Chapter Text
The morning sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, spilling golden warmth across the room. Dust motes floated lazily in the light, and somewhere outside, birds were chirping faintly, soft, distant reminders that another day had begun.
The first thing Seungcheol noticed was how warm the bed felt, the way the sheets tangled around his legs, and the heavy, quiet air of a house still asleep. Then came the ache— a dull, tired heaviness that settled in his shoulders and back. He groaned, dragging a hand over his face, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.
Becoming a new parent wasn’t easy, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done— but he’d volunteered himself into every challenge with no regrets. He was the one who got up in the middle of the night whenever one of the pups whimpered, who stayed awake until they fell back asleep, who soothed their cries with gentle hums and tired smiles.
It had become a rhythm now— exhaustion, yet wrapped in love.
He shifted slightly, blinking at the ceiling before turning his head. His gaze softened immediately.
Jeonghan was still asleep beside him. The morning light hit him perfectly, his pale hair glowed faintly gold, his skin almost luminous beneath the covers. His lips were slightly parted, his breathing calm and even, one hand resting protectively on the pillow as if reaching for Seungcheol in his dreams.
A soft smile crept onto Seungcheol’s lips before he could stop it.
He could never get used to this. The sight of Jeonghan sleeping was a quiet miracle— fragile, beautiful, and real. Sometimes, when the house was silent like this, Seungcheol still couldn’t believe it was all his— the little home they built, the family they made.
His heart tightened with something tender. When Jeonghan gave birth, everything had changed. The moment he held their first pup, then the second, and third— his world had shifted completely. But it wasn’t easy. The birth had been difficult for Jeonghan’s body, soft and small compared to his, had weakened after pushing out three wolf pups.
Seungcheol remembered every moment— how his hands trembled when he held Jeonghan after it was over, how Jeonghan smiled through the exhaustion just to reassure him. He’d been so afraid to lose him then.
Now, every time he looked at him, he was reminded of that, of how fragile and strong Jeonghan could be all at once. It made Seungcheol cherish him more, love him deeper, protect him fiercely.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jeonghan’s face. His fingers lingered there, tracing the soft line of his cheek, the faint curve of his lips. Jeonghan’s nose scrunched a little at the touch, and Seungcheol huffed out a quiet laugh.
“Still as cute as ever,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
He shifted closer until he was half leaning over Jeonghan, one arm propped on the mattress. The world outside was starting to wake, but here, everything was still. Just the two of them.
He leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss on Jeonghan’s cheek. The skin there was warm. He couldn’t stop at just one— he never could. His lips wandered down to Jeonghan’s jawline, then to the curve of his neck, slow and unhurried.
Jeonghan stirred slightly under the touch, humming faintly, his hand shifting over Seungcheol’s chest. The sight made Seungcheol’s heart soften even more. He trailed another kiss lower, letting his nose nuzzle into Jeonghan’s neck before biting softly, just enough to make him shift again.
“Mmh…” Jeonghan murmured, half-asleep still, “Cheol…”
The sound made Seungcheol smile against his skin. “Morning, love,” he whispered, voice deep and fond.
He didn’t get a response— just a lazy hum and a faint giggle when Seungcheol continued pressing small kisses along his shoulder. The warmth between them was easy, familiar— the kind that came from years of love and quiet mornings like this.
Jeonghan eventually stirred, eyelids fluttering open to the sight of Seungcheol hovering above him, his hair a sleepy mess and his grin already forming.
“Hi, Jeonghan mumbled, voice still hazy with sleep.
“Hello, bun,” Seungcheol murmured back, his tone low and husky— the kind that sent shivers down Jeonghan’s spine no matter how many mornings they’d shared.
Before Jeonghan could even stretch, Seungcheol leaned down and kissed him again. It started innocent— soft, chaste, a greeting. But then Jeonghan’s hand came up to tug at the collar of Seungcheol’s shirt, and that was all it took.
The kiss deepened. Their lips moved in a rhythm they knew too well. Jeonghan’s fingers threaded through Seungcheol’s hair, pulling him closer, until their breaths mingled and the sheets rustled beneath them. Seungcheol smiled against his lips, one hand slipping down to rest against Jeonghan’s hip, thumb tracing lazy circles over the thin fabric of his clothes.
“Mmh…” Jeonghan sighed into the kiss, tilting his head as Seungcheol’s mouth wandered down the side of his neck again, right to the spot that always made him squirm.
“Cheol…” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, his tone carrying that same soft plea that made Seungcheol’s chest ache with love.
Seungcheol chuckled against his skin, murmuring, “You sound so pretty in the mornings.”
Jeonghan swatted his arm half-heartedly, but the next kiss stole away whatever protest he had planned. The room felt warmer now— sunlight creeping further in, the scent of pine and smoke from the night before lingering faintly in the air.
Seungcheol’s hand moved up to cup Jeonghan’s cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip before leaning in for another slow kiss. The world outside could wait— breakfast, chores, even the pups, everything could wait for a moment longer.
But then— A sound broke through the quiet. A low, muffled howl echoed faintly from the next room.
Both of them froze.
Jeonghan blinked, his lips still parted as he stared up at Seungcheol. Then came another noise— higher this time, followed by a soft thud.
“Oh no…” Jeonghan’s eyes widened, and then he laughed.
Seungcheol dropped his head to Jeonghan’s shoulder, groaning dramatically. “Already?”
Jeonghan was laughing now, the sound bright and clear. “I think your kids are awake,” he teased, brushing his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair.
Seungcheol looked up at him with a playful smirk. “I think they’re more of your kids.”
Jeonghan grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. “Then you better go get my loud kids before they tear down the house.”
Seungcheol leaned forward, stealing one last kiss— slow, warm, a quiet promise tucked between breaths.
“Fine, fine,” he whispered against Jeonghan’s lips, smiling. “I’ll go get them.”
He lingered for one heartbeat longer, brushing his thumb along Jeonghan’s jaw before finally pulling away. The bed creaked softly as he stood, stretching with a quiet groan before glancing back one more time— the sight of Jeonghan still tangled in the sheets, smiling sleepily, was enough to make his chest feel too full.
“Don’t move too much,” Seungcheol said gently, his voice laced with fondness. “I’ll be right back, bun.”
And with that, he padded toward the door, the faint sounds of little wolf pups already growing louder from down the hall.
Jeonghan giggled softly, sitting up with a lazy stretch, the sheets pooling around his waist. The sunlight had shifted now, scattering through the curtains in soft, golden lines that kissed his skin. He could still feel the ghost of Seungcheol’s lips on his neck, the warmth lingering like a secret promise
.
He glanced around their cozy home— the faint scent of smoke from last night’s fire still hung in the air, mixed with pine and the sweetness of the flowers. Everything about this life, this quiet morning, felt like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.
Jeonghan’s hand unconsciously drifted to his chest as a small laugh escaped him. His heart was full to the brim, overflowing with warmth for the man he loved and the little family they built together.
Then, the sound of a creaking door pulled him out of his thoughts.
He looked— and there was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway, looking every bit the proud, exhausted father he was. His arms were full,literally. Three tiny bodies clung to him like little koalas: their three pups, all with messy hair and round, sleepy faces.
Jeonghan felt his chest tighten, his eyes stinging a little. “Oh, my babies…” he whispered, his voice cracking softly.
Seungcheol chuckled, stepping inside carefully, trying not to drop anyone. “I swear, they get heavier every week,” he said, though his grin gave away that he didn’t really mind.
Minjae, the youngest, was the first to wriggle free. He scrambled down from Seungcheol’s arms and practically wobbled his way toward Jeonghan with the determined energy of a pup who’d just learned how to run. Behind him, Yeonseo, the eldest — followed at a slower, steadier pace, rubbing his eyes with his small hands.
And still clinging to Seungcheol’s leg was Sejun, their middle child, whose curls stuck up in every direction. He refused to move, his little arms wrapped tightly around his Dada’s pants.
“Oh, you wanna be carried, Sejun?” Seungcheol said with a soft laugh, crouching down to scoop him up again. “Come here, buddy.”
Sejun giggled sleepily as Seungcheol kissed his cheek, his tiny hand patting Seungcheol’s face in response.
Jeonghan watched them, his heart melting at the sight. All three of their pups looked like Seungcheol— with his dark gray hair, his sharp little ears that twitched at every sound, and those wolfish amber eyes that somehow softened when they looked at Jeonghan. But each of them carried something from him too, the gentle roundness of their cheeks, the soft curls of their hair, and that serene sweetness in their smiles.
“My strong little wolves,” Jeonghan giggled, opening his arms wide as Minjae climbed into his lap and Yeonseo carefully climbed up beside him. “Did you sleep well, my loves?”
Minjae’s laughter bubbled out immediately as he hugged his Papa tight, his tiny face squished against Jeonghan’s chest. Yeonseo nodded shyly, pressing a kiss to Jeonghan’s arm, while Sejun let out a tiny yawn from the safety of Seungcheol’s embrace— clearly still half-asleep.
“Aww, I see,” Jeonghan said dramatically, his tone playful. “You woke your brother!”
That earned a fit of giggles from Yeonseo and Minjae, who quickly covered their mouths to hide it. Sejun just blinked blearily at them, confused but still pouting in his Dada’s arms.
Seungcheol shook his head with a smile, stepping closer to the bed. “Alright, alright, no teasing the sleepy one,” he said, lowering Sejun gently onto the mattress beside his siblings.
“You all stay here and behave while Dada cooks breakfast, okay?”
Jeonghan reached out to gather the pups close, one on each side and Sejun curled in his lap, his arms full of warmth and soft giggles. He looked up at Seungcheol with a smile that could melt steel. “We’ll stay right here,” he said.
Seungcheol leaned in, brushing a few strands of hair away from Jeonghan’s face. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips— quick, gentle, but full of affection.
Except before he could pull away, a tiny fist tapped at his leg. He froze and looked down. Yeonseo stood there with a serious little frown, his tiny eyebrows furrowed. “Hey— what’s this?” Seungcheol said, half-laughing.
Yeonseo puffed his cheeks and crossed his arms. “No!” he declared.
Jeonghan burst into laughter so hard his shoulders shook, while Seungcheol stared in mock disbelief. “What? Why not?”
“No,” Yeonseo said, stamping his little foot.
“Oh really?” Seungcheol teased, lowering himself to his level. “Then who’s allowed to kiss Papa, hmm?”
“Only me!” Yeonseo said proudly, planting a big kiss on Jeonghan’s cheek before crawling up beside him.
Jeonghan was laughing uncontrollably now, holding all three pups close. “Alright, alright, you win,,” he said, kissing his forehead in return.
Seungcheol sighed dramatically, pretending to sulk as he stood. “I’ve been replaced,” he muttered, though his grin betrayed him.
“Go cook, Dada,” Jeonghan teased, eyes twinkling.
Seungcheol leaned in one last time, kissed Jeonghan on the top of his head, this time without protest— and chuckled. “Yes, yes, my majesty and my little rulers,” he said fondly before turning toward the kitchen.
As he disappeared behind the doorway, Jeonghan looked down at the three pups in his arms. Their laughter filled the room, their tails wagging lazily against the sheets. He smiled, brushing his fingers through their soft hair.
This was everything. His heart, his world, his home.
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
The scent of warm porridge and fresh fruit filled the cottage, blending with the soft crackle of the hearth fire. Morning light streamed in through the small windows, painting the table in hues of gold. Seungcheol had just finished setting the last bowl down when Jeonghan came over, cradling Minjae in his arms while Yeonseo and Sejun toddled behind him, their tiny steps uneven but eager.
“Alright, my little wolves,” Jeonghan said fondly, “breakfast time.”
They sat the triplets down in their chairs— though sat might’ve been a generous word. Minjae squirmed immediately, Sejun clung to the edge, and Yeonseo, ever the calmest of the three, settled neatly and waited.
Those chairs were small, handmade things— carved from leftover oak wood by Seungcheol’s own hands. The edges were imperfect, slightly uneven, but lovingly smoothed with effort. Jeonghan had spent a whole afternoon painting them, adding tiny flowers and bunnies along the sides, the brush strokes a bit messy where his laughter had made his hand tremble. They weren’t perfect, but they were theirs. Every mark told a piece of their story— quiet afternoons, tired smiles, and the way love made even small things sacred.
Jeonghan lifted a spoonful of porridge, blowing gently before bringing it to Minjae’s mouth. “Here you go, baby,”
But before the spoon could reach him, Minjae decided he wanted to do it himself. His small hand shot forward, grabbing the spoon and splat.
A streak of porridge landed on the table, the edge of his chair, and a bit on Jeonghan’s sleeve.
“Ah—Minjae!” Jeonghan gasped, half laughing, half scolding as Minjae blinked up at him, eyes wide and completely unbothered.
“Uh-oh,” Seungcheol muttered, already reaching for a towel. But before he could even clean up, another sound filled the room — the unmistakable thud of a small bowl tipping over.
Sejun had knocked his plate of strawberries right onto the floor.
The strawberries rolled across the wooden boards like little red marbles, and Yeonseo, who had been quietly observing, suddenly burst into laughter, clapping his tiny hands in delight.
Seungcheol stopped mid-motion, staring at the chaos in front of him, then let out a groan— one that quickly melted into a helpless laugh. “Oh, great. Now we’re all having breakfast everywhere.”
Jeonghan tried to contain his giggles as he wiped Minjae’s face, his movements gentle but amused. “Looks like they inherited your appetite and my clumsiness.”
“That’s not a fair mix,” Seungcheol teased, crouching down to pick up the scattered fruit. “We’re doomed.”
Minjae, proud of his accidental masterpiece, started smacking his hands against the table, splattering what remained of his porridge. Sejun joined in, making little squeaky noises that were supposed to be laughter. Yeonseo followed, giggling so hard her tiny shoulders shook.
For a moment, Jeonghan and Seungcheol just looked at each other over the mess, bowls half-empty, hands sticky, floor covered in fruit— and laughed. It was chaos. Utter, joyful chaos.
Eventually, when the storm of giggles and spills subsided, Seungcheol wiped the last of the mess with a damp cloth, sighing dramatically. “Breakfast with three wolves. Who needs adventure when you have this?”
Jeonghan chuckled softly, leaning against the table. “You love it.”
“I do,” Seungcheol admitted, his tone warm. He placed the cloth aside, brushing his fingers along Jeonghan’s arm as he leaned closer. “Still…” His voice dropped, teasingly low. “We’ll need to finish what we started this morning… during nap time?”
Jeonghan froze for a second, the words catching him off guard. He turned to Seungcheol, cheeks blooming pink. “Cheol—”
“What?” Seungcheol asked, all feigned innocence, though that little smirk on his lips betrayed him. “Can’t a husband look forward to some quiet time with his bun?”
Jeonghan covered his face with his hand, trying not to laugh, his voice muffled. “You’re impossible.”
Seungcheol leaned closer, whispering near his ear, “So that’s a yes?”
Jeonghan peeked through his fingers, shaking his head with a shy grin. “You’re so naughty.”
“Only for you,” Seungcheol said, and before Jeonghan could protest, he pressed a quick kiss to his temple.
Jeonghan swatted at his arm, though the smile on his face made it clear he wasn’t really mad. “You should focus on cleaning before someone throws their bowl next.”
“I’m working on it,” Seungcheol said, though his eyes lingered on Jeonghan a little longer than they should have.
The pups had started to calm down again, their bellies full and energy beginning to wane. Sejun yawned, rubbing his eyes, Yeonseo leaned against the table, while Minjae blinked in slow, drowsy blinks.
Jeonghan looked at the three tiny lives they created together, and his heart swelled. It wasn’t always easy. Some mornings were sleepless, some nights were noisy, but moments like this made every bit of exhaustion worth it.
He turned his gaze back to Seungcheol, who was watching the kids with that soft, almost reverent look — the one he got whenever he remembered that this was real, that they were his. Their little family.
The laughter, the mess, the warmth— all of it.
And as Jeonghan reached over to help him wipe the table, their hands brushed, fingers intertwining naturally, as if they’d been made to fit that way.
“Nap time, huh?” Jeonghan murmured under his breath, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
Seungcheol smiled, voice low and teasing. “Nap time.”
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
The morning had faded into a soft, golden noon, sunlight streaming lazily through the windows. The smell of cooked oats and warm milk still lingered faintly in the air. Seungcheol stood by the counter, rolling up his sleeves as he cleaned up the kitchen, humming under his breath.
It was quiet work— the clinking of ceramic bowls, the steady sound of water running from the faucet, the rhythmic swish of a cloth wiping over the wooden table. But beyond that calm was the background music of their home: soft laughter, tiny feet shuffling, and Jeonghan’s melodic voice telling yet another story from the couch.
He glanced over his shoulder for a moment. There they were— his whole world.
Jeonghan sat in the middle of the couch, his hair slightly mussed from the morning’s chaos, dressed in one of Seungcheol’s old sweaters that stretched over his shoulders. Their pups were scattered around him like little stars in orbit— Yeonseo sprawled against his thigh, Sejun sitting up with wide, curious eyes, and Minjae half-climbing onto Jeonghan’s lap, giggling uncontrollably.
“…and then the brave little bunny told the big scary wolf, ‘I’m not afraid of you anymore!’” Jeonghan said dramatically, holding up his hand like a paw.
Minjae squealed with delight, while Sejun clapped his hands, and Yeonseo tried to mimic the growl sound.
Seungcheol chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as he continued to clean the dishes. He could hear Jeonghan tickling them next, his voice turning breathless with laughter.
“You can’t get me, bug! No, no, no—oh, you got me!” Jeonghan cried, pretending to fall back as the triplets attacked him with small hands and giggles.
By the time Seungcheol finished drying the last dish, his chest felt so full it almost ached. He loved moments like this— the sound of laughter echoing through the house, the warmth that came from knowing this was his family, his home.
He turned toward them, leaning against the counter, simply watching for a moment.
Jeonghan caught him looking and grinned. “C’mon,” he said softly, eyes flickering toward their pups, “say thank you to Dada. He cooked breakfast for you today.”
Three pairs of bright, sleepy eyes turned toward Seungcheol.
Minjae was the first to toddle over, his tiny steps wobbly but determined. Yeonseo followed, a little slower but full of confidence, and Sejun trailed behind, clinging to his blanket.
“Dada!” Minjae squeaked, holding up his arms.
Seungcheol bent down, laughter spilling from him as he scooped Minjae up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re welcome,”
Yeonseo hugged his leg next, and Sejun buried his face into Seungcheol’s knee. The sight nearly undid him— it was small, ordinary, but it was everything.
“Thank you, Dada,” Jeonghan prompted again, smiling warmly.
“Tank you!” Sejun echoed proudly, his words slightly slurred.
Seungcheol’s heart melted entirely.
He gathered them all in his arms, crouched in the middle of the floor, and looked up at Jeonghan. “You trained them too well,” he teased.
Jeonghan laughed, “Of course. Someone has to teach them manners.”
After that, they all ended up tangled together on the couch again. Seungcheol sat on one end, Jeonghan leaned against his shoulder, and the pups clung to every bit of space left between them. Yeonseo fiddled with Seungcheol’s buttons while Sejun played with Jeonghan’s fingers, and Minjae, ever the clingiest, tried to squeeze himself between them both.
The house buzzed with soft noise— tiny giggles, mumbled baby words, the faint crackle from the fireplace Seungcheol had lit earlier. Jeonghan brushed his fingers through Minjae’s hair, humming a soft tune.
As the minutes passed, the pups’ energy slowly waned. Their eyelids drooped, their movements grew sluggish.
Jeonghan began singing a lullaby, his voice quiet but clear, filling the room like warm honey. The same lullaby he used to hum on the nights when Seungcheol couldn’t sleep, the one that calmed the pups as newborns.
Yeonseo was the first to surrender, his small hand clutching Seungcheol’s shirt even as he drifted off. Then Sejun’s head lolled against Jeonghan’s arm. Minjae resisted the longest, his sleepy giggles fading until he finally nestled into Jeonghan’s chest, letting out one last tiny sigh.
Jeonghan smiled, brushing his lips against the top of Minjae’s head. “Finally asleep,” he whispered.
Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice low. “You have magic in your voice, you know that?”
Jeonghan chuckled softly, eyes fluttering shut. “I just think they love hearing me talk.”
“I do too,” Seungcheol said quietly.
Jeonghan opened his eyes again, meeting Seungcheol’s gaze. The firelight flickered softly across his face, warm and golden.
For a long moment, they didn’t speak. They just sat there— Jeonghan’s head against his shoulder, their pups curled between them, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing together.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of another quiet day. But this— this was everything Seungcheol had ever wanted
₊˚⊹ ᰔ
The pups were completely out, small heads resting against their parents’ shoulders, their breaths deep and even. Jeonghan carried Minjae first, his cheek resting lightly against the little one’s hair. He swayed a little as he walked— an old habit, a rhythm he’d never lost since their newborn days. Seungcheol followed right behind him, holding Yeonseo and Sejun in his arms, careful not to let their tiny legs bump into anything.
Their room was small but warm, filled with soft blankets and toys scattered across the floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender— Jeonghan had insisted on that scent because it helped them sleep better. They laid the pups down one by one, adjusting each blanket like they were tucking in the stars themselves. Jeonghan brushed Minjae’s hair from his forehead, placing a soft kiss there, while Seungcheol quietly set Sejun’s stuffed bunny beside him.
For a few seconds, they just stood there, side by side, watching. Three tiny chests rose and fell in perfect harmony. The world outside seemed to hush for them.
Jeonghan let out a small sigh, his shoulders relaxing. “They’re growing too fast,” he whispered, barely above a breath.
Seungcheol nodded, slipping a hand onto his lower back. “They are,” he murmured. “Feels like yesterday they could all fit in my arms.”
Jeonghan smiled faintly, his voice laced with warmth. “You still try to carry all three,”
“That’s because I can,” Seungcheol whispered back, grinning.
He gently reached out to close the door once they stepped out, the soft click echoing through the quiet hall. The house felt suddenly still— no giggles, no footsteps, no playful chaos. Just peace.
Jeonghan leaned against the wall, exhaling softly, a hand pressed over his chest. “Finally quiet.”
A low chuckle rumbled from behind him. “Mm,” Seungcheol hummed in agreement, stepping closer until his breath tickled the back of Jeonghan’s neck.
Before Jeonghan could turn around, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him in until his back was pressed against Seungcheol’s chest.
“Now,” Seungcheol murmured against his ear, voice low and teasing, “where were we before they woke up?”
Jeonghan’s breath hitched, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “You’re naughty,” he whispered, though there was laughter in his tone.
“Oh yeah?,” Seungcheol said, lips grazing his temple.
Jeonghan bit back a smile, leaning into him. “You’re supposed to rest while they nap.”
“I can rest later,” Seungcheol said, his voice dipping into that soft drawl that made Jeonghan’s knees weaken. “Right now, I want my reward for surviving breakfast.”
Jeonghan laughed quietly. “You mean surviving our kids’ breakfast disaster?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.
“Exactly.” Seungcheol grinned, his dimples deepening. There was a glint in his eyes, a mix of exhaustion and fondness, like he still couldn’t believe this was his life— Jeonghan in his arms, sunlight spilling through the window, and the sound of sleepy pups snoring faintly down the hall.
Jeonghan’s lashes fluttered as he looked up at him. Seungcheol could see every detail— the faint pink on his cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly when he breathed, the faint mark of exhaustion under his eyes that somehow only made him look softer.
Seungcheol’s thumb brushed along his jaw, tracing the curve of it like he was memorizing him all over again. He could feel the warmth of his skin, the slight tremble of laughter still caught in his throat.
A quiet heartbeat passed before Seungcheol whispered, low and teasing, “So… shall we continue?”
Jeonghan blinked, trying to fight a smile, his voice soft as silk. “Okay,.”
“Ah, there you are,” Seungcheol smiled with a playful murmur, his breath tickling Jeonghan’s ear.
Jeonghan’s laughter melted into something quieter, more tender. His hand found the collar of Seungcheol’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as he whispered, “You’re lucky they sleep long naps.”
Seungcheol smiled against his temple. “Lucky me,” he breathed, his voice low, rough with affection.
The laughter between them faded into the hush of the quiet house. Outside, the trees swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze.
Inside, the air was soft, heavy with warmth and something almost sacred— Jeonghan in his arms,, the faint sound of their pups breathing softly in the next room—was everything he’d ever dreamed of.