“My turn, hubby.”

You smirked and slowly removed his jacket and white collared shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs. He lifted his hips so you could pull down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion. His massive, erect dick sprang free, slapping against his stomach with a wet smack.

His hands came up to grip your hair as you looked down at his length. He was already cold and hard, leaking pre-cum. “Take it in your mouth,” he ordered roughly, his Chinese accent thickening with desire. His hand tightened in your hair possessively. “Open Wen Y/N”

You spread your lips slowly, taking the tip of him into your hot mouth. He hissed sharply, his hips bucking slightly. “Damn it,” He muttered softly, watching your wet mouth stretch around him. “You used to deep throat like a pro.” He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you slightly.

His eyes rolled back as you suddenly took him deep into your throat without warning, your nose pressing against his balls. He let out a choked groan — “Fucking hell..” His hands tangled in your hair desperately as you started bobbing up and down rapidly, sucking hard “Shit.. shit- shit, you’re even better now!”

His cold dick throbbed in your mouth as you kept deepthroating him, your tongue pressing against the sensitive vein underneath. He could barely speak, his voice coming out strained “Fuck...fuck..fuck! Goddam- Ughh”

With a loud, muffled groan, he came down your throat, his hips jerking uncontrollably. You swallowed every drop before pulling off with a wet pop. He fell back onto the bed, panting heavily. “Still so noisy” You commented dryly, crawling up his body.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent. “Sure sure..” He murmured against your skin, his voice hoarse. “You’re the loud one. Always screaming my name.” He started kissing and sucking on your neck possessively. “My hubby.. still so good for me.”

He rolled you onto your back, covering your body with his. I can’t even see the ceiling. His cold hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. His dark brown eyes bore into yours intensely. “Turns out, my wife gives even better head now. I wonder how else she’s improved.”

One hand slid under your thigh. “Spread for me, Y/N. Let me check if that tight hole still belongs to me only.” His voice was low and commanding.

He pushed your legs apart roughly, his cold dick already hardening again. I’m fucking a ghost. He’s so cold. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head against your sensitive spot. “You know what I love about this position?” He asked, his voice husky.

“What?” You barely said, “It lets me go deep,” He answered darkly, pushing your thighs back sharply and slamming inside you hard. He hit the bottom instantly, making you cry out loudly. “See?” He pulled back and thrust hard again, making you bounce on the bed. “Noisy.”

He started pounding into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room along with your loud moans and cries. One hand remained on your wrist above your head holding it back while the other on your thighs “Fuck-” He groaned, “Too loud, my wife”

His thrusts became deeper and harder, hitting that spot inside you perfectly. Your loud moans turned into high-pitched screams as he fucked you brutally. “Shut up...shut up”

He slapped a hand over your mouth as you screamed during another deep thrust. “AHHH-” “Jesus,” He muttered against your neck, “You sound like a fucking porn star.” He bit down on your shoulder to muffle his own groan, still fucking you mercilessly.

Your world turned into a blur of cold hands gripping your body painfully, eyes glinting menacingly above you, and a ghostly cock pounding into you. You could feel every inch of him stretching you open, hitting depths you never knew existed. “Mmph..”

You felt possessed, fucked by a literal ghost who showed no mercy. His cold body slammed against yours relentlessly, making the headboard bang against the wall loudly. Your screams were echoing, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth.

Tears streamed down your face from the intense pleasure-pain as he hit your cervix with every thrust. Your nails scrambled against his back, leaving red marks on his pale skin. You felt like you were being claimed by a supernatural being, completely at his mercy. “Nghh!”

Your tears only seemed to fuel his hunger for you. He watched, mesmerised, as they spilled down your cheeks and dripped onto the pillow. “Adorable,” He groaned, his voice laced with dark desire. “My pretty wife crying while I fuck you stupid.”

Mid-thrust, an abrupt memory flashed through his mind — the candle he had lit earlier, still burning softly nearby. A wicked smirk crossed his ghostly face as an idea struck him. “Hold that thought..” He suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and whimpering. “Don't move.”

He quickly reached the candle, dipping his cold fingers into the melted wax. The room fell silent except for your laboured breathing and soft sniffles. “I forgot you’re a ghost, and how you can’t feel pain.” He chuckled then looming over you with a sinister grin and wax-covered fingers. “Spread wider,” He ordered darkly. “Let's play a little game.”

Without warning, he pressed the warm wax against your sensitive entrance, pushing it inside you slowly. You gasped at the foreign feeling, your hole stretching to accommodate the wax. He added more, filling you up with the warm substance before snapping his fingers. “Cold now.” The wax instantly hardened inside you,

Leaving you with a feeling of extreme fullness and pressure. He pushed your legs back even further, until your knees were practically touching your ears. “Now, let's see how long this pretty little human can hold still while I fuck her with a frozen, wax-filled hole.”

He lined up his cock again, pushing the head against your entrance. He groaned as he slowly slid in, the hardened wax making you even tighter than before. “Goddamn,” He grunted, “You feel insane right now.”

With a sharp thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you. The sudden intrusion forced a loud, strangled moan from your throat. “Ahh..! F-fuck..!” You bucked your hips instinctively, only for the wax to shift inside you uncomfortably. “N-no...ahh- st-still..”

He wrapped a hand around your throat to hold you down as he started thrusting his hips slowly, each thrust causing the wax to grind against your prostate pleasurably. Your moans turned into broken whimpers as he fucked you with that unrelenting fullness. “Shh, my wife.. just take it”

He picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours with wet smacks. The wax inside you began to melt slightly from the friction, creating a warm, sticky sensation that had you moaning uncontrollably. “Ahh..ahh...ahhh!”

Your loud, desperate moans sent him over the edge. He slammed into you one last time, hitting your prostate dead on as he came hard inside you. “FUCK!” He groaned loudly, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot cum. “HUBBY!” You screamed as you cream his cock as well inside.

He stayed buried inside you, his heavy breathing gradually slowing as he nuzzled against your neck. The melted wax and his release dripped out of you messily, coating your inner thighs. After a moment, he pulled out slowly, watching as more fluid followed. “Mmm”

You looked down at the mess between your legs, then back up at him with confused eyes. “How.. how are you cumming? You're a ghost” He smirked mischievously, “Ghost sex has its perks, wife. My spirit can still produce semen.”

“And trust me, it feels just as good as real cum would.” He chuckled softly, floating down to clean himself up with some tissues he got at the night stand. “Plus, being dead means I can fuck you for hours without getting tired.”

Your eyes widen, completely not understanding what happened just now, “can I get pregnant..? BY A GHOST?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then shook his head with a soft laugh. “No, Y/N. You can’t get pregnant from ghost sex.” He explained, “My spirit might produce semen, but it lacks the necessary components to impregnate anyone.”

“Oh ok,” you sighed, relieved. His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as he went back up to top you, hovering between your legs. “So basically, I can fill you up as much as I want, and there’s zero risk of an actual baby.” He leaned down to kiss your neck and the night was long.

The morning light slipped through the old lace curtains, pooling soft gold across the floorboards. The air was warmer than usual — almost gentle, like the house itself didn’t want to disturb you. You stirred under the sheets, your body still aching in ways you couldn’t explain, every muscle sore but tingling with something that felt like longing.

This bed feels more like me, than the other bed. I love to be back.

Jun sat beside the bed, his elbow resting on the headboard, chin on his hand, smiling softly. “You’re awake,” he murmured. His voice was as calm as ever, but there was something different in his gaze — something steady, quiet, almost resigned.

You groaned, trying to sit up. “Remind me to never let a ghost manhandle me again.” He laughed — that deep, melodic laugh that used to echo down the hallways when the house was still alive. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, cheeks warming as you tried to swing your legs off the bed, “that was before I realized ghosts apparently have stamina.”

Jun leaned forward, catching your wrist before you could stand. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t move too fast. You’re still sore.” You rolled your eyes. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can,” he teased, standing and offering his hand anyway. “But let me handle you for once.” You took his hand without thinking — it felt solid now, warm even. The thought almost made your chest ache. “Since when did you get so smug?”

He smiled faintly, leading you toward the kitchen. “Since I got my wife back.” You froze mid-step, and for a moment, your breath caught. He said it so casually, like it was the most ordinary truth in the world. But something in his tone — that faint tremor beneath the calm — made your heart twist.

“Jun..” He only smiled again, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Breakfast first. Heavy hearts need coffee.”

He made pancakes. You didn’t even think ghosts could cook, but the smell of butter and sugar filled the air, and when you asked how he did it, Jun just shrugged. “You said you missed the scent of home,” he said, flipping one perfectly golden. “So I borrowed it from your memory.” You laughed. “That’s creepy and romantic. I can’t decide which.” “Can’t it be both?”

The rest of the day passed in a strange sort of domestic bliss. You both cleaned the bedroom — or at least, you did, and Jun hovered around you, pretending to help but mostly teasing you. He brushed wax off your cheek, steadying you every time you leaned too close.

“Do you ever miss it?” you asked suddenly, when you caught him watching the sunlight through the window. He turned to you, smiling faintly. “Miss what?” “Being alive.” For a heartbeat, his smile faltered. Then he said quietly, “Not anymore. Everything I ever wanted.. is standing right here.”

You stared at him — the soft glow in his eyes, the way his voice trembled like he was holding back something heavy. You didn’t press. Instead, you reached out and brushed his hand — and this time, it felt entirely real.

Jun blinked, then smiled again, softer this time. “See? You’re getting stronger.” You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead — his lips almost warm now. “It means you’ll be okay,” he whispered. “Even when I’m not here to make pancakes for you.”

You looked up sharply. “What are you talking about-” “Nothing,” he interrupted, smiling again — that same too-gentle, too-final smile. “Just saying.. ghosts like me don’t get forever. So promise me, if I ever fade away” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “…don’t stop living.”

You didn’t know why, but the air grew heavier around you. The sunlight dimmed. You forced a laugh. “You’re being dramatic again.”

Jun chuckled softly, though his eyes were glistening in the light. “Maybe. But if being dramatic lets me stay in your memory, then I’ll take it.”

You stared at him for a long time, the ache in your chest tightening, and for a fleeting moment, you swore you could see through him — just a shimmer, like heat rising from pavement. But you blinked, and he was solid again. Smiling. Alive in his own way.

And so, you smiled back. “You’ll have to work harder than that to get rid of me.” He leaned in and kissed your lips. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

—

The night came gentle, like the world itself didn’t want to wake you. You sat on the veranda with Jun, a single candle flickering between you — its flame bending and swaying with the wind. The garden was quiet, the air thick with that faint sweetness of rose and memory.

Jun leaned back in his chair, watching you instead of the stars. You didn’t notice at first how still he’d become. “I used to dream of this,” he said softly. “Of what?” “Peace.” He smiled faintly, eyes never leaving your face. “I thought I’d forgotten what it felt like.”

You chuckled, sipping your tea. “You sound like someone who’s about to give a farewell speech.” “Maybe I am.” You frowned. “Jun.”

He turned toward you, eyes reflecting the candlelight, gold and endless and unbearably sad. “You remember everything now, don’t you?” You blinked. “What do you mean?” “Us,” he whispered. “Before this life. Before this house. Before the accident.”

The words hit you like a chill. The images — faint, half-remembered — started to surface. The rain. Screeching tires. The ring glinting against the pavement. Jun’s voice calling your name, desperate, echoing. And then.. nothing.

Your throat tightened. “I- I saw flashes. I thought they were dreams.” He reached out, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch was lighter than before — fading. “They were memories. The last ones we shared before everything ended.”

You shook your head, tears already welling. “Ended? No.. we found each other again, didn’t we? You said you waited for me-” “I did,” Jun said, smiling. “Every life I remembered, I searched for you. Sometimes I found you. Sometimes I didn’t. But this time..” He paused, his voice breaking. “This time, you came back to me.”

“Then why- why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I am.” You froze. “No.”

He moved closer, cupping your face, thumbs tracing slow circles over your tears. His hands were almost see-through now — light bleeding through his fingers. “My curse was to remember every life,” he said softly. “To live them all until I learned to let go.”

“Jun, stop-”

“But yours,” he whispered, “was to forget. To live free of the pain. To start again.”

—

The moment the words left his lips, something in your chest cracked open — a white flash of pain, too bright to bear. And then..

White walls. The soft hum of machines. A dull ache at the back of your head. You blinked your eyes open and found yourself lying on a hospital bed. Your throat was dry, your body heavy. The faint rhythm of a heart monitor keeps time with your shallow breathing.

“Mingyu- she’s awake!” You turned your head weakly. Three faces came into focus — Mingyu, Seokmin, and Minghao — all hovering near your bed, eyes wide with relief. Mingyu reached out, holding your hand tightly as if grounding you.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice trembling. “You scared us.” You looked at them, confused. “What.. happened?” Seokmin’s smile faltered. “You got into an accident. You’ve been out for a few days.”

You nodded slowly, your mind foggy. But as you looked at their faces — familiar yet oddly distant — you felt something off. Something hollow. “Was anyone else with me?” you asked after a moment.

They froze. Minghao looked down at the floor, his jaw tight. “No,” he said finally. “You were alone when they found you.” You frowned, trying to recall anything — a road, a sound, a name. But your head throbbed the harder you tried. There was nothing. Just blank space.

Days passed, and you went home, that doesn’t even feel like home. You walked through your apartment, touching the furniture, tracing the edges of picture frames that held no faces. You caught your reflection in the mirror and felt the strangest ache, like someone else should’ve been there beside you. Someone who wasn’t.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you sat on your bed and whispered into the dark — not knowing why, or to whom. “Maybe it’s not about moving on,” you murmured, clutching your chest where that invisible ache lived, “but trying to remember the memories I’ve already lost.”

A tear slipped down your cheek before you even realised you were crying. You didn’t know what you were grieving — only that your heart was mourning something you couldn’t recall.

—

You sobbed, shaking your head violently. “Then why- why bring me back here? Why make me remember?” “Because you deserved to know you were loved,” Jun said, voice trembling. “Even after death. Even after forgetting. You were my heart in every lifetime, and I needed you to know that before I go.”

The candle flame flickered. His form wavered, the edges of him breaking apart like smoke. “No,” you cried, clutching his shirt — your hands passing through him. “Please, stay. I’ll remember you this time. I swear, Jun, I won’t forget”

He smiled faintly, leaning forward until his forehead touched yours. “You will. You have to. That’s how you live.” He said. You sobbed. “Then what now? What happens to us? To you” “You live,” he said gently. “You finish your book. You keep the house. You keep going.”

“As for me.. I’ll keep waiting. Like I always do.” You shook your head violently. “No. No, you can’t. You deserve to move on.” “How can I?” Jun whispered. “My heaven was you. This is my fate.. I finally have the reason to cross the afterlife for this life, Y/N.” You felt the warmth of his breath one last time as he whispered,

“Find me again, in another life, my bride” The candle went out.

Silence filled the house — that heavy, sacred kind of silence only grief can make.

You sat there long after, whispering his name into the darkness, your tears falling onto the wooden floor. When the morning light finally touched the veranda, there was no trace of him — just the faint scent of cedar and rose and the ghost of a handprint on your cheek.

And for a moment, as you looked toward the mirror inside the house, you swore you saw him smiling.

Then he was gone.

And on the bed beside you, the veil stirred gently — as if brushed by unseen hands. unheard voice.

𝐀/𝐍 ➙ and that’s a wrap!! thank you so much for reading — I hope you liked it!! we’ve still got a few more left on our 2025 kinktober prompt list, next up is jeonghan, then wonwoo. see you all soon! stay safe, healthy, and a little unhinged, loves mwaa

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 : @blssble @astraleaa @kwonxy @k4trinabluu @ateez-atiny380 @loveforred @chandaleeeee @starringhani @acphengene @yoonjeo @shininghoshstar

if you’d like to be part of my permanent taglist, feel free to drop a comment or send an ask!! I’d love to include you ❤️

[oscrp81stri]

THE "POUT"

ᯓwho☆: 𝒿unhui x reader (fluff + hurt/comfort? x fic) ᯓwhat☆: junhui's pouting, you’re apologizing, and his entire family has front-row seats to the most dramatic yet adorable argument of the year. ᯓword count☆: 651 ᯓnotes☆: junjunjun.

junhui hasn’t said a word in fifteen minutes. not one. he’s sitting across from you at his family’s dinner table, chopsticks in hand, shoulders slightly slumped, lower lip pushed out in the most tragically visible pout known to mankind. god is he dramatic.

you, on the other hand, are in panic mode. “hui, please,” you whisper, nudging his foot under the table, “i already said i’m sorry.” he doesn’t even look at you. “hm.”

“hm?” you hiss. “that’s all i get? a hm?”

he finally glances up, eyes wide and innocent like he’s not being the most dramatic man alive. “you made fun of my fashion.” he says, voice soft and wounded.

“yellow and purple don't go together! why can't you listen?!”

“i do listen! you're the one not listening to me. you never listen.” he argues quietly.

“i never listen? junhui this is ridiculou-" you stop when you realize his aunt is watching with barely disguised amusement. across the table, his dad elbows his uncle and snickers. you can feel your face heat up as you give them an awkward smile. “we’re fine,” you say weakly. “just… passionate fashion opinions.”

his mom hums knowingly but says nothing. junhui keeps pouting. you try to feed him a piece of tofu to break the tension. he doesn’t even look at it. “junhui,” you whisper again, leaning closer, “please stop being mad. i’m really, really sorry.”

he stabs at his rice. “you said you'd be embarrassed of me if i go out like that.”

“i meant i'd be endeared!” you whisper-shout, but it’s too late.

his aunt bursts into laughter. “junhui!” she exclaims, grinning wide. “stop pouting and now you apologize to your dear fiancée! don’t try to act cute!” the whole table erupts. his mom’s laughing, his cousin’s choking on his soup, and you? you’re sinking into your chair wishing for the ground to open up. junhui blinks, cheeks turning pink, caught in the act.

“i’m not pouting,” he mumbles.

“you are pouting,” his mom corrects him. “and you’ve been doing it since you sat down.”

he crosses his arms, which only makes it worse. “i just think—”

“—that your fashion choices are excellent?” his aunt interrupts, “i think we have to go with your fiancée for this one."

you can’t help it, you laugh, loud and sudden, and junhui shoots you a betrayed look that somehow makes him even cuter. “don’t laugh,” he says quietly, pouting harder.

“i can’t not laugh,” you whisper back, still smiling. “you look like a five-year-old denied candy and is regretting denying it!”

his family starts teasing him all over again, his mom saying something about how he’s always been this way, his cousin asking if this is a daily thing. junhui sighs dramatically and looks at you with the most exasperated expression imaginable.

“you see what you did?” he mutters.

you grin. “yeah. i made everyone realize how bad your fashion taste is.”

he groans, covering his face with one hand. “i’m never living this down.”

you reach for his other hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “probably not,” you whisper, “but i’ll make it up to you.”

he peeks at you between his fingers, lips twitching. “with what?”

“by letting you dress me up.” you say.

his pout softens immediately. “even though you don't like my taste?!”

“…yeah. even though i dislike it. i still like you.”

he tries to act unimpressed, but the way his hand squeezes yours back, the way he has a small smile resting on his lips, the way he's blushing, gives him away. the rest of dinner is filled with laughter and teasing. “ah,” his uncle says, grinning, “they made up already. our junhui's in love!”

you giggle and he looks at you and blushes again. you're about to get married in a few weeks, but he's still blushing about your giggles. he's definitely in love.

check out my ℳasterlist <3

[rosequartz-archive]

Pairing 🩸 Vampire Jun x Human Female OC

Synopsis 🩸 Your boss is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life, it's like he glows from within and brightens your day. But one evening after work you find him doing something that's about to change your life forever. That is, if he lets it.

Genre 🩸 Supernatural/Vampire au, angst, smut, fluff

Plot warnings 🩸everyone works in publishing, Vernon almost joins a cult (he's barely in it, but when he is, he's a menace), a brief reference to weed (Vernon), mentions of alcohol, Wonwoo being the annoying bestie is just canon in all my fics at this point, lots of references to blood (drinking it, blood play), threat (she's scared in the moment but gets over it pretty quickly), lots of literary references (Junhui, it turns out, has basically had everything to do with almost every famous literary work), I've tried to make his life historically accurate but he's almost 2000 years old so he's seen a lot, they're in love but he's refusing to accept that, heavy angst for a little while because Jun is an idiot, arguing/ bickering, Wonwoo is unhelpful (again, it's canon in every fic I write and he's in it), everything works out for them (without giving anything away), mentions of Seungkwan, Jeonghan, Joshua and Soonyoung being vampires too but we only meet Seungkwan, a car accident (mild injuries),

Smut warnings 🩸making out, fang play? (she's into the idea of him biting her), biting (with fangs), slight blood play (he tastes her), body worship, a lot of skinship? they just want to feel each other, oral f.recieving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, it's all very romantic but he does call her a pervert,

Word count 🩸 27.7k

a/n 🩸 this has been a labour of love and honestly could've been about 60k words, vampire Junhui is literally the perfect man (vampire) and I hope you like him!!

Part 2

You can describe a lot of things in this world as beautiful. The view of the sun rising across the ocean, particularly old buildings which leave your mind reeling at how anyone could build something so grand hundreds of years ago, even the sight of a star filled night. But the one thing that you think might be the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing?

That’s simple.

Wen Junhui.

You’re not even exaggerating, there’s something about him that means the only word you can truly describe him as is beautiful.

Even now as you sit in a staff meeting and he’s trying to hammer home to you all that you need to find new writers who bring something fresh and not the same old same old, he seems to glow in his beauty. You’re certain it can’t just be you that realises it, every other editor and member of staff must be able to see it too. Although maybe they just manage to tune it out, you have always been attracted to the shiny things in life and the way he seems to almost shimmer as he floats through the room means you can’t take your eyes off him for a single second.

“You’re drooling again.”

“Shut up Wonwoo.” You whisper through gritted teeth, although make a conscious effort to divert your attention away from the beauty that stands before you.

“You know you should….”

But Wonwoo doesn’t get to finish his sentence, Junhui’s attention turns to you both and even Wonwoo, who is generally unaffected by even the most disastrous of circumstances, sits up straight like a child who's just been caught doing something they absolutely shouldn’t be doing.

“Was that something you wanted to share Wonwoo?”

God, even the way he talks is like something from the past, it holds that same reverence of people centuries ago who used to speak properly and with authority, rather than the abbreviations and slang that everyone uses today. You’d once written lol (by accident) in an email to him and you’re certain you saw him getting a dictionary off his bookshelf to see what this strange word you’d emailed him meant. It’s just every single facet of him demands respect, be it his beauty or the way he holds himself, he’s a monolith in a world of pebbles and you can’t help being drawn in by him.

“Oh! Er…” Wonwoo frantically looks around the room hoping something might jump out at him, because he really can’t tell his boss that he was about to say ‘You know you should just fuck him in his office’, “_____! She has a couple of manuscripts by new authors that she hasn’t shut up about for weeks!”

Fuck you Jeon Wonwoo.

But then Junhui turns his attention to you and you’re presented with a hopeful smile that in all seriousness, you would enter a battle for.

“Is that true?”

You’re certain his skin is actually shimmering, not in that fresh glow you get when you’ve been in the sun or the mirror like hue you get after a particularly amazing facial, but it just shimmers like he’s glowing from within. You’re not even sure skincare could achieve it, it’s surely…..

“_____?”

Shit. The whole publishing department is waiting on your answer and you’re sitting deciding whether it’s moisturiser or genetics that causes your boss to be fucking ethereal.

“Sorry!” You blush, picking at the skin near your thumb nail, “I do have a couple that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but I wasn’t sure they’d be what you were looking for.”

“To be honest,” damn his smile for making it so hard to concentrate on a word he’s saying, “I don’t know what I’m looking for. We need something fresh yet…timeless, I suppose. We need something to shake up the industry, like…..”

“Like 1984 but perhaps a little less true to life?”

You’ve done it. Your life has peaked. You have made Junhui laugh, you’ve seen the wide smile that forms on that stoic face and now you’ll never get over it. And it isn’t that he’s unpleasant, he smiles to you all and wishes you a good morning, but you’ve never seen him laugh. And now you have and you think you want to have the privilege of hearing it every day for eternity.

“That’s exactly it _____, yes. If you have time this week, drop by my office and we’ll check out those manuscripts.”

Breathe _____. He’s asked you to stop by his office for work. The way your heart just leaped, you’d think he’d just gotten down on one knee and asked you to be his wife.

“O-okay,” you nod, fumbling with your notebook and pen, whilst you desperately try to play it cool.

“Very smooth.” Wonwoo murmurs as he watches Junhui start talking about publishing deadlines.

“Fuck. Off.” You poke him with your pen, enjoying the way he tries to pretend it didn’t affect him.

The rest of Thursday, after the meeting, had been derailed by Vernon. One of the writers you look after as his editor and a man so annoying that in a few years, it wouldn’t surprise you if you were doing jail time for murdering him.

He’d called you in a panic, saying his creative spark had fizzled out and he was going to join a new “collective” of artists in Nepal, where he’d smoke weed and take part in group activities that would allow his creative juices to flow freely again. So, when you’d arrived at his house by the beach and discovered exactly what these “activities” included, you informed Vernon what he was actually planning on joining was a cult.

You then had to spend forty minutes with a frantic Vernon looking over your shoulder, coming down from his last high with a whole cake on a plate because of his munchies, as you checked every email from this “collective” and rang his bank to make sure they hadn’t already taken any payments. When the leader of the cult called him, not that you realised they used phones, you always thought cult leaders would have some sort of edgy system of communication, Vernon threw the phone to you in a blind panic.

Two hours. Two whole hours of your day wasted by talking to a man named Supreme Leader John the Second (presumably Supreme Leader John the First was the first cult leader) who was adamant that now Vernon was in the collective, he couldn’t leave.

It was only when you listed just how high maintenance Vernon was (he will only eat fish on Wednesdays or every third Saturday of the month, he likes to use a mixture of mouth washes and has specific measurements for said mixing and he will only eat cookies with even numbers of chocolate chips in them because odd numbers “encourage the world’s evils”) that Super Leader John decided that Vernon probably wasn’t suited to their collective and they’d actually quite prefer it if he never contacted them again.

So, Thursday had been a write off. And for most of Friday, Junhui had been in meetings with various higher ups that didn’t concern editors like yourself. But now most of the office had gone home and you were left with two manuscripts that had landed on your desk months ago, and that you’d fallen in love with as soon as you read them. They’re by unknown authors and aren’t the usual sort of thing that this company is used to publishing. All you can do is hope that Junhui likes them, if not, you’ve got yourself all worked up over the simple act of visiting his office, for nothing.

His office sits at the end of the large open plan work area, you can’t see in it as there’s a small corridor that leads into the actual office itself, but once you’re in there it’s like a dream. You’ve only been in a couple of times but each time you’ve been awestruck by the floor to ceiling bookshelves, full of books that you can tell he’s read from how well thumbed they are, and that don’t even look out of place in such a modern building. He even had special protective films installed on the windows so the sunlight coming through the glass building wouldn't harm any of his tomes, he is literally the man of your bookish dreams.

You take a deep breath, the excitement of getting to spend one on one time with Junhui mixing with the nerves of spending one on one time with him, and knock on the door.

You don’t get an answer, maybe he’s out? Maybe he’s gone home already? It is Friday after all and a man like him must have a wealth of options of things to occupy his time with.

You risk one more knock and if you get no answer, you’ll leave the manuscripts on his desk with a little note saying that you hope he likes them.

The second knock brings no response and so you slowly enter his office, the manuscripts bearing the brunt of your nerves as the paper slightly crumples from how hard you’re gripping them.

What you find though, makes your blood run cold.

“OH!” Junhui looks at you in horror, quickly hiding the cut crystal glass he’d been drinking from and trying to wipe his mouth, “I didn’t hear you knock _____! Sorry!”

You don’t reply. You can’t reply. You just stare at the man in the fine cut three piece suit, who would look as beautiful as ever if not for the red smears around his lips, that he’s desperately trying to wipe away with a handkerchief, with wide eyes.

Your heart is pounding in your ears, you’ve never felt fear like it. Every fibre of your being is telling you to flee, to get away from him and whatever he was just doing and yet you can’t.

It’s like you’re frozen to the spot, nothing but fear pumping through you but your legs are cemented to the spot halfway between his desk and your way out of this nightmare.

“W-was,” you swallow, trying to collect your thoughts, “was t-that…..in that glass…..was it?”

You don’t finish your sentence, the reality of what it was he was drinking makes you feel like you want to vomit and if what he was drinking is what you think it is, you need to get as far away from this freak as quick as you can.

You drop the manuscripts and run, ignoring Junhui shouting after you to come back and let him explain. Explain what exactly? Why he was sitting at his desk, quite happily sipping on a glass of fucking blood like it was a fine wine to be savoured? For the first couple of seconds, you wondered if it was tomato juice or a Bloody Mary but Bloody Marys don’t leave a stain on your skin like that. Because when Junhui tried to wipe away the residue on his mouth, it smeared and stained. It smeared and stained exactly like blood.

You know you’re going to have to answer the door. You’ve seen vampire movies, nobody just sees a vampire drinking blood and goes happily about their life afterwards. And from the way Junhui has been knocking at your apartment door for the past ten minutes, your life isn’t going on happily at all.

On your drive home, which you just hope you didn’t hit any old ladies or drive through any red lights whilst you weren’t paying any attention, you did toy with the idea that he’s just a weirdo. He’s just a weirdo that drinks blood and that might’ve been something you could deal with. But then you thought about it, really thought about it. The shimmer to his skin, the way he talks like he’s from another time, literally everything about him completely juxtaposes everything that the modern man is. And you know it’s far reaching and anyone would call you insane if you tried to tell them, but you just know it, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Wen Junhui is a vampire.

He’s been gently knocking on your door, desperately pleading with you to let him explain but you’re not an idiot. You know once you open that door, you’re dead. You’ve always had good veins, every nurse that’s ever taken a blood sample has commented how wonderful your veins are and so he won’t waste any time in feasting on you. You’re certain of it.

You did try to google what wards off a vampire, but the first one was sunlight and given he’s chosen to work in a glass building, even if his office does have protection for his books, sunlight doesn’t seem to be a problem. And what is more, you’re not religious so why the fuck would you just have a crucifix around the apartment?

Yes. You have garlic but it’s surely not enough to ward off a whole vampire, there’s probably some equation whereby each foot in height equals ten bulbs of garlic and you’ve only got two bulbs, it’s not going to be enough. And sadly for you, you’re clean out of wooden stakes. So do you just resign yourself to being a sacrificial lamb to the hot vampire who you work for? Perhaps you could fight him off? You did self defence classes for like three weeks and you once made Wonwoo’s nose bleed when you accidentally punched him fighting off a bee, you have some fighting skills.

“LET ME IN OR I WILL BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN.” Junhui gets tired of trying to be nice and shouts through the door instead.

Shit. He probably could too, why he hasn’t already is a mystery to you.

You gather your things, hoping they’ll at least ward him off for a few seconds and walk slowly to the door, your hands shaking and wondering how long it’ll take someone to find you. That’s if he even leaves any of you, maybe you’ll be so delicious that he’ll just eat every last bit of you. Do vampires even eat people? Or are they zombies? He’s surely not a zombie, not with that haircut.

“Stand back!” You’d have been proud of yourself for that if your voice hadn’t broken a little.

He doesn’t say anything but then what are you expecting him to even say? He’s going to kill you either way, all you’ve done by asking him to stand back is give him a little run up to the killing. Fucking idiot.

You open the door and hold your hands in the air, hoping your choice of repellents work at least a little.

But Junhui just stands there, eyes flitting between your hands and the traces of a smirk on his lips.

“What are you holding?”

“DON’T COME NEAR ME! I MEAN IT!!!!!” You waggle your hands at him frantically.

“_____,” he bites his lips to hide his smile, “the whole crucifix and garlic thing is bullshit.”

“SO, YOU ARE A VAMPIRE?!” You jump back, your arms still outstretched. Part of you was hoping he was going to say you’ve got an overactive imagination and he’s on some sort of detox that rich people do.  

“Can…” he looks around the empty hallway, “can we talk about this inside?”

Your arms fall to your sides, you didn’t prepare for this, you thought he’d pounce but he’s treating this more like a business meeting.

What’s the point in saying no? He’s a vampire, he won’t take no for an answer anyway, you’re lying to yourself if you think you have a single thread of authority in anything going on here.

“Ok, but only if you stay right by the door. I want a good six foot buffer zone,” you wave your arms around yourself, showing him exactly where he can’t go, “do not come in this buffer area.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says smoothly and walks into your apartment.

Damn for a man who drinks blood, he really does smell fantastic, it’s like cedar with a mix of rosemary. It’s otherworldly, like nothing you’ve ever smelt before. But now isn’t the time to falter, you have an actual vampire in your apartment, it really shouldn’t matter that he smells nice.

“What do you want?”

“What did you think those were going to do?” he gestures to what you’re holding.

“Well. Garlic,” you gesture to him like it’s a given that garlic would help you ward him off, “and,” you glance down at the book you’re holding, “I’m not religious so don’t have a crucifix or bible or anything, this is the closest I had.”

“You think Mr Tumnus is going to help you fight off a vampire?” he smirks.

“The Chronicles of Narnia are based on the Bible,” you falter a little when you realise how fucking ridiculous that sounds, “it might’ve helped.”

He has just admitted that he is a vampire though, so you haven’t really got time to worry about your choice in defensive books.

“If you’re going to kill me, I won’t make it easy. I've got lots of salt.”

“You’re going to make sure you’re perfectly seasoned?” He raises an intrigued brow at you.

Fuck. So, the whole salt thing is a myth then.

“Salt doesn’t work either?”

He shakes his head, fighting off a smile.

“Oh, well then I give in,” you throw yourself on the sofa, “if it helps, my emergency contact is down as Wonwoo because he’s my oldest friend in the city, but don’t call him tonight. He has puzzle club with the old men in the neighbourhood and he hates being disturbed. You think you’re scary, you haven’t been on the receiving end of one of his lectures.”

Why can’t you just shut your damn mouth? Always have to drone on and on when you’re in a panic, like bamboozling whoever is scaring you would stop them from hurting you.

“I don’t want to kill you ______,”

“Oh please, don’t use the whole I don’t want to do this, I need to do this. I’ve read Dracula.”

“No,” he sits on your coffee table, chuckling at the ancient copy of ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’ that you thought would help and very much ignoring your six foot buffer zone, “I don’t need to kill you either. I just need to know you won’t tell anyone.”

“Like anyone would believe me if I told them my boss was a vampire.”

“You seem quite calm considering you’ve just found out your boss is a vampire.” He narrows his eyes at you.

You’re not calm. You’ve no idea what you are. All you know is that you’re having to come to terms with the fact that not only do vampires appear to exist. But the boss you’ve been crushing on for god knows how long, is one.

“There’s not much I can do. You’ll either kill me or I’ll have to keep it secret. I’m not being sectioned because you’re a vampire.” You say indignantly, desperately trying to get some kind of upper hand here.

“I don’t want to kill you _____. I’ve said that. But I need to know you’ll keep this secret. If not, I have to move on and you’ll all lose your jobs.”

Oh great. So now the job of every person who works for one of the biggest publishers in the country, relies on your ability to keep a secret. Something which famously, you’re terrible at. You’ve told your mom every secret you’ve ever been told and Wonwoo seems to have some sort of sixth sense for when you’re hiding something. He’ll sniff it out before you even enter the office.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you sigh, leaning back into the sofa, “I can’t be responsible for everyone losing their jobs. But…..can I have those manuscripts back?”

“Why?” he smirks.

Shit. He’s already them. Or one of them at least.

“I didn’t know…..I wouldn’t have…..oh god,” you groan, ignoring the little laugh that comes from Junhui.

“You wouldn’t have brought a manuscript about a vampire to your boss that happens to be a vampire?”

“How did you read it already? It’s been like an hour?”

“I can read pretty quickly.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.

You should probably ask him to leave but you’re nothing if not nosey and if you’re never going to talk about this with him again, you want to ask him what life as a vampire is really like.

“Go on.” He smiles.

Can he? Oh fuck you hope he can’t read minds. He’s being very calm for someone that will have been subjected to some pretty explicit daydreams you’ve managed to conjure up, if he can read minds.

“Can you?” you ask quietly, “read minds?”

“No,” he snorts, “you just look like you have questions and to be honest, I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“Thank god for that!” your eyes widen, “I mean not that I’ve been thinking of anything weird. You know, just worried about stranger danger I guess,” you trail off.

“Could I?” He gestures to the spot on the sofa next to you.

“Oh! Sure! Do you want a drink? Although….” What the hell do vampires drink? Thinking about it now, you’re not sure you ever have seen him drink, other than the blood he was drinking earlier.

“Any b negative?” you freeze on your way to the kitchen, “I was joking _____. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Mint tea?”

“Perfect.”

He stands up to take his jacket off and you desperately try not to think too much into the fact that you’re spending time in your apartment, with your hot boss who you’ve been pining after for ages. The fact he’s a vampire should make you want to run and bang on your neighbour’s door for help, but you feel oddly at ease with him. He doesn’t seem to mean any harm to you and the fact that if you told someone, he said his reaction would be to leave, rather than hurt you, shows he truly has no intentions of hurting you.

“Here you go,” you mumble as you hand him the steaming mug of tea and sit down on the sofa next to him.

“Thank you. You’ve quite the collection of books.” He smiles and nods over to your messy bookshelves which have far too many books than the old shelves should be holding.

“Hm,” you hum, swallowing your sip of tea, “I’m running out of space for them. I know everything is going digital and people say print is dying, but I don’t know. I just like having the physical copy, I like seeing what I’ve read and the characters I’ve known.”

You turn back to him, shocked to find a fond smile on his lips.

“What?”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself. That’s what I’m always trying to hammer home to the execs, people want the physical copies of books. I understand the ease of digital things, but I still think there’s hope for published books. It isn’t the write off they think it is.”

“Can I….Do you mind if I……”

“Ask me whatever you want ______.”

Even the way he says your name makes your body tingle and heart leap. You shouldn’t still be having this reaction to him now you know he’s basically a monster.

“How old are you?”

“1941 years old.”

“That would mean you were born in….” you try to work it out, “85? Like the year 85?”

“If you’re using the current way of counting, yes. Although I was born hundreds of years before that system came into practice, before that we just used the eras of the current rulers and things.”

“So,” You cross your legs and get comfy on the sofa facing him, not realising just how softly he’s looking at you, “where were you born? Like does that country still exist?”

“It’s still China.” He nods, “But it’s very different from when I was born there. If you’d have told four year old Junhui he’d be moving around the earth in a metal box he’d have never believed you. Or known what metal was.”

You can’t imagine what that must be like. To have seen history with your own eyes.

“Did you always live in China? Or did you just recently move?”

“Recently to you and recently to me are two very different things ______.”

“Right,” you nod, a little embarrassed.

“I’ve lived all over the world,” you look up at him through your lashes, “I’ve seen the fall of Rome, I saw people say ‘Oh Shakespeare? He’s just a phase, he’ll be forgotten in a few years’ and I’ve seen some of the worst things mankind has ever done. You tend to have to move around every few decades or so, people grow old and when you don’t,” he smiles, though you note it doesn’t seem quite as happy as he wants it to, “you need to move on, so you’re not caught out.”

“That must be lonely.”

You sip your tea and wait for an answer, but when you look at him, he’s just staring at you with an emotion you can’t quite make out.

“No-one, not that many people have ever found out about me, but no-one has ever said anything like that. Or even thought about how it must feel to live like I do. It’s not a bad thing!” He rushes to say when he sees you looking a little worried you’d said the wrong thing.

You just nod and go back to your tea.

“Do you like the Chronicles of Narnia?” He averts his eyes to your well-read copy on the coffee table.

“It was my favourite books growing up. I think I've read them all a hundred times.”

“You know,” he sips his tea like he’s saying something totally normal, “it was me that came up with the name for Aslan.”

“What?! You’re just making that up!”

“I’m not!” he laughs, putting his tea down and picking up your book, “I was studying at Oxford University, I met Clive,” you scoff at him casually calling the author of your favourite childhood book Clive, like he’s friends with him, “at a local pub by chance. I told him I was a literary scholar, and he told me about the book he was writing and how the main hero was a lion and what he represented. But he was struggling with a name, so I suggested Aslan. I’d recently been in Turkey and Aslan is Turkish for Lion. Anyway, Clive loved it and so, Aslan was born.”

You blink at him. For someone that always has so much to say, you’re utterly speechless.

“What was he going to be called before that?”

“Mr Lion.”

You throw your head back in laughter much to the joy of the vampire sat beside you.

“H-he,” you hiccup out another laugh, “he was going to call him Mr Lion?”

“Well he did have form for it. Those poor beavers never got names did they? Just Mr and Mrs Beaver.”

You freeze. He’s actually telling the truth. You thought with a response like Mr Lion, he was just joking to calm your nerves.

“You’re being serious?”

“Yes! I named Aslan!”

“That’s fucking wild.” You shake your head.

“I have a first edition, if you wanted to see it?”

“Really? I’d love that! I love old books, I’ve never dreamt of owning any, or even seeing any, but I love the history of them. How they’ve been passed down and where they’ve been to get where they are now.”

If you could read Junhui’s mind you’d know that for the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, he feels completely captivated by you. He’s had romances through his life and people he thought he loved, but he’d never told anyone else about his “condition”, and thankfully, he’d never been found out, except for a few close shaves.

Suddenly though, he’s in a situation where someone knows his secret and that someone just happens to be one of the most beautiful and endearing women he’s ever met in his long life on this earth. It’s selfish to indulge you, and he tells himself he’s only offering to show you because you seem so interested in it, but a part of him, quite a big part is selfishly doing this because he can’t help wanting to spend more time with you.

“I’ve collected quite a few interesting pieces over the years. I could pick you up tomorrow? That’s if you don’t mind coming to my place?”

“Oh.” You sit up, a little shocked. “I-I’d really like that. You don’t mind showing them to me?”

“_____, in this life I don’t get to show many people, or anyone, this part of my life. People would ask way too many questions about where I found these things. So it’d be nice to share them with someone, particularly someone who seems to hold the same reverence for these things as me.”

“Then, yes. I’d love to come to your place.”

“Perfect,” he finishes his tea and even heads to the kitchen to clean his mug, “I’ll pick you up at 10? Or is that too early?”

“No, that’s fine!” You say excitedly, showing him to your door.

“Great,” he pauses like he was going to hug you, but instead sends you a small smile and sort or taps your arm before he heads through your front door, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Bye.” You grin and wave him off.

As the door closes, your back hits it and you can’t help the huge grin on your face. You’re spending your Saturday with your hot boss, at his apartment no less. Fuck, finding out he’s an ancient vampire might’ve been the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

You’d slept pretty well for someone who’d just found out that her boss is a blood drinking vampire, but you put that down to the fact that in the excitement of the prospect of spending time with him, you’d somehow completely blocked out that he is, in fact, a vampire. And that just yesterday you walked into his office to find him casually drinking a glass full of blood.

But now you’re waiting for him to pick you up, having been ready to go for the past hour because your nerves were kicking your ass, and you can’t help but think how incredibly stupid you’ve been to get yourself into this situation. Sure, he didn’t seem like he meant you any harm. And surely if he was going to kill you, he’d have done it last night, it makes no sense to keep you alive and give you the opportunity to tell someone what you’d found out. But that doesn’t mean that you haven’t been frantically pacing your apartment since seven this morning and wondering whether this was all some kind of trap.

This could all be a ruse to lure you to his place and keep you there. Perhaps that what vampires do, they don’t kill people straight away, they do it slowly. He might be intending to just keep you locked away somewhere in his home and feast on your blood whenever the mood takes him. And yet. You still felt oddly safe being near him last night, he didn’t speak to you with any threat, he didn’t seem to want to threaten you at all. And, if it had been a date or something, you’d have been pretty pleased with how easily you both got on, the chat flowed freely and he’d even made you laugh. Which is better than the last three first dates you’ve been on.

You check your watch, it’s only been a minute since you’d last checked it but other than picking the skin near your thumb nail, a habit your mom said would get you into trouble one day, you haven’t got much else to do. Five minutes. Just another five minutes and he’ll be knocking on your door, and you’ll be going to an actual vampire’s house. That is, if he’s on time. But you’re certain vampires generally are on time, they just have that vibe around them that they’d probably be punctual. Not that you’ve met many vampires. Although you have now met one, which considerably more than most people.

A gentle knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts and you take a deep breath before you stand up. You’re excited, you can’t deny that, but it’s like the fear you feel before a first date has quadrupled because you have absolutely no idea what to expect from this. And it isn’t even that you can call it a date, he’s just asked you if you want to see his book collection because he never gets to share it with anyone. It’s more just your boss showing you something he knows you’ll like, rather than a first date with the potential for it to lead anywhere.

“Hi,” he says softly when you open the door.

“Hello”

You’re not sure why, but you were expecting him to be wearing a suit. He just always is in a suit. You certainly weren’t expecting the 1941 year old vampire to be sweats but you can’t say you’re mad about it. He looks warm. Like he’d give really great hugs and keep you safe. Shit you need to stop this, he is literally a vampire.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” you close your door and walk along the corridor with him towards the elevator.

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” you ponder, “a lot better than you’d think I would after yesterday.”

“Panic only set in this morning?” he smiles. How the hell can he read you so well? It’s not like you’ve spent a huge amount of time with him and yet this is the second time that it feels like he knows what you’re thinking.

“Sort of,” you admit, “you don’t scare me, not really. I think my imagination is scaring me a lot more than you.”

“I swear to you, I don’t mean you any harm. And,” he presses the button to the elevator, “you can ask me whatever you want to, I don’t mind. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

You just smile softly and nod, both of you entering the elevator and heading down to his car. You have questions. You have a lot of questions, but you’re probably better off waiting until you’re in private. The last thing you need is for any nosey neighbours to hear you ask where he gets his blood from and if he actually feeds off real people.

When Junhui parks in the underground parking lot of a large, luxurious apartment complex, you can’t help but feel a little stupid. You heard vampire and just presumed an old, pretty scary, mansion in the woods. Not modern luxurious apartments in the most affluent part of the city. This goes to show that all your over thinking is pointless, you’ve no real idea of what to expect from all of this other than your boss has shown you nothing but kindness since you found out this secret and you’ve spent the whole morning making assumptions about how he lives. 

Before you can even open the door, Junhui has rushed around from the driver’s side of the car and opened it for you. 

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“My mother taught me manners and I’ve never forgotten them.” 

“Your mother taught you to open a car door for people?” You challenge, hoping he sees you’re joking. 

“Well,” he grins, ushering you towards a private elevator for the penthouse complex, “no, she taught me to always let ladies walk through doors first. But I’ve adapted with the times.” 

“Is your mother still alive? Is she…..like you?” 

He pauses as he presses the button to close the door to the elevator and you worry that you’ve been too forward. Of course he doesn’t want to tell you everything about his life, he was probably just saying you could ask anything to make you less panicked. 

“She died a long long time ago now. She wasn’t like me, she never knew I became like this.” 

“I’m sorry,” you play with your sleeves, “I shouldn’t have asked something so personal.” 

You try to avert your eyes, taking a particular interest in the ceiling off the elevator but he interrupts your feeble attempts to ignore the awkwardness. 

“I said you could ask me anything you wanted. And I rarely get a chance to even acknowledge what I am, let alone speak about it. I have to lie and say my parents are back home, or they died, or whatever my current story is for the last few decades I’m in any one place.” 

“That must be tough, living so many different lives.” You nod. You struggle with dealing with one life sometimes, let alone multiple. 

“It is,” the elevator bongs and he ushers you into a large entryway, “but it’s amazing in parts. I’ve seen and done things that most people with even the wildest imagination couldn’t dream up.” 

“Like naming legendary lions?” You smile at him, handing him your coat and him hanging it up with his. 

“Exactly.” He says proudly. 

It’s only when you wait for him to put a door code in that you realise just how big this place is, just the entry way is bigger than most apartments and it’s decorated beautifully. There are a couple of modern works of art on the walls and on either side of the door are large ornate vases that are about half your height. The only other thing is an old school coat stand and shoes rack, no doubt something he bought on his travels. If you asked him about them he’d probably say something ridiculous like they belonged to an old european monarch or something. So instead you just keep your mouth shut and will yourself not to fall for the seemingly perfect vampire who’s invited you over to look at his book collection. 

“Shoes.” He looks down at your feet like your mother would if you forgot to take your shoes off in your grandma’s house. 

“Oh!” You quickly launch your sneakers off your feet, “Sorry! Do you have those like foot cover things?” 

“This is my home _____, not a museum. I just don't like shoes in the house. You don't need foot protectors and you don’t need a full hazmat suit either.” he smirks. 

“I was just checking,” you grumble, taking an active interest in the vase near the door rather than his smug face. 

He opens the door and gestures for you to go through first, his mom’s manners still at the forefront, and you slowly walk into the apartment. It’s huge, open plan and designed like something out of an architecture magazine. The walls are simple, white and clean and numerous works of art and prints line the walls. A glass staircase leads up to the second floor and you’re certain it continues up to another level after that. You’re not surprised it’s grand, he’s been alive thousands of years, he must have amassed a huge amount of wealth with that. But on the whole it just feels……..

“You don’t like it?” He must’ve noticed your slight disappointment. 

“It’s just very……normal? I-I mean not normal,” you panic, “I just mean, it looks how I thought it would before I knew what you were. Not that I think you’re any different now, I’m not prejudiced ....”

“______. Although I think this little ramble is very cute,” fuck your cheeks must be bright pink at that, “I understand what you mean. You were expecting something out of a horror movie? Or some dark dungeon where the sunlight couldn’t get me?” 

“I guess,” you shrug, “is that whole no sunlight thing not true then?” 

“None of those old myths are true. Apart from the stake through the heart, that would kill anyone. It’s pointless anyway, I can move quicker than most people can think. It’d take a miracle to actually be in the position to run a stake through a vampire's heart.”

“How quick?” You narrow your eyes at him but before you can even finish your sentence he’s gone, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

You spin around trying to find him, just to hear a cough coming from above you. You look up to find Junhui leaning against a grand piano positioned in front of the large windows on the floor above you, looking very pleased with himself. 

“H-how? What? I didn’t even see you move!!” 

In the blink of an eye he’s back beside you and again, you’d hardly seen it. It was like when you walk into a room and a spider or mouse quickly darts into a safe place. You know you’ve seen something but you can’t be sure. 

“So you can see why the whole stake through the heart is tricky.” 

“Damn, there’s not much point in me taking my stake out of my bag then.” you sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think you’d ever kill me.” He says happily, moving over to the kitchen. 

“Why?” You ask, following him and trying not to get distracted by the fact he seems to have every kitchen appliance of your dreams. 

“You just said you weren’t prejudiced. Like insulting a vampire for their stereotypes was the same as insulting any human for the stereotypes they may have about where they’re from or what they do. Nobody that kind would kill anyone.” 

“Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome,” he chuckles, “do you want a drink?” 

“It depends what it is.” 

Yes, you’re not prejudiced. But you’re entirely sure you could stomach seeing him drink blood without throwing up all over his kitchen. 

“Take your pick.” He says as he throws open the door to a fridge the size of your whole bedroom. Ok, maybe not that big but it is the biggest fridge you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“Why do you have all this if you can’t have it?” You ask as you try to decide what the hell you want to drink. Which isn’t easy when he seems to be stocking more options than your local convenience store. 

“Who says I can’t have any of it?” 

“I saw you drinking blood Junhui…” Your eyes widen, “I mean Mr……”

“Junhui is fine.” He smiles fondly at you. “And you also saw me drinking mint tea.” 

“So you can eat and drink like a human? But you still need blood?” You settle on an orange juice and close the fridge door, trying not to look at how good he looks leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded. 

“Exactly,” he nods, “I can eat and drink whatever I want, but I need a little blood each day.” 

“Do you go to the toilet then?” 

Fuck. You didn’t mean to actually ask that. How fucking embarrasing. 

“Most people would be more interested in the blood,” he beams at you once he’s stopped laughing, “but yes, I go to the toilet.” 

“Good,” you nod, taking a sip of your orange juice and wishing your brain would develop at least some kind of filter, “and the blood? You don’t……I mean it’s none of my business if you do……but do you? Feed off people?” 

“No,” he says kindly, “There are only a handful of us left in the world. Luckily my friend Seungkwan works for one of the top hospitals in the country. We move together generally although we don't see each other much. He supplies us both with blood from the hospitals he works in. In the early days,” he sighs, gesturing for you to sit on one of the stools near him, “when I’d first been changed, I did feed on humans. I couldn’t help myself, I resented what I’d been turned into. I hated humans because I still longed to be one. But, after those first few years, I realised I couldn’t change what had happened to me. And a whole generation had passed, it wasn’t the fault of the humans any more than it was mine. And so I found new methods, now it’s simple to avoid feeding on humans.” 

“How did you become like this?” Now you’ve started, you want to know as much as possible about him. 

“When I was growing up, we didn’t really have legends of vampires. There were stories of the undead living off humans to survive but nothing of actual vampires. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was coming back from a night of drinking with my friends and before I knew what had happened, I was attacked. I think they meant to kill me, to feed off me completely, but something spooked them and they fled. I was unconscious for days because of the amount of blood they’d taken but there was enough of their DNA in me that I was fine. Better than fine, I felt unstoppable. But I hated what I’d become, I hated that they took my life from me.”

“How did you know you’d become a vampire though? If you’d never heard of them? You could’ve just gotten better?” 

“Seungkwan found me. If I’m honest I think it was him who stopped me being killed but he’d never admit that. He’s always hated vampires who use their power to cause fear or hurt people. He’d been hunting down the last truly evil vampire, the one who turned me, for years. It took him another century until he did finally stop him. But Seungkwan explained everything. And then he disappeared. If he hadn’t…..If he’d have guided me in those first few years. It might’ve saved the people I hurt.” 

“It’s not your fault you reacted like that. You can’t blame yourself for what you did because of something you never asked for. That’s not fair, Junhui.” 

He stares at you with an unreadable look on his face and you worry you’ve been too forward, acted too friendly or something when he is still your boss and you do barely know each other. It just feels so unjust though, for him to have never asked to be a vampire and it’s not like he could help the fact he needed blood to survive. It’s like holding it against a baby that they need milk or an adult human for needing water. He needed blood to survive. 

“Sorry. You don’t need me to tell you that.” 

“Actually,” he smiles, “I did. Thank you.” 

It feels like if you speak now, you’ll ruin the moment. But is it even a moment? You feel like it is, the way he’s staring into your soul feels like it is. But maybe this is just him, maybe he’s always been kind and reserved and you’re only just now getting to know him. 

“So,” you break eye contact, hoping that might stop your heart hammering, “there’s only two of you?” 

“No,” he shakes his head, his smile broadening, “there’s six vampires left in total. Me and Seungkwan tend to stick together. Joshua and Jeonghan keep to themselves mostly, they’re living somewhere in the south of France and spend their time lounging around their pool and sleeping with whoever they please, masking it all behind being wealthy art dealers. And then there’s Soonyoung and Pearl….” 

“Pearl?” You squint at him, confused by the sudden name change.

“Hm,” he hums, smiling to himself, “Soonyoung’s wife. She recently decided that a truly organic way of life is the way forward and now they live in a yurt somewhere in South America. Her name changes every few decades, she’s happy I suppose, and that’s all that matters. They went through a lot together, she got changed into a vampire by the same bastard who created me. It took Soonyoung years to convince her to change him. They’d been childhood sweet hearts and were only a week off getting married when she changed. She agreed eventually, but she hated doing it.” 

“It’s romantic,” 

“It’s barbaric,” He says harshly, “to willingly change the person you love, to sentence them to eternity. I understand why she did it but I don’t condone it. It’s like giving someone hundreds of life sentences.” 

“S-sorry.” You mumble, a little taken aback by how his attitude changed. 

You’re sorry you upset him but honestly, it doesn’t seem that bad. He’s seen all the wonders of the world, he’s lived through history and he seems to have done it all with people he would consider his friends. You’re struggling to see what could be so bad, other than the whole drinking blood thing. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes, “it’s just it seems great and everything but you’ve no idea how lonely it is. Sure you make friends but they either die or you have to move away before they realise they’re aging and you aren’t.”

“Did you never meet anyone you loved?” The idea leaves a sour taste on your tongue but you’re not expecting a man who is nearly two thousand years old to never have been in love. You’re only thirty and you’ve got more ex’s than you’d care to admit to. 

“I did,” he says somewhat shyly, “and it isn’t like I live like a nun, I sleep with people,” you try not to grimace at that admission, “but I always have to hold myself back, I can’t be myself around them and so it never lasts.” 

“You’ve never told any of them?” Why you feel a little smug about that, you don’t know. It’s not like he’s willingly told you, you literally walked in on him drinking blood. He could hardly deny it. 

“Nope,” he says standing up, “only you. Now, do you want to see all my cool stuff?” He says, raising his brows like he’s trying to entice you into something but all you’re trying to do is forget the ‘only you’ he tacked onto the end of his last answer, and tell yourself that it doesn’t make you special. 

“I’d love to” you recover. 

“Great, follow me.” 

“This is all,” you stare at the portrait of Junhui, standing beside who he tells you is DaVinci, “I don’t even know what to say.” 

You stare around the room in wonderment. The whole top floor of his penthouse is dedicated to everything he’s collected over the years. He had to put in about four sets of codes to open the door. Not that it looks peculiar from the outside, it looks like the top floor of any other fancy home would, perfectly painted walls, ornate furniture and large wooden doors. But it’s all just a facade, only one of the doors is real and behind the real one is treasures that you’d never thought you or anyone would ever see. 

So far he’s shown you Ernest Hemingway’s lost suitcase which he swears he had nothing to do with actually stealing, he just happened to be at a bar in Paris when the man who had stolen it was boasting about it and how that man had then very sadly lost it. When Junhui had tracked down Earnest, as he called him because obviously he seems to know everyone personally, Earnest had said he didn’t want it back, it added an air of mystery to his name that would help his name and works be remembered far more than just the literature he’d had published. And so he forgot Junhui had ever told him he’d found it and Junhui now holds one of the most looked for mysteries in modern literature. 

He has Shakespeare manuscripts, which apparently “Will” had given Junhui himself as thanks for helping him get home in time for his wife’s birthday. The way he spoke about him like he was just some friend that he’d lost touch with, chuckling to himself as he told you stories about how they’d meet up after performances and argue about which actor made the best Hamlet or whether the Globe was looking a bit shabby. 

Looking through his bookcases was like looking through history, like seeing every character you’ve ever loved and known in their earliest form. No editing or altering that may have happened over the years. Your bookcases when you get home will look pretty shit when you walk in and you’re confronted with your battered copies of all his treasures. 

“You’ve seen history. Like, you’ve seen words being created. Shakespeare invented almost 2000 words you know, or at least made them popular. And you were there, it’s just so……I don’t know…..big?” you look up at a bookshelf, eyes widening when you see what looks like an ancient, probably original written copy of Journey to The West. 

You’ve spent the past hour, when you weren’t listening to Junhui telling you the stories of his life, wandering round the large room like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. And it is the greatest thing you’ve ever seen. But Junhui, he’s seen a lot of great things. But he thinks the greatest thing he’s ever seen in his whole long life is you in this room. The way you get excited when you spot something that you can’t believe you’re seeing, or the way your eyes widen every time he mentions someone in history that always sounded more like another book character than a real person. 

He’d always thought you were beautiful, your whole aura lights up even the most boring of meetings and on the few occasions he’d spoken to you, he thought you were completely endearing. He did wonder whether there was something going on between you and Wonwoo. But then he saw Wonwoo put you in a headlock one day when you were arguing over who got the last piece of the brownie you’d bought, and that put the end to that idea. There was nothing romantic in that headlock. Or the way you bit his arm to get out of it. It didn’t matter anyway. Junhui made the decision long ago that he would never start a relationship with anyone, too many people get hurt. And he knew if he started something with you, it wouldn’t and couldn’t be a one time thing like so many of the flings he’s had over the past few centuries. 

But then you caught him drinking blood and when he’d found you (having found your address by hacking the HR records he knows he shouldn’t have been looking in), the way you’d tried to fight him only warmed his heart. He saw your books, he felt how kind and warm you were with someone that you should’ve been scared of and he couldn’t help himself. He told himself this was just because he knew you’d appreciate everything he’d collected over the centuries, and that he was just excited to show someone everything, that wasn’t Seungkwan. Who had as much interest in this stuff as a bollard. 

But he was playing with fire. And he knew it. 

“He invented most of the words he’s credited for.” 

He waits for you to realise what he’s said. And like clock work you freeze and whip around to face him. 

“You didn’t invent words,” you scoff, “did you?” you ask slowly.  

“Radiance.” 

You stare at him. He invented a whole fucking word and he says it like it’s nothing? Sure, people have invented new terms before when new things are invented. But radiance is just an everyday word. Everyone knows it and everyone uses it. 

“You invented the word radiance?” 

“Mm-mm,” he nods, “Will wanted a word in All’s Well That Ends Well to describe the beauty of someone, and I thought about the fact it brings light when you’re around someone you love. Anyway, radius is Latin for beam. But you’re radius sounds almost insulting. So I suggested radiance and all’s well that ends well.” He shrugs, laughing at his own joke. 

“Who were you thinking of when you invented it?” It’s none of your business, you don’t know why you’re asking, but you can’t help wanting to know and your mouth moves quicker than your head. 

“No-one in particular. I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone who made me feel that way.”

“Didn’t?” You glance at his lips. 

“Yeah. Didn’t.” He glances down at yours. 

The air suddenly feels like you can’t breathe, there’s something drawing you to him even though you know you should be scared of him. But he must feel it too, he hasn’t moved away or broken the moment and yet neither of you move closer. It’s like you’re stuck in your place but wishing that he’d take the initiative and do what you want him to. You daren’t, you don’t know whether it would spark something fearsome in him. Although the idea of him biting you makes you weirdly excited but you try to push that thought to the back of your mind. 

The sound of the buzzer for his elevator breaks you out of the moment, both of you jumping at the sound and crashing back down to reality. 

“That’ll be the food,” he rushes off, “you take your time up here, I’ll get the food and plates. I’ll shout you when it’s all sorted.” 

“Ok.” you say quietly, watching his back as he rushes off out of the room. 

He felt it. You’re sure he did. But you don’t want to bring it up and ruin whatever this is and so you go back to pursuing his bookshelves. Every other find makes you more shocked than the last but you can’t shake what just happened and the moment you just shared. Because you are certain it was shared. It can’t have just been you that felt it. 

About ten minutes later and you hear him bellowing from two floors below you. Clearly he’s not just got it in him to be quick but also damn loud too. 

“That copy of To Kill A Mockingbird,” you start as you hop down the last two steps, feeling weirdly at home in this penthouse you’d never been in until today, “it’s not actually signed is it? Harper Lee barely signed any copies. If you were in Europe, how do you have a signed copy?” 

He beams at you from the sofa as you wander over, your stomach growling at the sight of the noodles he’d ordered. He’s set it up on the coffee table so you can both sit on the floor to eat just like you would at home. It’s pretty easy to forget he’s a blood drinking vampire when he acts like any other person you know. 

“I’ve lived in every country in the world at some point _____. And I met Harper when I was working at NASA. I went to Alabama to visit a friend, who happened to be friends with her and she was kind enough to sign a copy for me when I said I collected literature.” 

You gawk at him, the drink he’d poured you half way to your mouth. But to be perfectly honest, you’re just pleased you haven’t dropped it all over yourself. 

“N-nasa……..you met…..WHAT?!” 

He tries not to laugh at you, if he’s honest he just wants to squeeze your cheeks because you’re so fucking cute, but he doesn’t. 

“I was helping with the dimensions and initial plans for the rocket. Leonardo,” you huff at how he just references DaVinci like an old friend, “had a keen interest in aviation and he told me about some screw that could withstand high amounts of pressure, hundreds of years ago. I wrote to NASA, obviously not telling them where I'd learnt it, and they asked for my help for a month or so.” 

“I thought I was cool because I went to school with a girl who has ten million followers on Instagram but shit,” you lean back against his sofa staring at the noodles. 

“Hey, things change and what’s cool changes.” he shrugs, moving your noodles in front of you. 

“Oh please, I bet you don’t even know what Instagram is and working on a rocket that went to the moon beats followers every day of the week.” 

“I do know what it is, thank you very much,” he smiles as you both pick up your chopsticks, “and I will admit. The rocket is pretty cool.” 

“And yet you didn’t know lol when I put it in that email?” You challenge playfully. 

“Yeah, you did catch me off guard with that. How did you know?” 

“Oh!” Shit. You can’t tell him that a large part of your day is spent watching him. And another large part is spent fantasising about what you’d do if you ever found yourself alone with him, “I just happened to look over as you checked the email on your phone, that’s all.” 

You shove the noodles in your mouth as quickly as you can, trying to ignore how he seems to be watching you as you do, clearly not believing a word you said but he lets it go. 

“Did you see the Austen?” 

“Oh my god,” you wipe your mouth, hurriedly swallowing the food you were chewing, “yes! I can’t believe you have that! I never thought I’d see that, all three volumes of Pride and Prejudice. Well. First Impressions.” You pause, thinking about what you’ve just said, “if you’re about to tell me that it was you that made her change the name I think I will actually explode or something.” 

“I’m not,” he laughs, taking a sip of his drink, “but I did meet her once.”

“What was she like?” You ask excitedly.

“She was headstrong,” he nods fondly, “but. She was sad, mostly. She seemed like she never really got what she wanted in life, like she was living through the women in her stories. But she was kind and clever, and told Seungkwan to stop being so moody when his horse had eaten his hat, so she’ll always be a hero in my eyes.” 

“I’m pleased she was kind.” you sigh, “I always loved her books.I’m not sure I’d cope if I found out she was this awful human being that everyone hated,” 

“Do you know who was a weirdo?” 

“Who?” you ask, like he’s about to tell you some juicy gossip. 

“Mary Shelley. Have you ever heard the story of…….”

“That she lost her virginity on her mother’s grave. Yeah, I've heard it but it can’t be……” Your words trail off when you see his face. “NO?!” 

“Yep,” he nods, like he hates talking about it but loves it at the same time, “it’s true.”

“It wasn’t……you?” 

“NO!!” He looks horrified, “It was Percy! Thank god they married each other. Pair of odd bods.” he shivers like the memory of them disgusts him. 

“What the hell possessed them to do that?” You grimace. 

“Fuck knows but they were pretty proud of it. He was married at the time too. Which in my opinion just makes it all so much worse. Those two caused chaos.”

“You don’t have Frankenstein then?” You chuckle, going back to your noodles. 

“Oh I do, it’s a first edition, signed and everything. But it’s right up at the top where I don’t have to see it and be reminded of how much she scared me.” 

“A vampire? Scared of a normal woman?” 

“She was weird ok!” He laughs defensively. 

You eat pretty quietly after that. Both of you quite content in each other’s company. The rest of the day is spent looking through more of his collection, him showing you coins and little treasures from every country and era he’s lived through, even describing exactly what it was like when they finally finished the great wall of China after centuries of work. But you don’t remember much after he awkwardly asked you if you wanted to watch a film, neither of you wanting to say goodbye just yet, because you fell asleep. Not a care in the world for the fact that you’d managed to well and truly fluster Junhui, when your head landed on his shoulder, for the first time in almost two thousand years. 

The sound of pots and pans clanging around stir you awake from an absolutely bizarre dream in which you had to stop Wonwoo from fleeing with Jane Austen because she’d already said she’d marry you, even though gay marriage was hundreds of years off being made legal. It had ended pretty abruptly when presumably Junhui had moved a pan pretty heavily. But in your dream you’d pushed Wonwoo in front of a moving carriage because there was no well in hell he was taking your girlfriend. 

You’ve no idea how and when you made it into this overly comfortable bed but you admit you’re in no rush to get out of it. Even in your clothes you’d arrived in yesterday, it’s still the most comfortable you think you’ve ever been in your whole life. But the smell of bacon draws you from your need to stay in the cocoon you’ve made for yourself and you begrudgingly get out of the bed.

Before you can even start to worry about the fact you’re imposing on his hospitality, not that you’d intentionally fallen asleep on him and presumably, if he was uncomfortable, he’d have woken you up and said it was time for you to go, you find a set of folded clothes, a note and even some toiletries. 

Good morning! Or good night, depending on when you wake up. When you’re ready, I’ll cook us some breakfast. I’ve left some comfy clothes and some stuff to freshen up with (if you want to of course). Hope you slept well. 

Junhui

Fuck, you really want to not read too much into the fact he’s lending you clothes and he doesn’t seem mad that you’d taken up one of his spare rooms, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel all giggly because he seems quite happy to have you here. 

You shower and brush your teeth with what he's left you, not surprised that he’s left you only the best products on the market and quickly dry your hair once you’re in his sweat pants and t-shirt, noting that the t-shirt reads ‘I love books and I tolerate you’, and rush down the stairs. You get the impression you could spend years with Junhui and still not know everything about his life but damn you’ve enjoyed getting to know him. And even when he asked about your life, he seemed genuinely interested, like what you were telling him wasn’t the same old story he’s probably heard a thousand times before. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings but you find the stairs pretty quickly and speed down them, slowing slightly at the bottom then he doesn’t think you’re over eager. You find him in the kitchen, where you presumed he was from the smell of bacon and clattering of pans, this time in shorts and hoody and once again looking like he’d give the best, most snuggly hugs. Not what most people would think of if they were spending time with a vampire but there’s just something about Junhui that seems to scream comfort to you. 

“Good morning.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous. 

“Hey!” He smiles, spinning round with the pan, “I hope I didn’t wake you. All these years on the planet and I’ve still not mastered cooking really. Many have tried but I’ve still burnt the bacon.” he frowns into the pan. 

“It’s fine. I like crispy bacon,” you grin at him, sitting on one of the stools when he tells you to sit down and it shouldn’t be long, “thank you for leaving these clothes out. And I’m sorry I fell asleep, I hope I’m not intruding. I will be out of your hair soon and I’ll wash these and bring them to work tomorrow.” You say happily, pouring yourself some apple juice he’d decanted into a jug.” 

“Are you in a rush to get home?” He winces when rather dark bacon lands on the plate in front of you.

“Not really,” you shrug, “but I’m sure you have plans and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“I do have plans,” he mumbles as he sits down next to you, “but I wondered if you wanted to come with me?” 

“Sure.” you say, trying to eat the bacon without him noticing just how hard it is to chew. 

“You don’t want to ask what we’re doing?” He jokes. 

Shit. Now he thinks you’re over eager. But do you even care? You like him, he seems to like you, why shouldn’t you show him that you enjoy spending time with him? 

“Sorry, sure, what were your plans?” 

“There’s an exhibition of ancient Chinese literature at one of the galleries, I was hoping to check it out.” 

“Compare your ancient Chinese literature with theirs?” You smirk knowingly. 

“Exactly. And we could get dinner? If you’re not bored of me of course.” 

“Junhui, I think if I found the hot vampire boss boring, then there’s no hope for me.” 

You go back to buttering a slice of toast before you even realise what you’ve just said but when you do, your horror stricken eyes meet his wide smile. 

“I-I didn’t mean…….wait no I’m not saying you’re not hot……oh god” you groan, hiding your head in your arm. 

“Hey, I’ll take it. It’s not every day a sexy older woman calls you hot.” 

You drop your toast. One because Junhui just called you sexy. But mainly because, what the hell does he mean ‘older woman'?! 

“Older woman? You’re almost two thousand years old!” 

“Yeah but when I was changed I was only 28. So technically you’re a cougar.” 

“That would suggest this is something more than friends?” 

He freezes, like he hadn’t thought this through but you just put that down to the fact that he’s not used to this. He said he’s only used to one night stands and things, maybe the beginnings of a relationship are odd to him after all this time. 

“You done?” He stands up, taking his plate over to the dishwasher. 

“I am,” you smile happily following him over and helping him clean up, “could we stop by my place so I can get changed?” 

“You don’t want to go out in my t-shirt?” he smirks at you, “I’m insulted _____.” 

You giggle, like joking and eating breakfast with Junhui is the most natural thing in the world. You could get used to this, and now you’ve made it clear that you like him, and he seems to like you too all you feel is excitement for what’s to come. The day passes in a blur of laughter and Junhui being very smug that some of the “ancient relics” were actually reprints that no-one has noticed, before you have dinner under the stars at an open top restaurant and he drops you home. Now having the courage to hug you, not just awkwardly pat your arm like he did two days prior. And you go to sleep full of happiness and excitement for this flourishing relationship. 

For the past month you’ve spent every weekend with Junhui. Even at the office you message each other and on a couple of occasions he’s eaten lunch with you and Wonwoo. They both discovered they have a shared interest in comic books and you started to worry that Junhui would kick you to the curb and decide Wonwoo was the one for him. 

Wonwoo nearly fell to his knees and proposed when he visited Junhui’s apartment one night after work and he saw he has every edition of his favourite series. Junhui hasn’t told him he’s a vampire and thankfully the comic books are in his TV room, so Wonwoo just thinks the top floor is more bedrooms and has no idea that Junhui is hoarding some of the world’s greatest treasures up there. You're certain Wonwoo genuinely wouldn't care if Junhui casually told him he was a vampire, he's the most laid back man you've ever met. It’d be a quick “cool, about those comic books" and he'd never mention it again. 

But up until you Junhui had never told anyone. And he only told you because he had to. So you don't want to push it. 

You did worry that you were spending too much time with him, that you were over staying your welcome whenever you went over to his place. But it was almost like he was actively finding reasons for you to stay and, most of the time, he was messaging you first and finding more and more reasons to talk to you. Not that you minded. You could spend every waking second of the day with him and never get bored. 

But there was one thing that was playing on your mind. You didn’t know what this all was. It felt like the beginnings of a relationship, at times it felt like it was a relationship, he would always make sure you’d eaten and wish you good morning or good night, you felt like you were going on dates. 

They definitely felt like dates. But then he’d never even held your hand or made any attempt to kiss you or anything. Though you’re certain he wants more, every time you find yourself saying goodbye to each other, he spends more time looking at your lips than he does looking you in the eye. It cannot just be friends. You can't have gotten it so wrong that he thinks this is just friendship. 

It’s annoying you but you’re trying to be understanding. There’s presumably so many different things he has to think about to even be around humans the way he is. He must always feel a constant urge to bite, to taste blood and you don’t want to make that worse for him. And so at the moment you’re content to just see where this goes, you love spending time with him and he seems to love spending time with you, what more do you even need right now? 

A message flashes up on your screen as you’re editing, the sight of Vernon’s name making your stomach drop.

Vernon: OH MY GOD WE ARE GOING TO HAVE SO MUCH FUN 

You: What are you talking about? I’ve told you Vernon, I’m not getting high with you 

Vernon: Not that. The book retreat!! I can’t believe you agreed to it, honestly your bosses seemed dubious but Junhui just told me!! Thank you for saying yes, me and my creative juices need this. Fuck three months in Peru!!!! Get packing bestie!!!!!!

You stare at your screen. What the fuck is he talking about? He’s high. He must be. Because there’s no way the company would allow that long an extension for him or his juices. And three months? Away from home? And what the hell is in Peru that’s going to make him write anymore than his creative trip to Thailand or Alaska. 

This whole thing seems like bullshit but the one thing that’s making it worse? “Junhui just told me”. Does he agree with this? He wants you gone for three months? But you were just sat daydreaming about the date he has planned for the weekend. He was going to take you to see some gardens that he’d found years ago that have the rarest flowers in Asia. And yet now you find out he’s shipping you off to Peru? 

This isn’t right. Before you can even re-read the messages again to make sure what you’ve read is right, you’re carried through the office on a wave of anger and hurt, and within seconds you’re knocking on the door to Junhui’s office. You don’t even wait for him to say come in, what’s the point, it’s not like you can find him doing anything worse than the last time walked into his office. 

You find him reading through a manuscript but he puts it down pretty quickly when he sees you. 

“Hey! I didn’t hear you knock, sorry I was miles away in this……”

“I knocked.” You interrupt, not liking him insinuating that you hadn’t. 

“I didn’t say you didn’t knock _____.” He frowns, he's never seen you pissed off. It doesn't suit and he doesn't know what he's done to cause it, but he hates it. 

“You’re sending me away?”

Junhui stands up, not having realised Vernon would open his big mouth already. 

“I’m not sending you. Vernon asked could you go with him, he said he needed you to keep him out of trouble.” 

“So you’re sending me away?” You press again. 

“_____ this is your job.” He sighs, walking around his desk and leaning against it in front of you. 

“He’s been on hundreds of writer’s retreats and I’ve never had to go then! Why do I have to go now? I’d be gone for three months! You’d be ok with that?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be ok with that?” 

You stare at him, the only thing you feel is your heart cracking and your finger frantically picking the skin near your thumb nail, because at the moment, it’s the only thing reminding you that this isn’t all a nightmare. And sadly is your reality. 

“Because we’re…….we’re,” you want to say because we’re a couple but now you just feel fucking stupid for even letting yourself think that. 

“We’re friends _____. Friends can go three months without seeing each other.” 

“Friends? We call everything over the past month being friends?!” 

“Nothing’s happened between us _____. I’ve never given any inclination that it was more.” He says it kindly, too kindly. Like he’s rehearsed this or something. 

But all you feel is panic. You can’t have gotten this so wrong? You know what you felt and you know that he felt it too! You’ve seen him speak to multiple women in this office, he never talks to their fucking lips, he doesn’t even spend time with them more than he actually has to. 

But then has all this just been because you know about him? That you’re the only person who’s ever found out he’s a vampire and he’s felt like he had to be kind to you to make sure you didn’t tell anyone? He’s just been tolerating you because he didn’t want you to blow his secret. It cannot be that. You can't fake how happy he was when you were together. 

“That’s not true,” you say quietly, staring anywhere but at him, though maybe if you did you’d see the pain in his eyes, “I know what I feel Junhui. Has this all been a lie? You don’t even like spending time with me?” You look at him, his heart breaking when he sees tears welling in your eyes. 

“I do like spending time with you _____. Like I would any other friend. STOP DOING THAT!” He makes you jump when his voice suddenly raises and there’s an anger in it you didn’t think you’d ever hear from him. 

You glance down at where his eyes are fixed but all that’s there is your hand. You weren’t doing anything to warrant that outburst. 

“So you want me to go? For three months?” You ignore his anger and demand an answer. 

“I want you to do your job,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead, “he needs to get this novel finished and you’re going with him. End of discussion.” 

“You can’t just do that! You’d throw this away, you’d…….”

But before you can finish your sentence you feel like all the air has been knocked out of you as your back hits the office wall, Junhui painfully close to you caging you in. You say Junhui, this isn’t your Junhui, it’s not the man that two weeks ago tried to make you cupcakes and failed spectacularly. 

No, this Junhui could only be described as a monster. His face is so close to yours but you feel no warmth, his breath is like ice and when you focus on his face, your blood turns as cold as he is. His eyes are blood red, almost shimmering in their sockets, his skin pale and with fangs that send a wave of horror through your body. 

His breath is ragged and even though you try to wiggle out of his hold, whimpering slightly at how the man you thought you were falling for has turned into something from your nightmares, he stops you, his body rigid against yours like a tonne weight, not a normal man. 

“J-junhui, please,” you whimper, trying to push him off but he just stays staring at you like you’re his next victim, “you said you d-didn’t do this. This i-isn’t you Junhui.” 

“You don’t know who I am,” he spits, no care in his voice, not like there used to be, “I told you to stop fucking doing that, why can’t you listen?!” 

You glance down at your hand, every inch of your skin prickling and yet a numbness over takes you when you see what he's talking about. 

Blood. 

Your blood. 

Where you’d been frantically picking at the skin near your thumb, a habit your mom always said you should stop and now it’s going to be the thing that drives Junhui to do something he hasn’t done in centuries. You get the sudden urge to run, to bolt out of this office and never look back and yet it’s like your feet are cemented to the spot. It’s not like you could move anyway, he’s got you trapped. 

He’s got you trapped as blood trickles down your thumb and you get the impression that he’s not going to be able to hold back much longer. 

“I’m sorry,” you cry softly, trying to wipe your thumb on your skirt, “I didn’t m-mean to. Please Junhui, this is me, it’s _____, you can’t do this. You haven't hurt anyone in years! You said you regretted ever hurting anyone!”

“But they,” he takes a deep breath, almost thriving off the scent of your fresh blood, causing you to whimper and try to cling to the wall, “didn’t walk in here demanding things and not doing as they were told.” 

The way he’s speaking, the way he’s leering at you, it’s like being in the worst horror film you’ve seen. Only normally when Wonwoo makes you watch those, you can cover your eyes and pretend you’re not there. But you are here. And you can’t get away from the monster in front of you. 

“I-I didn’t demand. I got it wrong, I was wrong. I’ll go to Peru. I’ll go wherever you want me to. Just please Junhui, let me go.” You plead, tears streaming and body shaking. 

“You’ve ruined everything you know,” he hisses with his head in your neck, his lips just millimeters away from him getting everything he needs and you never taking another breath, “I was happy. Or as happy as I could be and then you,” his teeth graze your skin, “you come barging in here and fuck my life up. And now you try to tell me this isn’t me?” his teeth stop, the tips of fangs weighing on your skin, “This is why you shouldn’t be here. I can’t be in a relationship, I can’t give you what you think you want, this is me _____. This is my reality the second I let you in too far and you suddenly hurt yourself or fall and graze your knee. This,” his teeth scrape down your skin as you sob and try to lean away from him, “is the reality of your life if you don’t fucking leave me alone.” 

You can’t even speak, your breathing is heavy, your body is quivering in fear. It would only take a second and he’d taste you, he’d kill you. 

“Get out, get out of the office. Out of the fucking building. Just don’t come back in before you leave with Vernon.” 

He turns away from you and your heart breaks. You caused this. He told you to stop and you didn’t. 

“I-I’m sorry Junhui, please………”

“GET OUT!!!”

You flinch and rush off out of the office. Ignoring the confused stares from your co-workers and how Wonwoo is already making his way over to you. You just grab your coat and bag and sprint out of the building not even able to decide if you’re more hurt by him dismissing the past month or relieved that you’ve managed to get away from him before he did something that he’d regret and you wouldn’t have survived. 

Junhui can’t concentrate. Even with heightened senses and rocket-like reflexes, he’s been reading the same manuscript for three days and not a single word is making any sense to him. He’s never felt like this, sure he’s probably felt like this but if he has, he doesn’t remember it. He’s had hundreds of people in his life die, it’s just the circle of life, people are born and people die. When his mother died, he was distraught but even that didn’t feel like this. She was old and it was her time and although it broke him, he could make sense of it. 

But he can’t make sense of what he’s feeling at the moment. 

It’s been three days since he told you to leave the office and not come back until you’d been away with Vernon. And for three days he’s felt pain like he’s never felt before. His chest aches and he hasn't eaten, even Seungkwan dropped by yesterday when Junhui hadn’t been to collect his usual supply of blood. Seungkwan was expecting a lot of things when he made it to Junhui’s apartment but his friend of almost two thousand years, crying and watching sad movies was definitely not one of them. He told him everything, poured his heart out and Seungkwan’s response? “You’re a fucking idiot.” 

But that’s easy for him to say, he seems to be able to have relationships for a few years and then carry on like nothing ever happened. Junhui couldn’t do that. Not with you. In the month you’d be in his life fully, not just as an employee, he’d fallen in love with you. He knew he had because he’d never felt like this in his life. He just wanted to be around you all the time, the sound of your laugh made even his cold heart warm and when you talked about what you loved, it just made him hope that one day, you’d look like that when you spoke about him too. 

A week ago he nearly kissed you. You’d been at his place, not even doing anything exciting, just sitting on his sofa, your feet tucked under his leg as you both sat reading. He’d noticed you had a habit of telling him the little excerpts of what you were reading that had made you laugh or meant something to you and, in his opinion, that was one of the most intimate things you could do. To want to share even the smallest of things that made you feel even the smallest emotion showed him just how much you cared about his opinion but also showing him that you want him to see what’s important to you, even if it’s the littlest of things. 

The sun setting behind you as you giggled quoting the line of your book, you just looked so radiant that it took everything in him to not throw caution to the wind and finally kiss you, just like he’d wanted to do when you were trying to fight him off with The Chronicles of Narnia. 

But that night served as a warning. He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t let himself be tempted no matter how much he felt like he needed you. How would he go on for eternity when you’d gone? He wasn’t scared of stopping loving you when you grew old, he knew he’d love you no matter how old you got, you’d still be you. But what would happen to Junhui? Once he’d given you everything and he had to go on forever knowing his one true love would never be with him again. 

So when Vernon was moaning about writing retreats he saw an opportunity to get you away from him for a while. The idea hurt him, it is hurting him, but it would hurt more in the long run and it would give you a chance to meet someone else, to live your life without having to deal with everything that comes with him being a vampire. You deserved to live and to be happy and he knew at some point, he’d end up hurting you. 

Though he’s not sure any of that would even matter anymore, you’d surely never want to see him again even after you’ve come back in a few months time. The fear in your eyes when you saw the worst side of him will stay with him forever more, the tears and way you flinched away from him broke him. He’s not even sure why his reaction was so visceral. He can be around blood, over the centuries he’s perfected his self restraint meaning that he can be around even the worst injuries. But that one small tear on your skin triggered something in him that he hasn’t experienced in over a thousand years. Seungkwan said it was probably how the mixture of needing to send you away, the reality of sending you away and how the confusion he was feeling at loving someone, truly loving someone, was playing with his emotions. That one drop of blood was the straw that broke the camel’s back and the end result was him terrifying the last person on earth he’d want to hurt. 

You’d tried to call him. Though he’s no idea why. He’s no idea why you even said sorry to him before you ran out of his office. It was him who should’ve been apologising, not you.

A knock on his office door shakes him from his thoughts and for a few hopeful seconds he thinks it’s you, that you’ve resorted to barging into his office again just like last time because he’s ignoring your calls. But who is he kidding? You won’t want to be in the same room as him again. Not now. 

“Come in!” He didn’t think anyone was left in the office, let alone needing to speak to him. 

“What the fuck have you done to her?!” 

“Wonwoo? What? Done to who?” Junhui stands up and marches round his desk as Wonwoo storms into his office. 

“Oh come on, you know who. Last time I saw her she was running out of here, crying and fucking terrified! And now she won’t answer her phone, she won’t open her door. That isn’t _____!! What the fuck did you do?! I swear if you’ve hurt so much as a hair on her head, I’ll fucking kill you!!”

“I wouldn’t hurt her!” 

Wonwoo scoffs, so close to Junhui that he can feel his breath against his skin, fists clenched like he’s ready to fight. 

“Oh so it’s just a coincidence that she runs out of your office and now she won’t talk to anyone? You’ve done something. I know you have. I really thought you were better than this, all those fucking months she’s been hoping something would happen and you’ve broken her!!”

So you’d liked him longer than he even knew? Fuck that just makes him feel even worse. You liked him and even when you found out the worst secret you could, it still didn’t change your opinion on him. All it does is confirm you’re everything he thought you were and more, to not let even something like what’s wrong with him affect your opinion of him, just shows what a remarkable woman you are. He just hopes Wonwoo isn’t right. He hopes he hasn’t broken you. 

He racks his brain for how to get out of this but all he can think to do is tell the truth. It would mean telling someone else and someone else knowing his secret, another chance that his life as he knows it would come crashing down. But Wonwoo isn’t going to let this go and the last thing he needs is someone saying he in some way is a man who would harm a woman, or anyone for that matter. 

“Sit down.” 

“Fuck off. What did you do to my friend?!” 

“Wonwoo!! Sit. Down.” 

Wonwoo must sense some sort of danger in Junhui’s eyes because he actually does as he’s told and sits down. For once in his life. 

“I don’t know how to start.” Junhui sighs, hoping the ceiling might have some answers. 

“I don’t care where you start, just get to the part where you hurt _____ and then I can try and fix it.”

“When she came to show me the manuscripts that you’d mentioned in the meeting…..”

“That was ages ago,” Wonwoo interrupts angrily, “I want to know what’s happened now!”

“You will! Just listen to me! Please!” 

Wonwoo just glares, his arms folded and waiting to hear what any of this could have to do with what’s wrong with you. 

“When she came in, I didn’t hear her knocking. When she found me I was,” he sighs, knowing with every admission of what he is, he risks a little more of his safety, “I was drinking blood.” 

Wonwoo just stares at him and Junhui wonders if he actually said it out loud. It sounded like he said it outloud. But Junhui imagined a lot of reactions. Wonwoo just having a blank face was not one of them and it’s unsettling him to be honest. 

“Did you…..”

“I heard you,” Wonwoo booms with nothing but disdain, “what does that have to do with what happened three days ago?” 

“You’re not going to ask why I was drinking it?” 

“To be honest, I don’t give a flying fuck. I want to know what it has to do with _____.” 

“I’m a vampire.” He says bluntly. 

“Well I would hope so if you’re drinking blood. At least it means you’re not a weirdo.” 

Junhui just stares at him. How can one man be so indifferent to finding out that not only do vampires exist, his boss and new found friend is one? Junhui could only dream of being that easy going. You’d told him that Wonwoo was a chill guy. But there’s being a chill guy and then whatever the fuck Wonwoo is.

“That’s all you have to say?” 

“What do you want me to say? I don’t care what you are, man, I just want to know what’s happened to my best friend!” 

“I said she needed to go with Vernon for three months to Peru.”

“As what? Punishment for her finding out? You only started hanging out after she found out, why has something happened now?”

“Fuck, it’s better starting from the beginning,” Junhui sighs, throwing himself on the sofa next to Wonwoo, “she ran off when she saw me and when I got to her place, she tried to fight me off with garlic and The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe.” Junhui smiles fondly at the memory. 

“That woman,” Wonwoo shakes his head with a look of either disdain or disbelief, possibly a mixture of both Junhui thinks, “she has no fight or flight skills. She did self defence for like two weeks and decided she’d just negotiate out of a dangerous situation and that fighting wasn’t for her.” 

Junhui can’t help but smile to himself, even through the pain. He can imagine you in the classes, deciding there and then that it wasn’t for you, even remembering how you’d tried to negotiate a safety buffer between the two of you when he’d first entered your apartment. Fuck he’s way too down bad for you. This is all too much. 

“Even after she found out, after the initial shock, she still managed to empathise with what it must be like, to be two thousand years old and everything that comes with it.” 

“Huh,” Wonwoo huffs, glaring out the corner of his eye. 

“What” Junhui frowns.  

“Two thousand, it’s just not that impressive,” he shrugs, “I thought you’d be older.”

Junhui blinks at him. If he’s honest he’s pretty fucking pissed that out of the two people he’s told, one had messed with his heart more than anyone ever has and the other has basically just said that he’s disappointing! 

“But that doesn’t explain what happened the other day, unless…….Did you try to bite her?!”

“No! I mean, fuck!” he wipes his face his hands, “I love her. I love her like I’ve never loved anyone but I can’t be with her, I can’t ruin her life and I can’t live for an eternity without her, when she’s gone. So I acted like we were just friends, even when she was trying to tell me it was more and that she couldn’t be away for three months. I thought hurting her now was better than hurting her more later on. But she kept picking her fucking thumb even when I told her to stop and she made it bleed and I lost control. For the first time in centuries I wanted to bite someone. I didn’t. But I wanted to. And she saw me how I never wanted her to, I was seconds away from biting her Wonwoo.” 

“But you didn’t?” He needs to check and Junhui gets that. 

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head, “but I scared her, she was fucking trembling and pleading and still all I wanted to do was bite her.”

“If you love her, could you not just turn her into what you are?” 

“You think it’s that easy?” Junhui looks at Wonwoo incredulously, “I’d be taking away her life Wonwoo, I’d be sentencing her to a life never ending.” 

“But,” Wonwoo frowns, “surely if you have a life of eternity together then it’s not so bad. Plus you could turn me too, I’m a hoot!” 

For the first time in days, Junhui laughs a little. Not a lot. But a little is better than nothing. It passes too quickly though, the reality of what turning someone into a vampire actually means, stopping any small amount of joy he might feel even for the briefest moment. 

“It’s like murder Wonwoo. I haven’t fed off people since I was four hundred or so years old. I wouldn’t even know if I could stop once I’d started. I couldn’t cope with that, if I couldn’t help myself and I ended up losing her.” 

“So your solution was to send her away for three months? What was that even going to achieve Junhui?” 

“She might’ve met someone,” Junhui shrugs, not even believing what he’s saying. 

“You’ve met _____,” Wonwoo looks at him dubiously, “she isn’t the kind of person to just fall out of love with someone. She loves with her whole heart and she’s been wanting you for a lot longer than you know. If her finding out this,” he gestures his hands at Junhui, “didn’t scare her off, why would being away from you for three months do anything?” 

“It was the only thing I could think of. I can’t do it Wonwoo. To her or me.”

“Fucking idiot.” He scoffs and shakes his head. 

Junhui just wishes people would see what he’s trying to say, why the fuck does everyone think its so easy?! To just take the life out of someone?! 

“You know it’s not tha……….” But Wonwoo’s phone ringing cuts him off. 

“Hello?” 

Wonwoo’s face changes from indifference to horror and Junhui is immediately filled with a feeling of dread. Because if Wonwoo shows so much indifference when being confronted with an actual vampire, nothing good could’ve gotten that reaction from him. 

“Come on,” he rushes when he hangs up his phone and runs to the office door. 

“Why?” 

“It’s _____. Just hurry the fuck up, we need to get to the hospital now.”

To say your head is throbbing would be an understatement, it feels like someone’s using your head as a bass drum and you’re not even sure you can open your eyes. But the sound of someone repeatedly saying your name makes you panic, had you drunkenly called Wonwoo? Perhaps keeping your eyes closed would be the better option, you don’t need one of his lectures about how he wasn’t put on this earth to be your nurse maid. Something he refuses to listen to when he has a cold and you insist on giving him the same speech. 

You don’t even remember coming back from the store, you remember going to the store. You’d just finished packing for three long months in the depths of hell with Vernon and decided what the fuck, you don’t have anything to do for the two days until you have to leave. You were going to get drunk, watch Twilight and berate Bella for even going near a vampire, but then at least her vampire admitted his feelings. Perhaps if you find a nice werewolf, he might be more inclined to not try and gaslight you into thinking that you’re just friends. 

All you want to do is stew in your hangover and yet some prick just will not stop saying your name……..

“______ can you hear me?! Fuck, where the hell is that doctor?!” 

Doctor? For a hangover. That seems somewhat extreme, even for a drinking lightweight like you. 

“Wh…..” you try to speak but even trying makes your head hurt, “Jun……” What are you thinking of? Of course it’s not Junhui, that’s just your fantasies talking. 

“Oh that’s very nice,” 

You know that voice. You’d sadly know Wonwoo’s voice anywhere but you just can’t seem to come round enough to give him a piece of your mind. 

“_____? Can you hear me?” 

That is a voice you don’t recognise. What the hell has Wonwoo done? He’s surely not invited a group of people round to deal with your drunken ass?

“_____ try to open your eyes for me.” Well that seems to be easier said than done, because it feels like your eyelids are being weighed down by bricks. “Take it slow and open them,”

You don’t know who this demanding ass is but can he not see you’re trying to open your eyes?! Fucking bossy. God knows where Wonwoo has found him but he can damn well leave your apartment as soon as you can hurl yourself out of bed. 

You manage to open them, the lights far brighter than you remember your bedroom lights being. And in fact you don’t remember your ceiling looking like the one you’re blinking into focus at all. 

A massive head looms over you and you flinch, the last face you had so close was that of a monster that up until a few days ago you’d have sworn you loved. Though you’re still fairly certain you do. Hence the need to drink and shout at Bella Swan to get as far away from Edward as possible. 

“Can you hear me?” 

Why is this man treating you like you’re an idiot? 

“Obviously.” You rasp and hear Wonwoo snort. But when you try to move your head and glare at him, it feels like you’ve been surgically attached to whatever you’re lying on. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“I’m not twelve,” you croak out, your voice sounding much weaker than you remember. 

To his credit, the man looming over you chuckles, but holds his hand up again. 

“I’m a doctor. You’ve been unconscious for two days, could you help me out and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” 

Unconscious?! And for two days?! Fuck you need to find Vernon, you need to catch your flight. Or maybe you have caught your flight, perhaps Vernon had finally persuaded you to get high with him and now you’ve embarrassingly over done it and this nice Peruvian doctor is trying to help you. But then why would Wonwoo be here? If they’ve made him come and get you all the way from Peru, you’ll never here the fucking end of it. 

“Three.” 

“Good. I’m just going to shine a light in your eye, if you could follow my finger for me?” 

You do as he says, hoping the quicker he’s done, the quicker you can find out what the hell happened. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“I went to the convenience store down the street and now I’m here. Wherever here is.” You say slowly, barely even hearing yourself from how hoarse your voice is.

“Ok,” he nods, looking you over, “we’ve done scans and we don’t think there’s any lasting damage. We were a little worried about your hearing but clearly, that’s fine. We need to keep you in for a couple more days and then you’ll need constant supervision for a week or so after that. But if you have no problems whilst you’re still here, I’ll be happy to discharge you in two days..” 

“What happened though?” You try to sit up, but note once again that you can’t.

“Oh,” the doctor leans towards you, “you have a neck brace on, as I say you don’t have any lasting damage and no broken bones so if you can promise to make no sudden movements, I can take that off.”

“Take it off please.” You can’t stand feeling like you’re trapped. 

“No problem,” he gently undoes it, “do you want the bed up a little?” 

“Please,” 

He presses the button on your bed and you slowly rise. But it’s as you’re edging further up, the room coming into view, you feel like someone's knocked all the air out of your lungs and you’d actually rather be lowered back down again. The last person you need to see is him. Dealing with Wonwoo will be bad enough. 

“Do I have to sit up?” you try to ignore the two men sitting looking panicked, “I think actually I’d be better fully reclined,” you try to reach for the button but your arm feels like lead and you just wince, “don’t you think I’d be better lying down? Perhaps some sedatives to knock me out again? My head feels like it’s been hit by a bus.” 

“It was a car.” Wonwoo says as he marches over to you, looking more pissed than you’ve ever seen him, “Don’t you ever fucking worry me like that again!” 

He launches himself around you, your whole body aching from the impact of it and all you can do is pat his back gently, never having had a hug from Wonwoo. Apart from when his childhood cat died but he’d insisted that wasn’t a hug, it was just he needed a little help standing up. 

“This is weird.” you mumble, still awkwardly patting his back. 

“I don’t care. I thought you were dead, you moron.” 

“Charming.” It's only then though that you realise what he said, “wait, I was hit by a car? I wasn’t drunk?”

“Why would you be drunk?” He pulls back, eyebrows knitted in confusion. 

“I was going to the convenience store. I was going to watch a film and get drunk,” 

“Very classy.” He smirks, perching on the side of your bed. “You must’ve been on your way there though, you didn’t have anything with you as far as the paramedics were aware. The guy was speeding, the cops have arrested him but you don’t have to worry about that now. We came straight here when the emergency room called.”

“We?” 

“Er,” Wonwoo stands up and shows you that the other man sitting in the corner of the room wasn’t a figment of your imagination. “Yeah, I was in Junhui’s office when I got the call. We both came straight here.” 

“Why are you here?” You try to say it like his presence doesn’t bother you, like the last time you’d seen him hadn’t broken your heart. 

“I wanted to check if you were ok.” 

Hearing his voice makes you feel like it’s repairing a little of your broken body, just by how much comfort it brings you. But he said you were wrong, that this was all one sided and so you will yourself to stay strong. 

“Well I am. You can go now.” 

“_____.” Wonwoo says softly, “he’s not even been home since we got here two days ago. Even when I went to change and shower at home, he stayed with you.”

“I don’t care Wonwoo. You wouldn’t get it.”

“I know he’s a vampire.” He says bluntly.

You stare at him, your head now not only throbbing, but spinning. 

“H-how? I mean,” you panic remembering the doctor who definitely shouldn’t be hearing this, “h-he doesn’t mean vampire. He’s not well, he’s a bit odd really, he just makes things up for……..”

“You don’t have to cover for him or Junhui. I’m Seungkwan.” He offers you his hand to shake. 

And you do shake his hand, not that you can speak, your expression is more like a fish than anything else. Your mouth opening and closing with no clue of what to say now you’re confronted with yet another vampire. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Good.” You say stupidly, your brain really not firing on all cylinders, and thankfully Seungkwan just chuckles and takes a seat next to Junhui. 

“How do you know he's a vampire?” You rush to ask. 

“I went to ask……”

“Demand.” Junhui interrupts, smirking a little at the glare Wonwoo sends him. 

“I went to ask what the hell had happened to you. He was the last one who’d seen you and you looked so upset when you left the office that day. And you’re so fucking stubborn, there’s no way you didn’t hear me banging on your door.” He scolds you. 

“I wanted some alone time,” you sniff, “am I not allowed that?” 

“You don’t have to cover for me. They both know what happened, how I lost control.” Junhui interrupts. 

“I don’t care about you losing control. And I don’t want you here. I have enough friends, I don’t need another one.” The recollection of him telling you that this whole thing had been nothing more than friendship still leaves a sting in your heart and him being here just makes you feel fucking stupid all over again. 

“_____ please,”

“I don’t understand why you’re here. Friends can go three months without seeing each other,” you try to mimic his voice even though yours is still croaky, “why even bother coming to the hospital?” 

“Because I thought I’d lost you!” He stands up, voice pleading and tears threatening to fall. 

“Have I shown you my espresso machine in my office Wonwoo?” Seungkwan gets up from his seat quickly. 

“Er,” Wonwoo looks between you and Junhui, “no! But I’d love to see it! I love coffee!”

“Don’t you dare!” You try to shout after him as they both rush to the door, “Wonwoo come back here! You can’t just leave me like this!” 

But it’s no use. They’ve gone. So much for caring about you, if they know how he lost control then it’s pretty shitty behaviour to leave your bruised body in his care. Though you’re not scared of him, not really. He couldn’t help his reaction to the blood and even though, yes you were terrified when you got home, that subsided pretty quickly. The only thing you really felt was embarrassed that he clearly didn’t feel the same as you. That you’d thought it safe that you were both on the same page and instead he just fobbed you off with that friends bullshit. 

“I won’t hurt you.” 

“Not physically maybe.” You try to avoid looking at him. “I’m alive. You can ease whatever guilty conscience you might’ve had and go home.” 

“I’m sorry for what happened.”

You just hum and nod, not looking at him and sniffling as tears start to cascade slowly down your cheeks. 

“I’m not normally like that around blood, I can normally control myself.” 

“So this is somehow my blood’s fault?!” 

“What? No! I was just trying to say that doesn’t normally happen, I’m not a……threat….like that, I guess.” 

“I never thought you were. And I still don’t. So you can go. Tell Vernon I’ll get the first flight I can.” 

“I’ve already sent someone else with him, not that he really needs anyone,”

“Right,” you scoff, “now I’ll be no trouble from my death bed, he conveniently doesn’t need anyone to babysit him.” You try to fold your arms but everything aches, which just makes you want to cry even more. 

“I hate seeing you cry.” He says it before he can even stop himself, you can tell that much from the way he slightly panics that he’s said it. He’s always so certain in what he says, something you suppose comes from years of simply being alive and knowledge that comes with that.  

“I’m trying not to.” You sniffle, trying to remain stoic but failing miserably. 

This feels like the worst break up you’ve ever been through and yet it’s completely one sided according to him, just a friendship that technically doesn’t have to end. But you couldn’t keep spending time with him, every second you’ve already spent with him has taken a little of your heart as the clock ticked by. It would just hurt too much. You know it would. 

“Please just go Junhui. I feel humiliated enough as it is and now I’ve literally been hit by a car, I don’t think I could get any more pathetic.” You pick at a stray piece of cotton on the blanket covering you, hoping he’ll just go quietly. 

“I can’t,” he looks almost sheepish and you narrow your eyes at him, “you’re staying at my place for the week you need to be supervised.” 

“WHAT?!” You try to sit up but your woozy head stops you and before you know it Junhui has you in his arms and he’s making sure you settle back on the bed. “You can’t,” you try to get your breath because somehow moving even the smallest amount has winded you, “you can’t just decide that.”

“I didn’t. Not on my own anyway. I mean, I suggested it and Seungkwan and Wonwoo agreed.” 

“Oh well you should’ve said that sooner! You’ll let me know who I need to vote for in the next election and how you’d like me to have my hair cut won’t you! Chauvinistic shit heads.” You huff. 

He scowls at you but you don’t care. How dare they just make decisions for you! 

“Wonwoo says that Mingyu?” he checks the name of Wonwoo’s roommate with you, you begrudgingly nodding, “has taken up DJing so you couldn’t go there, him blasting music is hardly going to help a head injury. All your other friends, he said you’d hate staying with. And I’m told,” he smirks a little, “that you’d throw a fit if we told you that you had to go and stay with your parents.”

“No, I'm not having them fussing over me. Once they had me, they’d never let me leave. I love them but they would hyperventilate at the idea of having their baby back home, as they’d say. No.” You shake your head adamantly, ignoring the way it hurts, “I can’t go there.” 

“Then sadly, the only option is my place.” 

“Sadly? Fuck,” you huff sadly, “just let me go home. I’ll call Wonwoo if there’s any problems.” 

“No,” he rushes to correct you, “I didn’t mean sadly for me. I meant for you. It was my idea for you to come to my place, even before Wonwoo gave us other options.” 

“But you’ll be at work anyway. I may as well just go home. And I don’t want to be around you.”

You ignore the way his face drops at that. 

“I swear I don’t usually lose control like that _____!” 

“I don’t care if you show your fangs or threaten to bite me, I don’t give a fuck about that. I like you Junhui,” there’s no sense of beating about the bush, not in the circumstances, “and I think you know I do. And I get that you don’t see me as more than a friend but I don’t think I can be around you knowing that this whole thing has been so one sided. I was certain, so certain you felt the same and I feel like an idiot.” Your voice gets quieter as you trail off, your stomach in knots of embarrassment. 

Junhui just wants to shake you and tell you that you’re like no woman he’s ever met, that he thinks, no he knows, you’re the love of his life. It’s breaking him that you think he doesn’t feel the same as you, but it’s the safest option for both of you. He knows it is. 

“We don’t really have an option. You need someone to watch you, I’ve already told the office I won’t be in and I’ll stay out of your way if you want. I’ll give you a bell or something to ring in emergencies but other than that, I’ll leave you to it.” 

“Or I could just go home.” You press again. 

“Seungkwan won’t discharge you if he thinks you’ll be on your own. So unless you want to stay in the hospital, where I’ll be staying anyway if you’re here,” he says sternly, “then you’re staying at my place.” 

“Fucking ridiculous.” You turn away and miss Junhui’s little smile when he realises you’ve given up the fight and he’ll be able to make sure you’re safe and cared for. Much to your disgust.

You knew you could be stubborn. In fact you were certain there were few people in this world more stubborn than you. But it turns out there is someone much more stubborn than you. Junhui. Because no matter how much you ignored him and no matter how much you pleaded with Wonwoo and even Seungkwan, who you didn’t even know, to come and stay at your place, then you wouldn’t need to go to Junhui’s, he still refused to leave your bedside. Even when he had to use the bathroom, he used the one supplied in your private room (the perks of knowing one of the top doctors in the hospital is a vampire) and whenever it came to food, he’d already ordered something to be delivered to the hospital. 

Wonwoo would turn up around the time the food had been delivered and you all ate together like one big, slightly dysfunctional family. Junhui would try to talk to you, you’d insist on talking passively aggressively through Wonwoo who would then try and ignore you, and Seungkwan would simply sit and enjoy the drama of it all. 

But now you’re two days into your stay at Junhui’s penthouse and your resolve is crumbling along with your heart. Because he truly is the most caring man you’ve ever met. Each morning before you wake up he creeps into your room and leaves your pain medication and a glass of water by your bed, makes sure you’ve got clean perfectly folded clothes to put on, takes your worn clothes and puts them in the laundry and he even brushed and dried your hair when it was too much for you to do. Even though you’d declared to him that you didn’t want his help and you’d happily got to bed with wet hair, he refused to leave the room until he knew it was done and you had no risk of catching a cold by going to bed with your hair wet. 

He told you he’d stay out of your way and it seems he meant it. Because after he’s made sure you have everything you need and you’re safe, he heads to his home office and you don’t see him again until it’s time for your next meal or round of medication. 

Which you guess is what you wanted. You told him you wanted nothing to do with him. But he’s so close and you find yourself pining for his attention, that you know he’d willingly give you if you hadn’t repeatedly told him you didn’t want him near you. It’s like there’s an invisible string between you, that you know isn’t broken, it’s holding on by a thread but it's not broken, and that’s what's making it so hard for you now. 

By your third day at his apartment, you decide to swallow your pride and head to find him. You’re allowed to get out of bed, you’re not ill, but you just can’t do anything strenuous. Although, maybe putting your bruised ego to the side for the sake of being near the man you love would be classed as doing something somewhat strenuous. 

You wander down the stairs, smiling at the slightly messy kitchen where he’d been trying to make you eggs this morning and move towards his office rehearsing what you’re going to say. Perhaps you could say you need something to read? But that won’t work, he’d left a pile of books by your bed along with his iPad in case there was anything you wanted to watch on it. He’d literally thought of everything you might need during your stay, proving once again that he’s nothing like the monster you saw the last time that you were in his actual office at work.  

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise you’ve been standing in his office doorway for a good thirty seconds until his worried voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Is everything ok?” He panics, you never having actively sought him out in the three days you’ve been here. 

“Er, yeah. I’m….” he looks you over like he’s worried you’re in pain or something, “I’m lonely?”

“Oh,” he stands up straight, looking round for his phone, “do you want me to call Wonwoo? Or someone else?” 

Fuck you feel horrible. You’ve made it so clear you don’t want him near you that now he doesn’t even think you would possibly mean that you want to spend time with him. 

“No,” you shake your head, your voice quiet, “I could’ve just rung him myself. I wondered…..well I wondered if you wanted to watch a movie or something? Of course if you’re busy it’s fine.”

“I’d er,” he scratches his neck, “I’d like that. But before that……something came in yesterday that I had been meaning to show you. I had it shipped from my storage unit in Europe before we…..well before everything happened. I didn’t show you yesterday because I didn’t want to overstep but now you’re here, I’d really like to show you.” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s upstairs. I could show you now?” He asks softly, like he doesn’t want to make a mistake and scare you off. 

You just nod and follow him quietly up the stairs. In the time you’ve spent together you’d never really had a quiet moment, from the second he entered your world it was like you both wanted to tell each other everything about your lives, no matter how big or small it was. And now there’s a void and you still don’t truly understand what caused it. One second it was the fine and the next he was sending you away. 

He punches the codes in and you feel a warm feeling washes over, like being back in this room full of treasures somehow feels like home. It isn’t even the artefacts and tomes that make you feel that way, it’s being surrounded by Junhui’s life, everything that he treasures, just makes you feel closer to him than you could ever dream to be. 

He leads you over to the large table in the centre of the room, papers scattered over it but a large metal box and book stand catch your eye. 

“Please,” he gestures to the chair next to the one he’s just sat in, “sit down.” 

“What is it?” You stare at the metal box as you sit next to him, not noticing how Junhui moves his chair just a little closer to yours. 

“I’ve had these for about nine hundred years, it took me centuries to track them down but I finally did. I don’t look at them often because I don’t want to risk anything happening to them. But I wanted you to see them, she,” he smiles at the box, “she reminds me of you a little.” 

“Who?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

“You’ll see.” he smiles softly. 

He opens the large metal box and you peer inside. You were expecting something large or impressive from the size of the box, maybe even a small bust of whoever it is that reminds him of you. But it’s just papers. Well. Parchments, ancient ones, but parchments none the less. 

“Parcements?” You ask, confused how “she” can be on parchment paper. 

“Have you ever heard of Sappho?” He smiles at the parchments as he gently takes them out of the box and places them on the book stand. 

You rack your brain but short of a few short mentions at university, you really couldn’t say you’d heard of her. 

“Vaguely,” you shake your head, marvelling at how old the pieces look in front of you, “but not really.” 

He just nods, sending you another gentle smile and looks at the parchments you’re already lost in. 

“She was a poet in Ancient Greece, hardly any of her writing survives, there’s probably about a hundred museums that would shoot me to get hold of these,” he chuckles, “but I always found her to be the most fascinating of all the ancient writers or poets.” 

“Why?” You frown, wondering how she can be so much better than any of the ancient greats everyone in the world has heard of. 

“Well, she’s a woman for one. Which in those times was unheard of for great poets or writers. But,” he sighs, leaning back in his seat, watching you and not looking at one of his most priced possessions. “She didn’t rely on myths or legends for her work. She lived in the real world, she wrote about love and feelings and what it was like to be passionately in love. By all accounts she was one of the strongest, most determined women of her time too.”

You stare at the parchment, you can’t read it, the writing is completely foreign to you but that doesn’t matter. The writing in front of you was by a woman in Ancient Greece. This parchment predates the whole modern era. Junhui had shown you a lot of things that would be considered old by anyone’s standards but this? Well this is on a completely different level to anything you could’ve ever dreamed of seeing with your own eyes. 

“But?” You turn to him, dragging your eyes away from Sappho’s writing, “Why does she remind you of me?” 

He doesn’t look at you, he now takes your place in staring at the parchment. 

“She broke the mold. She lived a life of love and without prejudice. You know,” he smiles sadly, “she was married to a man who she loved with her whole heart and yet still explored the idea of being attracted to women in her poems. I’m not saying you are obviously, not that it’d matter if you were” he corrects himself, “but she didn’t hold prejudice against those who were attracted to the same sex. She didn’t hold prejudice against anyone from what I’m told, she was accepting and understanding. For a woman to be so forward thinking and to be heard was so underheard of,” he shakes his head completely lost in his own thoughts, “I guess you sort of reminded me of that. You found out about me, most people would have called me a freak or monster, and you were so accepting, so ready to give me a chance and see past what I am. Even in the hospital, although I’d already asked for these to be shipped, I don’t even think you realised you did it but even after I treated you so terribly, you still tried to cover for me when Wonwoo just blurted out that I’m a vampire.” 

“Thank……” But you don’t get a chance to finish, it seems Junhui is so lost in thoughts that his subconscious is free flowing and nowhere near stopping. 

“And if anything,” he smiles sadly as Sappho’s lost poems, “you remind me even more of her now. These poems, they’re about love. About how you feel when you’re in love, how your heart races, how you feel like you’re almost falling ill with something when you’re around the person you love so violently that your heart hurts. She celebrated love.” He nods to himself, “And she was brave enough to celebrate love. In all forms. No matter who it was. And that’s what you did, that day in my office when I tried to send you away. You were brave enough, just like Sappho, to stand there and tell me I was wrong and that you knew it was something way stronger than friendship.” A stray tear falls down his cheek as you desperately try to keep your composure, “You’re just like her. You’re strong and you’re a trailblazer who I’ve no doubt could run that company if they’d just let you. But you’re caring, you’re so willing to love, and love fully that you stood there in a room full of coldness and told a vampire that he was wrong to dismiss what was happening as friendship.” 

Your heart is in your throat, feeling just how he’s just told you Sappho felt about love. 

“A-are,” you swallow, trying to blink away tears, “are you saying I was right? That it wasn’t one sided?” 

“I’ve lived almost two thousand years on this earth _____,” his eyes slowly find yours, “and I never felt this pull to someone. The need to be around someone all the time. I’ve loved people,” he nods, choosing to be honest, “but I’ve never felt like this. I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought I was saving you by sending you away. But all I was doing was being fucking selfish.” 

“What do you mean?” You frown, wanting to hold his hand but choosing to stay still, you don’t want to unsettle him further. 

“I told myself it was for you. Because I’m a danger to you. But me denying my feelings was the only thing that put you in danger. Seungkwan thinks that’s what caused me to turn on you,” he clarifies, “the mixture of feelings I’d never had before and then that one drop of blood tipped it over the edge.”

“But how does that make you selfish?” 

“If we did this. If we had a relationship. You’d grow old, it’s just the way the world is,” he shrugs, “and I don’t doubt I’d love you till your dying breath. I’d want you till your dying breath no matter how old you got. But what do I do then? When you’ve gone? I’d have to live for the rest of eternity knowing that I’d never see you again. Even if afterlives exist, I never die, I’d never see you there. I couldn’t cope with that _____. I couldn’t live knowing that I’d known the love of my life but only had her for a fraction of it.” 

Your tears fall freely, his admission both fixing and breaking your heart all over again. He loves you, just as much as you love him. Or probably more. You’ve only lived thirty years and never left like this, he’s lived for thousands and says the same thing. Something you can’t quite get your head around but makes you feel more loved than you ever have. You know what you want to say, you want to say that he’s being ridiculous and he could simply change you. Which you know is reckless and ill thought out but you want nothing more than to spend an eternity with him. 

“Does it not hurt more to throw it away when you know you have at least a chance to be with someone you love, even for a short time? If you walked away from this now, you’d always have what ifs, for the rest of time. If you gave us a chance, you’d have memories of the happy times at least? Surely that’s better?” 

He stares at you, eyes shining from tears. 

“I can’t throw it away now.” He tries to take a deep breath in a bid to stop his tears, “Even if you told me to fuck off, I don’t think I could. When Wonwoo got that phone call. I couldn’t cope, I couldn't leave you. I couldn’t lose you without you knowing that I love you with my whole heart. And when you came round all I could think about was how I didn’t want to waste a single second of your life on trying to push you away and ignore what you were brave enough to say was happening here all along.”

“So you’re saying?” You ask quietly. He’s been pretty clear but this is still the same man who told you that he’d never shown you any inclination it was more than friendship, he can’t blame you for checking. 

“I’m saying,” he sniffles, wiping his cheek, “if you want to. I want to be with you. I want to know what it feels like to be in love. To freely love just like Sappho did. How you tried to before I stopped you.”

Your breath hitches with tears. Thank fuck you went to his office. 

“I’d like that,” You smile through your tears, “I’d like that a lot.” 

He reaches forward, his fingers gently moving your hair behind your ear and eyes searching yours. 

“Thank you,” he whispers as his lips meet yours for the first time. 

They’re cold, not like any other kiss that you’ve ever experienced but yet there’s a heat that comes with it, like kissing the person you love more than anyone is making you feel warmer than you ever have. It’s slow and heavy, like he’s showing you he’s got all the time in the world to love you. Your hands move to hold his cheeks and deepen the kiss but Junhui seems to be one stop ahead of you, he pulls you chair even closer and more or less pulls you onto him so you’re straddling his legs, your lips never stopping as you get your first proper taste of him. His tongue is warm unlike his lips and you can’t help but hold each other closer as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. You already know that you could never get bored of this feeling and thankfully Junhui has no intention of letting you go now he’s got you. 

He does break the kiss though, smiling as he leans his forehand against yours, his hands holding your waist. 

“I didn’t mean to do it like this. But once again you led the way when you came into my office. I’ve been sitting at that desk for days trying to figure out how to tell you.” 

“I think Ancient Greek poetry was a pretty impressive way to declare you love me to be honest.” You tease, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Being a vampire has some perks,” he smiles at you, his fingers drawing patterns on your waist. “I meant what I said though. You’re like no-one I’ve ever met and I can’t promise we won’t have our struggles but knowing we’ll face them together means the world to me. And I need you to know that what happened that day in my office hasn’t happened in centuries and I hope it’ll never happen again. I’m fine around blood normally I swear.” 

“I figured,” you shrug, “my period started yesterday and I’m still alive.” 

The way you feel his laughter as well as see it sends a thrill through you. You’d always said Junhui was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen but now you need to correct that. Because Junhui laughing whilst he holds you close to him is definitely the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life. In this room full of treasures, he’s definitely the most precious you’ve had the honour to see. 

The rest of your time spent recuperating at Junhui’s place passed by in a wave of him fussing over you trying to do too much every time you tried to put him out of his cooking misery, and gentle touches and promises of how you’d never let anything like this happen again. When he felt like it was all getting too much, or he felt like he was going to lose his cool, he’d tell you and you could find a way to work through it. 

He also made it quite clear that he knew your period was starting the day before it actually started, apparently he can smell the change in your hormones or something and when it started, he could smell the blood. Something which made you panic that the smell was bad or in some way problematic for him. But he quickly put an end to that spiral though by asking did you think you were the only woman on her period he’d ever been around, which you suppose makes sense, he must sense every woman in the office’s period you suppose. 

As the days passed, you just fell even more for your vampire boyfriend. He’d shyly asked you if you wanted to stay in his room with him, rather than his spare room. Neither of you were ready for anything more to happen than kissing or just simply holding each other, but he just wanted you close and you felt exactly the same way. On the first night in his room, he said he wanted to read you something. You presumed it was going to be some kind of romantic poem or excerpt from another lost ancient writer. But instead he confidently stood in front of the bed and began dramatically reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe to you, strange voices for all of the characters and everything. 

It was only after he’d finished reading the first three chapters that he threw himself onto the bed with you and said that he just wanted to hear your laugh. That almost week of not hearing it, he said, had been the worst time of his life and he just wanted to hear it properly, before you both spent your first night holding each other. Something that made you want to giggle and kick your feet, but you remained composed. Sort of. 

The whole time staying at his apartment felt like a dream and you’d think being back in your own apartment would feel like crashing back down to earth. And yet, it doesn’t. Because even as he helped you get settled back at your place, constantly saying that if you didn’t feel ready then he’d happily let you stay at his as long as you wanted, you knew that you’d never feel as low as you did when you ran out of the office. You had your whole future to look forward to and there was no sense in rushing things. You knew you loved each other and that was more than enough. 

Two years later. 

“It’s just a taste really, I don’t think you’d even really register any difference as long as you’ve had your blood for the day.” Seungkwan says casually as he fills up all your glasses. 

“Just a taste?” Junhui scoffs at you, Seungkwan and Wonwoo as you all nod knowingly, “Why are you two nodding? Neither of you are vampires!” 

“Because I’ve listened to Seungkwan and he knows these things.” You say, like Seungkwan is the wisest person you’ve ever met. “And Wonwoo has also listened. He’s great at listening, why do you think his ears are so big?” 

“Hey fuck you!”

“You won’t be saying that to me when I’m a vampire.” You say matter of factly. 

“And you won’t be becoming one if you use your advantage like that.” 

You gawk at your boyfriend, disgusted that he’d say that to you, particularly in front of Wonwoo who’s looking more smug than you’ve ever seen him. 

“I mean it _____,” Junhui says, taking a sip of his drink, “I’m already going against everything I believe in, if you’re going to use it over people, I won’t do it.” 

“He’s not people, he’s Wonwoo,” you say, like it’s obvious. “And you know I’m not like that. We’ve been through this.” 

“I know,” he sighs, scratching his eyebrow, “I’m just……..I still don’t know if I should do it. Maybe we should get Joshua to come over and do it. He’s the oldest. He’s turned people before. We could call him and he’ll be on a flight before we know it.” 

“NO!” You interrupt, making Seungkwan jump and drop his food off his chopsticks, “I don’t want someone else to bite me. I want you to do it.” 

“Oh this is disgusting, do I have to be here for this?” Wonwoo asks Seungkwan. 

“Yes. You need to hear this as much as _____. You’re the one who’s insistent you want to become one too.”

“Childish.” You mumble to Wonwoo. 

“Why should you get to see everything in the future and not me?” 

“Because I fell in love with a vampire,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I think you’ll find he loves me just as much. I’m like your brother, aren’t I Junhui?” He looks at your boyfriend hopefully, Junhui looking slightly panicked. 

“I wouldn’t object to having you around.” He concedes much to your disgust. The last thing Wonwoo needs is his ego boosting. 

“Oh well why don’t you spend eternity with him then,” you throw your napkin on the table dramatically, all of them knowing you’re joking. You’re too excited to be truly angry. 

“Because,” he leans towards you, “I fell in love with you and you’ve somehow become so important that I can’t imagine any future without you. So sadly, you’re going to be stuck with me. Forever.” 

“Dis-gusting.” Wonwoo says flatly as Junhui peppers tiny kisses on your lips and you giggle into them. 

“So it’s just a taste,” Seungkwan carries on once he’s given your sickly pda enough time to come to an end, “you need to take enough blood that her blood sort of panics, in simple terms, her body needs to panic and take on your dna to keep itself alive. It’s a fine line and it’ll be quick, a bite and you only need a couple of mouth fulls for it to be done. Anymore and…….”

“Anymore,” Junhui interrupts, “and I kill the love of my life.” 

The table falls quiet at that. 

About a month ago when you turned 32, you brought up the subject of Junhui changing you, you wanted him to do it and you wanted him to do it whilst you still looked like you. It may be vain but you don’t want to be an old lady and he finally decides to do it. 

It wasn’t a shock to him and to be honest, he’d been thinking about the same thing. Your two years together had shown you two things, that you loved each other like you didn’t think was possible and that Junhui was going to struggle to go on once you’d left this world. You’d gotten the impression he was thinking about it when he spent hours talking to Pearl and Soonyoung on the phone. They’re the only other vampires alive that had been through this and you couldn’t see any other reason that he’d be talking to them so much more than normal. 

You hadn’t gone into it blindly. You knew you’d have to distance yourself from your parents a little as you got older but Junhui said with skincare and things the way they are now, you could probably get away with not cutting them out completely. They wouldn’t really be able to tell you weren’t aging all that much. And you’d have to move around every few decades but that didn’t matter, as long as you were together. You couldn’t see any logical reason for him to not turn you. 

Junhui had resisted doing it himself, even when he’d gotten his head around the fact that in taking your mortal life, he was giving you both an eternal life together. He’d stopped seeing it as murder, like he’d spent a lot of his life doing, because he knew that you’d still be you. You’d still have the same personality, the same looks, even the same preferences in food and literature, you’d just have reflexes like the speed of light and everything else that came with being a vampire. 

Seungkwan and Junhui had been meticulous in their research and planning for the days after he’d turned you. They found enough evidence to suggest that if they doubled the amount of blood that they both have daily, your thirst should be satiated enough that you won’t have the urge to bite anybody. They’d both taken two weeks off work and they were going to monitor you, gradually allowing you near more and more people the more your body adjusted to the change, until you were able to function normally in society just like them. 

It didn’t stop Junhui’s worries though but you loved that he was up front about them. He didn’t want to hide any part of himself from you and that included the uncomfortable truth, that the main thing he was scared of was killing you. It wasn’t that he didn’t drink enough blood daily, it was more that he hasn’t had that thrill of fresh blood from the source in centuries. And, if their research is anything to go by, the blood of someone you love tastes even sweeter than that of any other human being. He knew he could resist, he’d realised in your time together that you’re one of the clumsiest people he’s ever met, he’s cleaned up cuts and grazes and never had an issue. But drinking it? When you’re willingly giving it? He was scared. And you all knew it. 

“You’ve got this Junhui. I know you have. As you do it, just think of the fact that you never have to say goodbye, that if you don’t stop when you need to, you lose everything. That should be all you need to not lose yourself.” Seungkwan says kindly. 

“And let's not forget _____’s self defence classes, she’ll fight you off.” Wonwoo jokes, knowing exactly how to bring everyone back from worrying. 

“Hey. I have a mean right hook.” You say, flexing your nonexistent muscles. 

“It’ll be fine Junhui. And I’ll come by first thing in the morning with the blood.” 

“When do I get turned?” 

“When I can be bothered.” Seungkwan dismisses Wonwoo and goes back to finishing his dinner. 

You and Junhui smile at each other as your friends bicker, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never have to worry about losing each other ever again.

“I thought,” you mumble against Junhui’s lips as he keeps kissing you, “that you were turning me.” 

“I am,” he says against your skin as his lips move down your neck, “but I just wanted to show human _____ how much I love her, one last time.”

His soft lips travel down your body, kissing every bit of skin they come into contact with, like he wants to make sure he’s touched every miniscule part of you before he finally grants your wish. Every tiny peck makes your body feel like it’s on fire and all you can do is lie back on your shared bed, both of you naked, and relish the way he’s worshipping your body. 

“How are you so perfect?” He whispers as he takes your nipple gently into his mouth, humming around it as he sucks gently. 

You’d had sex. You’ve had a lot of sex in your two years together. But this feels different, this feels like you’re giving yourselves to each other, to be naked and bare to each other as he takes your mortal life away and renews it with his unkillable DNA feels like a new birth. It’s possibly the most intimate you’ve ever felt, you’re just two people about to do something that will change your lives for eternity. In all the years you’ll spend with each other after this, no matter how the world changes and whatever life throws at you, this will always stay the same. How it all started, both of you feeling each other in your purest most honest forms, will always feel like this. You’ll always have each other, you’ll always be able to have each other like this. 

His lips leave your nipple, his tongue licking a soft line between the valley of your breasts until he finds your untouched nipple, his lips wrapping around it softly and savouring the feeling of it in his mouth just as much as he had done your other one. Your hands run through his hair, your eyes closed in pleasure as you sigh at the feeling over him sucking your pebbled nipple. No-one has ever made you feel like this, so beautiful, so wanted. He’s seen hundreds of bodies in his life and yet every time he sees, or feels or tastes yours, it’s like he’s in awe of you, like he can’t get over how stunning you are and that you love him as much as he loves you. 

“I love you,” he hums as his lips move lower and lower, trailing down your stomach, even stopping at your belly button and giving that a little kiss because he knows the ticklish feeling would make you giggle. 

“I love you too,” you giggle as his lips travel painfully close to your pussy. 

You can’t even be annoyed when he bypasses it entirely, you know once he gets a taste of you, he won’t be able to stop. The man has spent hours with his head between your thighs and you both know that he doesn’t stop until you physically can’t take anymore. So he can’t get sidetracked by your perfect pussy because he’s not finished showing the rest of your body the same amount of love as he’s already shown your upper half. His kisses turn wet as he kisses your thighs, your body twitching a little when his hair brushes past your pussy when he kisses the inside of your thighs. 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles as his lips move down your legs, kissing every where he comes into contact with, “how I got so lucky to find someone as fucking exquisite as you after all this time.” 

He dodges your feet after he places a gentle kiss on one and you laugh, almost ruining his little monologue. Not that he minds, your laugh has become his favourite sound in the world and one that he can’t wait to hear forever more. But clearly your feet are out of bounds if he doesn’t want you rolling around laughing and so he makes his way back up your legs, savouring the way your soft skin feels against his lips, his tongue occasionally popping out too because any part of you tastes divine to him and he can’t resist.

Junhui glances up at you as he reaches your pussy once again but instead of moving back up your body, he dots featherlight kisses all over you, over your folds, over the inside of your thighs, everywhere he can to show you just how much he loves you. His left hand takes yours in his whilst his other hand gently opens you up for him, his eyes shining in love as he kisses your clit, the feeling making you moan a little as his lips kiss their way down to your leaking entrance. 

“So pretty,” he kitten licks your hole, tasting you straight from the source, “I can’t believe I get to spend eternity with you. All mine, to taste, to savour, to worship.” He licks a long stripe back up to your clit, your hand squeezing his from how good it feels. 

His lips suck gently on your clit, your hips bucking a little from the pleasure it sends shooting through your body. 

“Do you think every part of you tastes good darling?” He must feel the way you twitch at that because you feel his smirk disrupt his sucking on your clit he’d gone back to doing. 

You’d told him just how much the idea of him biting you excited you, you’ve no idea why, you think it’s because it’s something nobody has ever done. It’s something so forbidden that for him to do it, to bite you and to taste your blood, it makes this whole thing even more erotic. You’d spoken about tonight, you’d told him that you wanted to feel him bite you just once before he actually bites you properly. You know you’re risking a lot and you’re amazed he agreed, if Seungkwan found out, he’d be furious. “Just one bite and just a taste.” But you want to know how good the pain feels and see the effect your blood has on him before you’re too lost in changing into a vampire that you don’t see anything at all. 

“You’re such a dirty girl ______. It’s pretty perverse to want to see the effect you have on me like that. But,” he licks your pussy again, humming at the taste of your fresh wave of arousal, “I’d give you anything darling, I’d give you the whole fucking world if I could.” 

He licks one more time before his tongue carries on up along your stomach and wraps around one of your nipples again. 

“Fuck!” He makes you jump when suddenly drops your nipple and shouts, “I love you so fucking much.” He says through gritted teeth, your heart pounding and pussy clenching when, for the first time in two years, he looks up at you and you see those red eyes and pearlescent fangs that you saw once before in his office. 

“You think you can just tell me that you want me to taste you, all of you, and I wouldn’t say yes?” his teeth scratch along your skin softly, just above where your heart is pounding. 

You try your best not to squirm but you can’t help it, you’re not doing it out of fear, you’re doing it because of the threat of him sinking his teeth into you at any given moment. The thrill of that expectant pain only makes you drip more than you ever have for him. 

His fingers trail down your stomach as his teeth pause in their scratching, weighing just a little heavier on your skin and making your body pause in anticipation. But he doesn’t do anything with his teeth. His fingers however plunge into your aching hole, making you arch in pleasure at the sudden stretch of his two fingers and your skin, that his teeth were already resting on, ripple the skin, perilously close to breaking it but somehow not. 

“Look how wet you are just at the thought of me tasting your blood, I never knew you were such a pervert darling,” he mutters against your skin, his fingers dragging against your gummy walls and hitting your g spot tantalisingly.

You can’t respond to him, you’re too lost in pleasure and the idea that you’re totally in his care. Your whole body is his to do with as he pleases and if one thing goes wrong, you’re done for. You trust him, you trust him with your life or what you’ll have left of it after this, but it’s the temptation that he’ll have and danger that comes with it. It’s warped, but the idea that he is going to be so drunk on you when he tastes you, that you’ll be giving him so much pleasure in ways no other woman ever has during sex, is sending you a little crazy. 

His fingers hammer in and out of you, the sounds of your sopping pussy and moans that your body doesn’t seem to want to fully release as you wait for him to taste you, filling the room. You’re close, you’re so close and he knows it. He knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows every twitch and every tiny response you have to him and so he knows from the little pattern of clenches your pussy is making around his long fingers, that it won’t be long until you come undone around them. 

It’s because he knows you so well, knows what you want from him, that just as your high is about to it, he sinks his fangs into you just enough that it punctures your skin. 

“Fuck,” you cry, your pussy trembling around his fingers just as much as the rest of your body is as the pain of him biting you and drawing blood mixes with the pleasure coursing through your body from the greatest orgasm of your life. You feel like you’re floating, your whole body filled with electricity as you writhe and cry beneath him, gripping his body and riding his fingers to see you through your orgasm. 

When you open your eyes and blink Junhui into focus, the sight makes your blood run cold. Yet you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your pussy clench painfully in overstimulation. 

He stares at you, eyes glistening red and fangs dripping in your blood. The bite has already healed, the dull pain of it and your blood in his mouth being the only reminder that he’d bitten you, as he takes his fingers from inside you and licks your essence off them, the taste of your blood and your cum mixing together and creating something that Junhui has never experienced in all his years of living. It’s like the ultimate delicacy and it stirs something almost animalistic in him. You’re his. You are totally and utterly his and that taste just solidifies it. It’s like it's imprinted something in him that you won’t ever be able to take away, not that he’d ever want you to. 

The blood drips from his fangs onto your breasts and you both look down at it, knowing exactly what he’s going to do even as more blood drips down onto the purity of your skin. His tongue darts out and he licks every last drop that’s fallen, his tongue getting more and more frantic the more he tastes. And you’ve never felt more desired, more totally beholding to someone than you have in your entire life. He hums into the taste and if you couldn’t feel his fangs drag against your nipple as he was licking your blood from your breasts, you’d think he was back to your usual caring Junhui. 

But when he’s cleaned everything off you, your skin a little pink from how he’s spread the remains of blood over you when he licked it off, and he looks into your eyes. Reality hits you. He looks at your untarnished neck, his red eyes shining a little brighter at the prospect of what’s about to happen and you know that this is it. Your mortal life is going to end and you’ll have the privilege that every other person doesn’t get, you’ll get to spend eternity with the man you love. Both of you seeing the wonders the world has to offer now and the wonders that are yet to come. 

You know your Junhui is still there, he isn’t so lost in the taste of you or his desires that he’s totally left you, because he nods just a little, silently asking you if you’re ready for this. 

“I love you Junhui. I want forever with you.” 

His breath hitches, he takes in your naked body and moves to hover over you, his body resting against yours, skin to skin as he holds your hands above your head. 

He places one last gentle kiss to your mortal lips, whispering a gentle “I love you too.” against them before he moves his lips down along your jaw and onto your neck. 

His lips stop and it’s like your world stops with it. You take one last deep breath in and as you breathe out, you feel his fangs sink into your neck much harder than they had during that first bite. It hurts. It’s the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced but Junhui’s hands squeeze yours letting you know he’s still yours, he hasn’t become the monster that could kill you as he gently sucks on your neck. It isn’t like when someone sucks a love bite onto your neck, with each tiny suck it sinks his fangs even further into your skin and makes you sob just that little harder from the added pain. 

But the pain is the last thing on your mind. You feel his DNA running through your veins, overtaking the DNA that makes you human and changing you into something colder, something more primal. You feel cold, colder than you ever have and yet you feel more alive than ever. Like as more of his DNA courses through you, the stronger your body feels like it’s getting, like you could take on a whole stampede of rhinos and come out the victor. 

He yanks himself away from you, his body shaking and convulsing like everything in him is telling him to carry on, to get his fill of you until you’re dead. But he can’t do that. He won’t. You’re his _____ and he knows if he doesn’t stop now, he never will. He kneels back, still holding one of your hands but drawing away enough to allow the bite enough time to heal and the temptation to keep biting to heal along with it. He strokes your waist with his free hand and waits for you to come round, hoping he hasn’t drawn too much blood from you, as you gasp for breath and shake a little on the bed, your body trying to fight his DNA off yet cling to it to keep you alive. 

“Come on _____,” he whispers, looking at you with wide eyes that are now completely devoid of any red, your Junhui well and truly back. But he just wants to make sure that you’re back and to be honest, he’s starting to panic. “Please darling, come on. We’ve got this, we can do this,” 

His hand keeps stroking your waist and if he was a little less panicked he’d feel that you’re squeezing his hand, trying to show him that you’re still there and your body is just trying to catch up with what’s happened. 

“My love?” He lunges forward when your eyes blink open, the wound on your neck healing completely as you do. “_____ are you with me?” 

He startles a little when you open your eyes and red ones stare back at him. 

“What?” You mumble, not liking the look of slight horror on his face. 

“Nothing,” he shakes off the shock, “I just forgot your eyes would be red until you have your first blood, that’s all. Are you ok? You feel ok?” 

“I feel fantastic,” you smile, “like I could fight someone and actually win.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’ll wear off in an hour or so. Come on, let's get you washed and changed then you can sleep it off before Seungkwan comes with the blood.” 

“Hold on,” you pull his hand as you sit up, both of you face to face, “thank you for doing this. I know it took a lot and I know you hated it. Just….thank you. And I love you.” 

“I love you too.” he says, kissing your lips and noting it doesn’t feel much different from kissing your human lips. “Come on,” he stands up and scoops you into his arms, smiling at how you laugh at his antics and realising this has really changed nothing other than you get to spend your whole life together. 

“There was one more thing I needed to tell you about all this.” 

“What,” you frown as he places you on the bathroom counter and sets the bath running, “if you’re about to tell me some awful thing about being a vampire that you kept to yourself, I’ll kill you Junhui.” 

“Yeah, I’d like to see you try newbie.” You quirks his brow at you. “And it’s not that. You know how Wonwoo wanted turning too?” 

“Yeah?” You say slowly, not really liking where this is going. 

“Well. When Seungkwan brings the blood in the morning. He’s also bringing Wonwoo. Because you’ll both be needing that blood……..” he waits for you to realise what this means. 

“I HAVE TO SPEND TWO WEEKS LOCKED IN THIS APARTMENT WITH FUCKING WONWOO?!” 

He dodges the toilet roll you aim at his head, though only just now your reflexes match his, but can’t help but laugh as you berate him. All he can think as he adds bubbles to your bath is how lucky he is that you walked into his office and caught him drinking blood. If you hadn’t, he’d never be here now. Being shouted at by the love of his life and looking forward to an eternity of this chaos that he’s grown to love so much.