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DAECHWITA: Chapter 7

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Fascinating thing, love. The most uninvited of guests. A spoiled brat demanding what it desired with loud whines, could not be tamed at any cost. It wouldn’t listen to you; you had to listen to it to make it stop crying.

Chapter 7: Nobody Else

📜8.6K words | Approx. 37-min. read 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings. This chapter contains disturbing and potentially triggering heavy themes. Read at your own risk: Depictions of mental/emotional abuse and general asshole behavior, referenced tyranny, implied sex work, threat to induce a miscarriage, dubcon, themes of obsession, infidelity, revenge, loss & grief; postpartum depression, murderous intent & murder, virginity loss. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

“All rise for the King!”

The Dragon Pride Dojo was burdened with the honor of training the royal troops. The king would make impromptu visits every now and then to appraise the current status of his brigades, not because there was an imminent threat of war but because he was compulsive about being sure they were ready to be deployed at a moment's notice. They were already receiving their modern warfare training with the national army, but this was different—they were learning defensive combat here aimed at disarming, evading being a target, and survival skills in a captive situation. Who better to supervise this than The Grandmaster himself?

“Your majesty.”

The queen silently nodded to the clan master. While she was appreciative of the endeavors carried out in the name of the kingdom, no matter how symbolic that kingdom was, even a large hall filled with adrenaline and testosterone to the brim didn't prevent her from being bored out of her mind. Once she stepped foot on the kingdom grounds two years ago, her crushed hopes morphed into a permanent state of indifference and never changed colors again. A dull, bleak shade of gray. The theme song to her everlasting gloom.

Kingdom. Boredom. Same thing.

“We sincerely hope you are pleased with the current levels of proficiency of the troops, your excellency. They shall only get better at their craft.”

“Not bad at all,” the king flashed a perverse, crooked smile, “I want to watch a one-on-one of your two best fighters.”

Her eyes rolled all the way to the back of her head. This man and his goddamn bloodlust. That was the life she was supposed to live: being forced to go everywhere her beloved husband dragged her. Not because she was expected to offer opinions—who the fuck was she to be even capable of forming her own opinions anyway? What would she know about the intricacies of military arts as a woman? What would she know other than playing with her stupid little flowers, wasting ink on parchments, and making tea? 

“Of course, my king. Namjoon! Jungkook! Step forward.”

She was only there because her betrothed loved flaunting her around like a show pony. Young, beautiful, graceful, and a property signed to his name. She was there to be put on a display case, but ironically enough you weren't supposed to make direct eye contact with the queen, or even compliment her in any capacity.

If you valued your life, of course. 

Mercy and rational thought weren't exactly the king’s strong suit, and the government couldn't do shit about what was going down on his grounds. If the king could indulge in prostitution to his heart's content, host blood baths under the disguise of fight nights that always ended up in someone's demise, or order someone’s death just because he was irritated by the way they looked at him, it was only due to a long-standing arrangement between the parliament and the royal council.

I don't know you; you don't know me. Stay out of my business.

The young queen made her way towards the door that led to the little garden behind the dojo.

“Where do you think you're going?”

The commanding voice of the apple of her eye had zero effect on her because she wasn't afraid of him. She wasn’t afraid of him even when she was told she was going to spend the rest of her life as the lawfully wedded wife of a notorious tyrant. He possessed no sense of kindness, no affection, nothing—the man’s entire personality was a quilt made up of cardinal sins, but he did have a weakness for her. She knew it wasn’t love; her one and only was used to obtaining everything he laid his eyes on and he was just heavily obsessed with her. Not even her per se, just the idea of owning her, a woman a lot of men would kill to be able to call their wife. The beautiful countess in line for the throne. Her father had other plans for her, of course. Why have her be a countess when she could be a goddamn queen?

She didn’t have a choice in the matter—she had to marry him, but in the matters she had a choice in, that sick bastard had better mind his step. Just because they were married, it didn’t mean he could put his hands on her however the fuck he pleased. He had his concubines for that, and she couldn’t care less about what he did with them. If he tried something with her, she accepted no responsibility for the person she was going to turn into because she told him right from the start that she was going to sleep with a razor and he would have no way of knowing where she was hiding it.

She had learned how to hide it under her tongue without hurting herself long ago, though.

“This is Tatsumura silk. I don't want any blood on them,” she touched the robe hugging her body with her serene smile, “I'll be in the garden playing with my stupid little flowers.”

She walked out as gracefully as ever because that was what royalty was supposed to do. Be graceful even when they wanted to scream their lungs out out of despair. She spotted a woman grooming a jasmine shrub with her pruning shears and made her way over.

“They are so pretty,” she sat down on the empty stool next to her, “You’re The Grandmaster’s spouse, am I correct?”

The woman was startled to death when she noticed who was talking to her.

“Your highness!”

“Please! Please don't call me that. I can't stand it anymore.”

Do not address royalty as royalty? What then?! The woman was severely tongue-tied at this request.

“What– what should I call you your– your high–?”

“Hyejin is fine,” she smiled, “Really. It's more than fine. I've… I’ve never needed a friend more than I do now.”

That was the first time Hyejin cried in front of someone else. Even her crying was graceful. Quiet. After the woman got over the initial shock, she felt an overwhelming urge to offer comfort to that poor little thing. Yes, she may have been a queen, but even queens felt pain. She cut a piece of jasmine from the shrub and kneeled in front of this beautiful woman as if they were equals and attached the delicate flower to her silky hair like a jade comb. Hyejin smiled through her tears.

“Smiling suits you so much, Hyejin,” the woman reflected the broken fondness back to her, “My name is Jun. Can I offer you some tea?”

Tea. A listening ear. A shoulder to cry on. Hyejin didn't know why she spilled her guts to a complete stranger about the most private details of her life, not even caring what she would do with that information. She only knew that she had enough.

Over three cups of jasmine green tea, she told her new friend about her crazy husband she was forced to marry. King Yoongi, the textbook definition of a tyrant, who didn't actually give two shits about her. Who would spend most of his time getting drunk, fucking a bunch of concubines—sometimes even in their own marital bed, and playing god while his royal council made all the decisions on behalf of him. Some people were privy to listening to words of affection from their darling spouses while hers randomly kept reminding her that he would induce miscarriages if she wasn't able to give birth to a male heir. Well, he needed to be able to touch her in order to produce the said heir, but Hyejin was getting physically sick whenever he came close, making up excuses to prevent him from touching her. Headache, stomachache…

But her heartache. Her heartache caused by the reality that she had no way of knowing what being loved felt like was the actual reason.

"Jun, baby, when should we have dinn– Your highness!"

The young Grandmaster frantically bowed as soon as he made eye contact with the queen. Usually a man of so much composure and discipline, Minhyuk almost snapped his torso in half attempting to offer his respects.

“In about half an hour or so,” Jun responded and turned to her friend, “Hyejin, this is my neurotic husband Minhyuk. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“What are you doing?!” Minhyuk spoke through his clenched teeth, not quite sure why his wife was asking for a death sentence.

“It's fine! Please,” Hyejin looked at him with begging eyes, “I told her to call me by my first name. I would really love it if you also did that.”

Never in three lifetimes could Minhyuk imagine he would be getting such a request.

“R–Really?”

“Please,” she pleaded again, “I’m afraid I can’t stay for dinner this evening since I’m expected at the palace, but I would love to some time.”

And that was how this very unlikely friendship began under that roof. On the outside, she was always her highness, but with them, she was Hyejin. She loved being Hyejin. Thanks to nobody paying attention to whether she existed or not, Hyejin left the palace as frequently as she could in her ‘subject attire’ to visit them, and their bond grew much stronger over making pickles together, telling stories, planting flowers, and keeping secrets over many cups of tea.

Hyejin was very fond of Jun and Minhyuk. Just looking at them made her heart swell. How lucky for them that they seemed to have found each other, and if they weren’t the living proof that love and the concept of soulmates existed, then what was? 

It was indeed real—Hyejin just did not have the privilege of that.

It was okay, though. Seeing the only friends she had so in love with each other made her feel like she was still able to experience some things no matter how vicariously.

One windy evening, a knock was heard on their front door. Everybody that needed to be in that kitchen was already there, thus the feeling of acute onset uneasiness. Could that be someone from the palace? Did somebody finally notice Hyejin was spending a considerable amount of her time someplace else rather than being imprisoned in her chambers?

When Minhyuk approached the door with extreme caution, he was indeed met with the most unexpected guest, but in the most pleasant sense possible.

“James!” he broke into a gigantic smile and tightly embraced the man at the door, “What a pleasant surprise!”

James. Minhyuk’s brother from another mother. They had met at a bar several years ago when Minhyuk was overseas for a series of workshops and clicked over their mutual obsession with vintage cars downing many glasses of craft beer. Minhyuk being himself, he immediately developed a soft spot for James because the only thing he had akin to a family was the greenhouse his late father left him. Their friendship escalated to family status when James relocated to this city for a year just to experience the culture Minhyuk did an amazing job promoting, and by the end of it, he could make a meaner army stew than Jun’s. No matter the distance, they always knew they had another home somewhere on the other side of the world.

“Sorry for the unannounced visit, but I’m in dire need of friend therapy. I was about to drown,” the man shoved his hand into his bag to fish for something, “Where’s Jun? I brought her something.”

When the familiar voice hit her ears, Jun’s eyes widened and she dashed to the front door.

“Forget-me-not seeds for your garden. So that you guys won’t forget me,” James showed the bag to her with a big smile.

“No way!”

“Nuh uh. Hug first.” 

“Who could forget you, you dork? Come here!”

Hyejin was intrigued by the cheerful commotion by the front door. She carefully walked towards it with somewhat afraid steps and peeked at the trio behind a column. A very unfamiliar feeling that felt like a free fall in the pit of her stomach spread throughout her body when she saw the most beautiful man she had ever laid her eyes on. Honey skin, broad shoulders, unruly hair, a pair of dimples carved on his cheeks, crescent moon eyes. He smelled like waves crashing on a shore during sunset.

“James, this is Hyejin,” Minhyuk introduced his friend when he noticed the figure standing in silence, “She is uh…”

Minhyuk and Jun shared a brief concerned look. As far as they were concerned, Hyejin was just their friend. A friend that happened to be a fucking queen, yet not only did she hate being reminded of that fact, but also it wasn’t their place to explain what a queen was doing hanging out in a citizen’s home on her behalf. Even if they tried, James would most likely think it was an elaborate albeit hilarious prank anyway.

“A florist!” Hyejin answered in panic once she made eye contact with Jun, “I’m a florist.”

All eyes turned to James just to see whether he believed it or not, but he seemed like he was in another dimension completely. His eyes fixated on Hyejin with a somewhat blank expression and lips parted, he looked like he was struck by lightning at her sight. Then the tiniest of smiles appeared on his lips.

“Pleasure to meet you, Hyejin.”

As Minhyuk escorted his guest to the living room, the women returned to the kitchen to make some tea. Hyejin held onto her friend’s arm and pleaded with urgency in a hushed voice.

“Please don’t tell him anything about me being royalty.”

“Of course we wouldn’t,” Jun spoke with a comforting smile, “but rest assured James is one of the most trustworthy people you can ever come across. We would trust our lives with him.”

“It’s– It’s not that,” Hyejin looked at her feet somewhat embarrassed, “I wouldn’t want him to treat me differently just– just because–”

Jun put the teapot on the stove and examined Hyejin’s rose pink face, flushed through and through all the way up to her ears. Hyejin had always been an exquisite woman except for the times she went totally unfiltered courtesy of a little too much soju, but never once did she get flustered for any reason. Needless to say, this was the most entertaining thing ever for Jun.

“Hyejin, are you…?”

“Please.”

“Granted, you just saw the man like three seconds ago, but–”

“Jun, please.”

“I mean you would make a really cute couple.”

“Please!” Hyejin stomped her feet in desperation like a five-year-old, but absolutely couldn’t help the urge to ask while she was examining the floor tiles, “You really think we would?”

Jun burst into laughter at how endeared she was over Hyejin trying to be nonchalant while very obviously developing an instant crush, and squeezed the life out of her in an embrace. While the situation was indeed adorable, she felt the need to remind her friend of some hard truths with a broken smile and a whisper.

“If you weren’t a queen married to a crazy man, yes you would, sweetheart.”

Fascinating thing, love. The most uninvited of guests. A spoiled brat demanding what it desired with loud whines, could not be tamed at any cost. It wouldn't listen to you; you had to listen to it to make it stop crying. An infant that asked a lot of unintentionally deep questions, making you go through many existential crises in the meantime, but was not capable of understanding what logic was. 

Every time this man from the summerland opened his mouth, every time he smiled at her, every time their fingers brushed, with every word they uttered to each other, every second they spent in the presence of one another, Hyejin fell deeper in love. It hurt so bad that it felt so good, and that was exactly why Hyejin could casually declare she was going to visit her homeland for a while when in fact she never left the premises of the city. She became a semi-permanent guest in her friends’ cozy home instead. She might have been on borrowed time, but at least she was happy for once.

It was like an unspoken confession. A silent agreement where both parties did not care about anything else other than having each other's company. Talking about benign things like how much better croutons made tomato soup. Talking about fascinating things like how the two hemispheres of the world had different seasons. Forget-me-nots, secluded beaches, inkwash painting, making surfboards, talking, talking, talking just to hear the voice of the other person for days on end.

“I was really hoping you'd be here.”

Hyejin was sitting in the backyard of the guesthouse with her jasmine green tea, watching the night sky, and thinking about the summerland man. Secretly hoping he would sense her presence there. Maybe join her for a cup of tea and talk about constellations and whatnot.

“Y-you were?”

“Yes, I uh– There's something I'd like to tell you,” James sheepishly smiled while sitting down on the wooden chair next to hers, “I have been thinking about how to properly say it for days.”

Hyejin’s heart was beating so fast, but what was new? Every time she caught a glimpse of him, she was sure this time it was going to be a heart attack for her chest went berserk. He had his usual iodine scent on him, reminding her of the seashells she used to love collecting. Hyejin hadn’t been to the beach for god knows how long.

“Were you able to figure it out?” she offered him a cup of tea.

“Not really,” his smile evolved into a small chuckle, “That's why I really hope it doesn't come across as something ghastly because I seriously don't know how else to tell you this.”

“Is everything okay?”

Her porcelain features were tainted with worry. He was about to break her heart, wasn’t he? He was about to tell her that it had been nice, but he was going back, and they were never going to see each other again because—

“I think I'm in love with you, Hyejin.”

The words she wanted to hear for so long. The words she secretly hoped she would hear one day, words she wished upon many falling stars on nights like these. Logic? What logic? Logic had no business existing in the presence of love.

“Don’t–”

“Please listen,” he held her hands in his while looking deep into her eyes, “I can’t stop picturing you when I see something beautiful. I keep wishing you were with me when something bad happens because it wouldn’t hurt as much. You’re the first and last thing I think about every day.”

She felt her eyes welling up because of simultaneous euphoria and anguish. Because, me too, she wanted to say. She wanted to hold him for once. Feel what that was like. Inhale his oceany scent as much as she could. Surrender to the waves of the summerland and let them drift her wherever they may.

“I want us to be together, Hyejin.”

“You– You can't want me.”

No. That’s not what I meant. Please don’t let me push you away.

James looked like his entire world was collapsing. The sadness on his face was ripping Hyejin’s soul apart.

“But… why not?” 

How do I tell you there are things I don’t have any control over? How do I tell you this is where I want to be, but I curse my damn luck every day that I had to be born into a prison?

“Because I'm… I’m not who you think I am.”

“Maybe I'm not who you think I am, either.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're convinced whatever you are will make me want to walk away.”

Because it’s true. You will walk away. I don’t want to wake up just yet. Please.

“I've never felt this way before. I know it's you, Hyejin. You're the one for me.”

What a goddamn irony that the sweetest of words could cause immeasurable pain. How unfair it was that she didn’t have the luxury of drowning him in kisses in return. Thanking him for making her realize her heart was capable of feeling things. That she was maybe deserving of feeling those things, too.

“Would you please, please at least consider giving us a chance?” James pleaded with every ounce of yearning he could squeeze into his words, “I want you. And only you. I'll wait for you for a lifetime if that's what it takes.”

“James…”

Logic. Logic had no business existing in the presence of love, but honesty did. If he was going to leave, he needed to leave now—not when she was six feet under with the weight of the love she couldn’t contain inside her anymore.

“I'm married.”

“You… you're what?”

Shock. Of course. Quite a normal reaction. Hyejin naturally felt like the worst person that ever walked this earth.

“It's hard not to walk away from that, isn't it?” she uttered with a shattered smile.

Leave. Leave now. Not when I’m dying of the pain of missing you.

“Do you love him?”

“No.”

“Does he love you?”

“God, no.”

No one ever loved me besides you. I’m a property to be traded off.

“Then can’t you get a divorce?”

“I can't.”

“Why not?”

Hyejin took a deep breath. No point in tiptoeing around the truth anymore, was there?

“Marriages without a last name do not grant the right to divorce, James.”

She thought it would shock him further, anger him, maybe even scare him, but James spoke with sheer composure as if he was just stating some common knowledge.

“You’re married to the king.”

This. This was how he was going to get up and leave. Maybe say some things that were uncalled for as he was leaving, but he would be right. It would most definitely serve Hyejin right. Pushing the truth in the shadows was still lying, and nobody really deserved to be lied to.

Hyejin just nodded in response.

“But you don't love him.”

“I don't, but–”

“Do you love me?”

I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re the reason I know what happiness feels like. You’re all I could ever ask for.

“Don't ask me that.”

“Please,” James touched her face and brushed her cheekbone with his thumb, “Say you don't love me and I'll leave, but I know you do.”

Hyejin closed her eyes and leaned into the feeling. She was shivering all over. A simple touch. It was enough to induce violent eruptions all over her being.

“You feel it, too, don't you? You know we belong together.”

She wanted to believe it, but believing made it worse. There he was, her soulmate in front of her, begging her to take him with her. Any sane person would say yes, but Hyejin’s truths were ugly.

God, they were so so ugly.

“Doesn't… Doesn’t it bother you?” she asked with her voice slightly cracking.

“That the woman I love is married to some jackass? No,” James tried his hand in some inappropriate humor to make Hyejin smile, “That she is unhappy, on the other hand? Yes, very much.”

Cruel. This was just flat out cruel. She deserved this, too. She deserved to be the subject of a gaze filled to the brim with adoration. She deserved to be loved.

“We could be happy,” he kissed her hands, “I can make you very happy.”

“But I can never be yours.”

“On paper. So what?” James insisted, “I don’t care about the fine print. All I want is for you to give your heart to me.”

That would be an extremely redundant request because he already had her heart. For the longest time. He had her heart the first time he showed his dimples to her. 

“Will you? Will you give your heart to me? Make me the happiest man on earth?” he brought his face closer to hers, “Will you let me make you the happiest woman in the universe?”

There were many days Hyejin thought about how his lips would feel like on hers, and that night under that clear sky embellished with many shooting stars, she finally got her answer. Her first kiss. It made her feel like she was dying. James was healing her scars close one kiss at a time, ready to give everything the queen of his soul wanted. All she needed to do was ask. She could ask for the oxygen in his lungs for all he cared, and he would just happily oblige. Anything for her. He loved her. She loved him. And their need for each other was reaching a very dangerous line until Hyejin stopped him.

“I– I hav–”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” James apologized in panic, completely breathless, “I lost control for a moment. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I– I apologi–”

“It’s fine,” Hyejin smiled to him while cupping his face, “I just… I’m– I haven’t–”

It took a moment for James to gather his wits again and finally comprehend what Hyejin was struggling to say.

“But… You're married,” he spoke with slight confusion.

“I know,” she responded while heaving a sigh, “You would think being married and being a virgin are not mutually exclusive, but here we are.”

“It’s alright. We don’t have to,” he kissed her hands again and flashed a very loving reassuring smile with those crescent eyes of his, “As long as I can hold you in my arms, I’m content.”

What did I ever do to deserve you?

Hyejin could get lost in his doe eyes for an eternity. It was impossible to contain the amount of affection she harbored for this man. It was her that initiated the kiss this time, with the intention of just kissing him, showing how much she loved him with little pecks all over his face, but it was her who couldn’t control how rapidly it was escalating again.

“I want to,” she whispered against his lips “I want it to be with you.”

“Hyejin, you don’t have t–”

“I know, but it’s you.”

“Are you sure?”

She’d had enough. Enough with having to make rational decisions for the greater good. Enough with being so restrained so that she wouldn’t dishonor the lineage. To hell with witnessing her own demise one day at a time. It was time to live for once, and that time was now. She kissed him as an answer and dragged him into the guesthouse.

“Touch me.”

Everything clicked all of a sudden. It felt so right, so natural with James like this was where she was supposed to be all along and she just got lost trying to make her way to him. For once in her life, Hyejin felt like she found her home. She belonged. She belonged right here with him as he stripped her, as they kissed the life out of each other, as he made her feel things she never knew were possible, quietly moaning one another’s names as they descended into insanity together over and over and over again.

“I love you. God, I love you so much,” James spoke against her supple skin, “I want to make love to you all night. Every day. As long as I breathe.”

That night, Hyejin was slowly dying in his arms, but she had never felt so alive.

Careless. 

She was getting careless because logic had no business existing in the presence of love. All Hyejin could think about was him, him, and him only. His smile that instantly brightened her day, washing away all her worries. His touch that she was constantly craving. His embrace that she wanted as her blanket every night she put her head on her pillow, but she was getting too careless to notice somebody started questioning her frequent disappearances from the grounds.

And it was the best and worst thing that ever happened to Hyejin when she found out she was carrying her soulmate’s child.

“What are you going to do?” Jun asked her all concerned, awestruck by the sheer determination her dear friend was exhibiting.

“I’m going to have this baby.”

“And how will you explain that to a certain lunatic exactly?”

She had thought about everything to make this happen, albeit through utterly ludicrous means. Be around a maniac long enough, their insanity was of course going to rub on you.

“If he thinks it’s his…”

“Are you actually going to sleep with him?!”

“God, no,” Hyejin shook her head in utter disgust, “I’ll just pretend.”

“But what if it’s a girl?”

“Then I’ll adopt a boy under a different name. I’ll raise this baby no matter what.”

“Hyejin, you’re not thinking straight.”

“Are you with me or not?!”

This was the first time Jun saw Hyejin this frantic. Desperate. Of course. Of course she was going to be by her side, but there was nothing else she could do besides keep praying that this scheme had better work.

It had to work. 

The first time Hyejin let her husband see her naked was after getting him dead drunk. It nauseated her beyond words to let him touch her, pretend she was riding him as he kept spewing all kinds of profanities with his wine-ridden breath. This wasn’t him in bed with his wife, but more like one of his disposable concubines. She closed her eyes, did her utmost best to filter out Yoongi’s slurring voice, and manifest James behind her eyelids instead so that it was somewhat bearable. She didn’t get off of him even after he ejaculated and waited patiently until he blacked out, immediately cleaning him to leave no traces behind. Then she dashed to the bathroom to hurl her lungs out.

The secret was getting a bit too noticeable to keep, but Hyejin was adamant to do whatever was necessary including not seeing James for a while. Being the only person who could visit the grounds, Minhyuk assumed the role of being their messenger under the disguise of paying his respects to her excellency. He was one of the privileged individuals who were in possession of the classified knowledge that was the secret passages in and out of the palace. He had to know that for tactical training purposes, but no one forbade him from abusing his power to aid and abet James and Hyejin, the only people besides Jun that mattered to him.

“This will take you to the guesthouse exit,” Minhyuk handed her a brass key after giving her detailed directions, “I’ll bring him there when the time is right. Please be patient just a while longer.”

Be patient. That was all Hyejin was able to do lately. She hid herself under many layers of robes to hide how much she was showing and didn’t leave her chambers unless absolutely necessary until one fateful afternoon, she got the news she was anxiously waiting for.

“It’s a boy, your highness.”

Hyejin cried. She cried many tears of relief that day. She cried many tears of happiness when she finally saw the love of her life behind an iron door.

“Is it true?” James asked utterly excited between his kisses, “We’re having a boy?”

When she nodded, he broke down crying with her, wrapping the woman he loved in a tight embrace, kissing every inch of her he could possibly place a kiss on. Much like the stolen nights they shared together, the moment of euphoria was nothing but ephemeral. There were uglier truths they had to face. Again. For the millionth time.

“I won’t be able to leave the palace for a long while,” Hyejin uttered in a somber voice, “I– I understand if you want to leave.”

“I’m never leaving you, you hear me?” James declared with so much dedication, “Never.”

When he touched Hyejin’s pregnant belly, he let himself get lost in momentary bliss, a smile invading his lips through and through.

“I can already see my boy having a sibling,” he kissed her forehead, “A sister he will be so overprotective of. Or a brother he’s gonna wreak havoc with.”

“Let’s talk in another six months or so,” Hyejin pulled him into a kiss again before returning to her chambers.

Lucky for Hyejin, she actually spent a very healthy pregnancy, but to anybody who asked, she was going to tell them her baby boy was born prematurely. To nobody’s surprise, the king was nowhere to be found during her labor. All he cared about was that it was a boy, literally nothing else.

“What are you going to name the young master, your highness?” her aide Mina placed the little boy in her embrace. Hyejin’s eyes fell on the brown globe residing on her study and the iron piece on top of it. 

Southwest. Northeast. Two opposite pieces of a compass.

“Christopher,” she replied with a tired smile.

“You’re giving the young master a foreign name?” Mina asked in mild shock.

“He will represent the land of tidal waves. The foreign values we should adopt,” she resolutely declared as if she was giving a lecture, “One of these days, his sibling will represent the land of high mountains—our traditional principles we will keep until the end of time, and will be named accordingly.”

That little show passed as something very meaningful in the eyes of the palace residents, including Yoongi, but little did they know little Chris was actually named after James’ father. The only person Hyejin confided in with the truth was Mina. She was the final accomplice to help Jun and Minhyuk hide her affair and the illegitimacy of Chris. And they were doing such a great job at it, too.

“Look at him, Mina!” Hyejin lifted her son in a little tuxedo, “James is going to die seeing these pictures.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but the young master looks a lot like Sir James, your highness,” Mina spoke with a fond smile, “Most definitely the disorderly hair.”

“He’s his father’s son after all, aren’t you baby?”

“Is that so?” 

The only voice that could have the effect of a nuclear bomb dropping in that room. Yoongi’s. Hyejin’s blood froze, and terror was written all over her face. She handed her boy to Mina and gestured her to get out.

“Tell me one good reason I shouldn’t make your bastard child disappear right fucking now,” he kept slowly making his way into her chambers like a snake slithering towards its prey.

Think. Think! Something. Anything.

Hyejin had lived her entire life under pressure, learning the ins and outs of royal politics. What to say and what not to say. That was how she knew there was nothing more important than saving face at whatever cost.

“If the word spreads this isn’t your child, it would be unmitigated blasphemy, your excellency.”

“True, but accidents happen every day, don’t they Hyejin? I'm sure I'll have public sympathy if I tell them I just wanted to purge my honor.”

Please. Kill me if you want but don't touch him.

He could. And he would if he wanted to, but Yoongi was an opportunist if nothing else. The matter of the fact was he didn't give a damn about the betrayal, but Hyejin didn't need to know that. He could live with the pseudo-hurt of his pride as long as he got something in return that would make up for it.

Curse the day he saw this woman bare in front of him no matter how blurry.

“Here's what's going to happen, my beautiful wife,” he stood right behind Hyejin and pecked her nape, immediately making her skin crawl, “You’re gonna give yourself to me very voluntarily and I will not touch the kid.” 

He brushed her hair with his veiny fingers and whispered his quiet threat into her ear.

“And I will be fully sober this time to make sure it’s me who breeds you,” he placed a soft kiss on her earlobe before leaving, “Be ready for me tonight, or say goodbye to your boy.”

Kill me if you want but don't touch him. Hyejin wished for it herself. This was no different than death, but it was at least temporary. She spent the entire day by her son, whispering how much he loved him through her tears and begging for his forgiveness. When the time to surrender finally arrived, she urged Mina to never leave his side and walked to her chambers to embrace her fate. It was going to be okay; she was just going to lay there, let him do whatever he wants, and then it was going to be over. It was going to be fine.

“Stop crying. I’m getting soft.”

That was the moment Hyejin’s tear glands stopped working. She wasn’t feeling anything anymore—just catatonically laying there, counting down the seconds until her sentence was over, feeling sore between her legs until he came inside her with loud grunts.

“This better hold as a boy. Otherwise, you know what will happen,” Yoongi reminded her while getting dressed, “And don’t think this changes anything. You’re no different than the whores I fuck.”

He waited. He waited patiently for weeks until he learned the sex of the baby. So that he knew how much blood was going to be on his hands. If it was a girl, Yoongi had no problem wiping the slate clean and doing everything all over again until he had a male heir to the throne of his own descent.

“It’s a boy, your highness.”

Hyejin cried again. That day, she cried many tears of relief mixed with the unbearable heaviness of the burden on her heart.

Northeast. The land of high mountains. It indeed brought a blizzard with him. 

Yoongi’s alleged condition was simple. He wasn’t going to lay a finger on Chris if Hyejin agreed to sleep with him.

“Your highness! You have to warn Sir James!”

He hadn’t promised anything about not doing anything to his father, of course.

While Mina was Hyejin’s aide, her husband Jiyong was Yoongi’s, and not so shockingly, they had this collective loathing towards the king. Thanks to whatever stars aligned that day, Jiyong had overheard the king plotting to kill both the child and the father with his right-hand men, trying to come up with ways to make it go away as silently as possible.

“Send Jiyong to Minhyuk. Quietly. Tell James to get ready to leave tonight. I’ll be waiting for them at our usual spot at our usual time. They’ll know what it means. Hurry!”

One last goodbye. That was all she was afforded. A heartbreaking farewell until who knew when. Hyejin knew what she was getting herself into when she fell for this man. The love of her life. The father of her child, but she would be damned if she let anything happen to him because of her while she was alive.

“You need to go into hiding,” she instructed him with a trembling voice that was so unlike her, “Do not tell anyone where you are, not even Minhyuk. He’s the first person they’ll come after if things go south.”

“Baby please,” James begged her, having absolutely no control over his tears, “Please don’t do this to us.”

“You have to understand how serious this is. We’ve run out of time,” Hyejin threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly until she carved his outline on her body, “I love you. I’ll find you one day.” 

“I’ll wait for you,” he kissed his other half one last time, “I’ll wait for you until my last breath. I promise, Hyejin.”

So quick. So fragile. Like it never happened. 

With one-third of her soul gone, the beautiful queen turned a little more morose every day. Wilting. And wilting. And wilting. Falling into a state of despair so deep that at some point she wanted to induce the miscarriage she was always threatened with on her own. When her momentary lapse of sanity was overthrown by her maternal instincts, she was utterly ashamed of herself. Absolutely disgusted. What a complete excuse of a human being she was for even considering it, willing to take her anguish out on a soul that was in no way at fault.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin,” she caressed her pregnant belly while letting her tears create a torrent in her chambers, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up to her baby boy’s cradle upon his cooing sounds and held him in her arms as gently as possible.

“You’re never leaving me. Neither of you.”

Hyejin could not leave the grounds even after Hyunjin was born. She knew she had several pairs of eyes watching her every step. The only contact she had with the outside world was Minhyuk. They met every time he visited the palace for training purposes, usually chatting about this and that to distract Hyejin and giving each other life updates. That particular morning by the guesthouse pond was certainly not one of their regular talks.

“I need him gone, Minhyuk,” Hyejin coldly uttered with her eyes fixated on the koi fish.

Minhyuk wasn’t even slightly fazed at this confession because quite frankly he had been expecting that way sooner.

“You’re crazy if you think you can get away with offing him yourself.”

“Look into my eyes and tell me I would be able to stop you if Jun was in danger.”

“You wouldn’t,” he leisurely responded while crumbling some more bread into the pond, “but I wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it myself, either.”

Because if King Yoongi had the means to plot shit, so did they. Anybody who thought poor Queen Hyejin was drifting through this world all by herself was gravely mistaken.

What better reason for a gathering than a feast to celebrate another male heir? The male heir. The dimly-lit Grand Hall full of people accompanied by The Royal Gugak Ensemble providing the tunes of the king’s favorite pieces. Perfectly done lamb chops, roasted vegetables, the rarest delicacies, the sweetest desserts. All kinds of alcohol raining like it’s monsoon season. Haze. Smoke. Dancers. Everybody’s so satiated that nobody notices the king’s drinks are being laced the entire night. Then a night in heaven for the king with his favorite concubines because he did such a great job impregnating the queen with a boy.

“It’s a very special cause for celebration,” Hyejin explained to the king’s favorites personally, “Whatever you do, make sure he has fun. Don’t let him rest. Understood?”

Such a request coming from the king’s actual wife, anybody would be weirded out.

“Your highness, are you su–”

“Do you want your freedom or not, woman?” she chastised the young girl who didn’t look a day older than twenty one, “Do as I say and do not speak a word of this to anyone.”

Just so they got the message and there was no room for confusion, Hyejin drew her freshly sharpened dagger she was sleeping with and pointed it at the entertainers.

“Not. A word. To anyone.”

Minhyuk was among the guests of honor that day although Hyejin would have loved to see Jun with him. She welcomed him at the gates of the Grand Hall and spoke discreetly under a smile while shaking his hand.

“You need to stay close to him. Our lives are in your hands now.”

Close? Minhyuk became Yoongi’s number one hypeman, forcing him to down drink after drink. A couple of hours later the king excused himself, graciously allowing the guests to continue with the festivities as he left to have a little private party of his own. When the queen was summoned to his chambers for an emergency, she was told that the king had passed away due to a heart attack seemingly induced by overdosing while… you know.

“This is way too abominable to announce to the public,” Hyejin coldbloodedly declared to the doctor, “You’re going to cite the cause of death as an acute heart attack and that’s final. No autopsy needed.”

“Your highness–”

“You’re going to cite it as a goddamn heart attack if you do not wish to join him and Hippocrates for a drink.”

A stream of condolences. Poor widow queen, whatever. Once the pandemonium of grief formalities calmed down, Minhyuk and Jun paid a visit to Hyejin through proper means for the first time in a long time. She hugged them both like she was welcoming a sibling coming back from war.

“I just want you to know I’m indebted to you both forever.”

“Yes, you are,” Jun faked a retort, “That’s why we have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

She took off her coat to show her pregnant belly which looked like she was due very soon. That was legitimately the only thing that could lift Hyejin’s spirits besides the possibility of some news from James.

“We’re having a baby girl,” Jun flashed a very big smile, “I hope she grows up to be like you. I want her to be as graceful as a queen, strong, and full of passion. Maybe you’ll give her etiquette classes, huh?”

She would. Of course she would. If only Jun was alive to see that, maybe they could even share some laughs about it. On the day of her burial, Hyejin planted a little jasmine shrub by her grave and watered it with plenty of water as well as her tears.

“I'll miss you so much, sweetheart,” she pressed her fingers to her lips and touched the black marble headstone.

“Hyunjin, stay away from your brother. You’ll get sick!”

“But mom!”

After Hyunjin’s birth, Hyejin struggled with postpartum depression for quite a while, courtesy of several back-to-back tragedies. It was actually a miracle she was able to give birth to a healthy baby boy considering everything she had been through. One residual side effect of her dark days was that she was always unintentionally harder on Hyunjin than Chris, but couldn’t help the instant melting when he looked at her with those big eyes and sun rays of hair.

“To your room, sunshine. Please.”

As Hyunjin walked back to his chambers with loud grunts, Hyejin walked towards Chris’ bed where he was buried under his duvet looking like a feverish burrito.

“Can we please go see the ships, mom? Please?”

“Baby, you’re sick.”

“Please?”

She sighed and caved immediately. Her baby boy was a miniature copy of his father—how could she ever say no to him?

“Mina, take care of Hyunjin for me, okay? We’ll be back shortly.”

The mother and son hid in their subject attires and masks to prevent being recognized in public and headed towards The Marina Square. Hyejin didn’t know why Chris had this fascination with the sea and ships in particular, but he just did. Maybe it was some inexplicable hereditary trait from his father, who knew? During their serene visits to the seaside, she frequently found herself thinking of ways to repay Minhyuk and honor Jun. When she had offered to take you in or at least let her help him in some way, Minhyuk unequivocally refused, insisting on raising his baby girl all on his own. All she could do was keep an eye on him and you from afar instead under the disguise of casual visits to the dojo. Much like that afternoon.

“How’s the world’s best brother doing?”

It was one of the rare incidents that she had Chris with her because the boys did not really leave the palace. Every time Minhyuk saw Chris, they were both reminded of a certain someone who was still hidden god knows where.

“Any word from…? You know,” Hyejin discreetly asked and Minhyuk shook his head no as usual. She knew he would let her know the second he heard anything, but… Habits.

She took Chris’ mask off to give him his medicine. Right at that moment, someone she was waiting to see popped up out of nowhere and ran towards Chris at full speed. Minhyuk’s little girl. You. 

Chris’ flushed cheeks entertained you so much that you burst into a giggling fit.

“You look like an apple,” you poked his cheeks, “I really like it.”

“You look like an apple, too,” Chris pointed at your yellow sweater with a bunny on it.

“Apples are red.”

“There are yellow apples, too.”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

When you started squishing his cheeks as an attack, Minhyuk and Hyejin immediately intervened to break up the fight, but something had left you very much surprised.

“Why are you so warm?” you looked at him with gigantic eyes.

“He’s sick, sweetheart,” your father informed you, “Don’t get too close, okay?”

It made you so sad to hear that the apple boy was sick. Although your father told you to stay away, you couldn’t help the urge to hold his hands.

“Don’t worry, okay? My dad knows how to fight. We will beat up your germs and you will be healthy again!”

The parents looked at each other while sharing the exact same fond smile. You kissed the apple boy’s warm cheek out of the blue and waved him goodbye.

“Bye, apple!”

As you were leaving, Hyejin finally mustered enough courage to ask something of Minhyuk she had been wanting to ask for the longest time. 

“Would you consider training your godson?” she requested with the softest voice ever, “It would mean a lot to me. You’re the only father figure he has.”

He affectionately smiled. Of course. Of course he would.

One interesting remnant from that day was that Chris randomly started asking for apples from his mother every now and then. Being reminded of your sweater, Hyejin carved bunnies out of yellow apples for him the first time, and even years later, this habit of his didn’t change—it needed to be yellow bunny apples. Whenever he was eating the fruit, he picked one up and looked at the shape fondly, and every time he did that, it instantly reminded Hyejin of that brief moment you exchanged at the dojo.

It was absurd to even think about it, but what if… What if her treasure had a soulmate of his own? What if he didn’t have to wait a lifetime to meet them? What if he had a chance at the happiness that she never got to have with hers?

And what if that soulmate was you?

She had been keeping an eye on you for years, and as you were growing up, she saw so much of Chris in you that it was borderline ridiculous. She was convinced. She couldn’t explain why, but she was convinced. One minor setback in the way of proving her so-called theory was the possibility of Chris falling in love with someone else until he met you again. That’s why she needed an excuse for you two to cross paths—none of your environments were the same and Minhyuk was naturally refusing to be a part of this mumbo jumbo.

“Minhyuk, please. I know they are meant to be. Just… Just let them meet each other once.”

“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Hyejin. They’re kids.”

“Just once. You’ll see I’m right.”

“No.” 

“Didn’t you believe Jun was your soulmate the second you saw her?”

“Yes, but no one arranged it. If they’re really meant to be as you claim they are, they will meet each other anyway. There’s no point in forcing destiny down someone’s throat. Let it go.”

They will meet each other anyway.

Considering everything Hyejin had been through up until that moment, it seemed like too much of a gamble to leave everything to sheer luck.

NEXT CHAPTER»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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I apologize for the monstrosity. I didn't want to drag this update any longer so I decided to divide the original chapter I planned in half. I'll be back soon!

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-R. (CB97%)

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---

dear author,

i just need to give you praise. a ton of it. i have never read a fic where gods and greek/roman mythology is so beautifully intertwined with a modern day story and i'm in awe. i genuinely loved this so much and i'm sure ending is left up to reader but i hope at some point we can see another part. a closure for reader and yet a new history to be written for mc and chan.

— from eden

❝ all my life i've been heading for hell, but never had i thought i'd drag you down as well. ❞

synopsis: god created adam & eve… and then eve fell in love with the snake in her garden.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

genres: angst, smut, god!au, non idol!au, college!au, past lives, soul bonds

word count: 18.3k

warnings: 18+, religious themes/references, unprotected sex (practice safe sex pls), cheating, marking, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), light corruption kink (reader is a virgin), chan cums inside, slight major character death but he lives don’t worry!

m.list

playlist

a/n: the creation story is just a summary of the actual verse or wtv, but the adam & eve story is not the original. this fic's version of "God" is not the version of God that christians or other religions worship. it is simply my take on religion & spirituality. greek mythology and christianity are kind of intertwined here, but it is not a reflection of the actual religions or mythologies that the original stories are from, so with that being said, enjoy! & thank u @yeonjunszn for helping me & betaing for me 🫶🏻 love u (gay) and forever appreciate u. if u didn’t help i’m sure i would have died (real). also! new drinking game ! take a shot whenever Chan tells Cato to shut up!

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall, and Eve pliantly went along with it. 

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God. 

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm? 

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room. 

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it. 

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living. 

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan. 

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more. 

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again. 

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice. 

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

— 

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order. 

Not if he wants food on the table. 

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking. 

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple. 

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds. 

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps. 

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping. 

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically. 

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy. 

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening? 

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it. 

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes. 

That’s called a job. 

I don’t work here. 

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal. 

Didn’t know God can get hangry. 

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude. 

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that. 

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is Y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight. 

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you. 

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!” 

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production. 

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything. 

His stomach growls. He groans quietly. 

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat. 

Will you shut the fuck up?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth. 

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish. 

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder. 

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck? 

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.” 

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower. 

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler. 

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.” 

The way you said that just sounds so… weird. 

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes. 

For us, yeah. 

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you. 

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent. 

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?” 

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears. 

She’s so lonely. 

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan is reeling. 

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt. 

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now. 

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.” 

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one; it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get know you by yourselves. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed. 

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches. 

I felt that. 

Shut up. 

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles. 

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.” 

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again. 

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it. 

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.” 

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud. 

Don’t ask that. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.” 

Don’t ask that. 

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?” 

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.” 

I don’t like that answer. 

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.” 

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands. 

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed. 

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun. 

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow. 

This time, Chan does roll his eyes. 

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture. 

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute. 

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile.  “You ready?” 

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response. 

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side. 

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break. 

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud. 

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward. 

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?” 

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries. 

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face. 

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face. 

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover. 

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles. 

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check. 

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday. 

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way. 

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs. 

It means she likes you, idiot. 

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you. 

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.” 

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him. 

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes. 

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words. 

Oh! You pathetic man. 

Stop. 

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him. 

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his. 

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips. 

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets. 

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down. 

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.” 

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh. 

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine. 

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.” 

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance. 

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations. 

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.” 

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato. 

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it. 

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear. “I love you.”

Chan smiles. “I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that. 

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.” 

And you slept with her. 

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?” 

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.” 

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening. 

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.” 

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather. 

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan. 

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man. 

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch. 

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again. 

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back. 

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said. 

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers. 

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil. 

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover. 

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face. 

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber. 

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.” 

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

— 

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath. 

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot. 

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!” 

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?” 

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you. 

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling. 

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him. 

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body. 

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness. 

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond, finally looking up at his creator through his bangs. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas. 

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired. 

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

© lvandrmoon — all rights reserved. no reposting

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1/509 until jimin is back ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

cr. namuspromised

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abandoned space elevator

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bloody hell | jjk drabble

⏤𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴; luckily, your boyfriend is there to get you through the pain

⏤𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: jungkook x reader

⏤𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, smut, established relationship

⏤𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.7k

⏤𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: strong language, unexpected period sex (kind of), unprotected sex, dirty talk, anal play, creampie, kinda rough sex, jungkook calls reader ‘baby’ a lot, pregnancy talk

Curled on the bed, it takes him approximately two minutes to get into the room, until you hear his sports bag dropping onto the floor before he joins you. Instantly cuddling up to you, you’re met with the scent of his shower gel, which means he took a shower in the gym.

You shiver at the feeling of his lips at the back of your neck, where he pecks your skin. “I’ve missed you.”

The confession is enough to make you swoon all over him, but you know he could be doing anything or nothing, and your heart would beat the same way like it always does when it comes to him.

“You were gone for hour an half,” you chuckle, placing your arms on top of his as he brings you closer to him. “I’ve missed you too.”

Keep reading

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@frostinepac3

Lmao

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What????????

I'm losing my goddamn mind

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