#blind deceit au
Text
Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 10
series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.
series masterlist | previous chapter
Part Ten: a relic from the past, confession, and dark magic.
series rating: 16+
series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.
series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)
summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.
chapter details beneath the cut ->
wc: 15.3k
extra chapter warnings: panic attack, a non-consensual kiss, non-consensual drug use (but magical? idk?).
chapter summary:
“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.
Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.
“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”
a/n: guess who’s back :3 sorry this took me a million years to write, hopefully i can be a bit more consistent in the next coming months. hope you enjoy, and don’t be shy to let me know what you think! love y’all, thanks to everyone who has not abandoned this story after this massive hiatus LMAO <3
Seonghwa has never believed anger to suit him.
While Woo wears his anger like a loaded cannon, and San - like most other things - buries it until it inevitably rises to the surface, Seonghwa has tried to avoid fury when he can.
After all, anger is often the replacement of a different emotion. It comes easier than understanding, quicker than resolution. It’s the nasty, winding short-cut off the high road, and Seonghwa has learned that the high road is almost always the safer path in the long term.
Anger is ugly. It’s nonsensical and he doesn’t like how it looks on him. It’s why he prefers the cold shoulder to blind rage, sorting out his feelings on his own rather than lashing out on others. It’s the kind thing to do. The empathetic thing to do.
It’s never been overly difficult for him to settle this rage until now.
It festers in his mind every morning, as well as in the night before he falls asleep. Everytime he accidentally catches your eye over breakfast, letting his gaze drift away in hopes that you will think that his eyes were trailing by rather than staring.
He is so unbelievably angry with you, and he hates it.
From the moment the truth was revealed in the forest, it’s as if someone wrapped a hand around his lungs and began to squeeze, then never let go. A hot, burning fire in his chest that’s smoke rises up his throat, choking him with rage. It stings his eyes, fogs his senses. It feels unbeatable, indestructible. Blinding.
He knows that anger is just an emotion. A bad one, one that he’s had to expel from others countless times before. From San, after The Desert Lotus. It’s just another entity, another plague on the body. Settle down, feel it, think better of it, then let it be gone.
And yet now that feels an impossible task. Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time he was so angry. Perhaps it was the night in the kitchen with his mother, learning of the heights of human greed, the one he relives every time he uses his gift to expel the anger from someone else.
He supposes this memory may replace that one.
When he found out the truth about you it was like the last few weeks came crashing down around him. The closeness, the trust and understanding, the mutual respect and admiration.
All lies. All of it. And he feels like such a fucking idiot.
There was no trust, and by the gods, there was certainly no respect. He was a mere pawn in your game, a part of the plan, and all he can do is beat himself up about being too naive to not see it earlier. Woo has always harped on him for being too nice to people, or as the elemental would put it, “not behaving like an actual person, but more like a rock on a walkway that people like to kick around”. Seonghwa thought that Woo was just being grouchy, the pessimist he always is. But hell, maybe he was right.
After all, Seonghwa should have seen it coming. There was so much he could have done. If he had questioned why a beautiful stranger would have so much immediate interest in him in the first place, or why you constantly asked him questions while dismissing any deeper ones about yourself. If he wasn’t so passive about the parasitic emotions practically radiating off of you. If he looked past the ideal he so desperately wanted and dared to dig up the reality of what was underneath.
He’s not an idiot. The reality is that for you, it was never about him. It was about getting to Kuroku. For him it was about the journey, but for you it was always in the name of the destination.
And well, he certainly did his part in getting you there. He shared his gift with you as a token of trust, he took your pain away and made it his own, he vouched for you against Woo’s constant doubt.
All for a girl who’s name he didn’t even know.
The thought makes more anger - ugly, volatile, and oh-so-unflattering - surge within his chest, and he throws a rock into the lake before him. It doesn’t skip as he intended, and instead sinks with a loud plunk.
Seonghwa frowns. He grabs another rock to throw.
After being met with an even louder plunk, he groans, before creeping further up onto the shoreline to grab a flatter rock. His toes dip in the water, which feels colder than yesterday now that he’s no longer fueled by sheer terror and adrenaline.
The coolness brings him back to Maralya, when he and Yunho would sit on the fishing dock. Feet in the water, even though Seonghwa was older, Yunho was the one who had taught him to skip rocks. His half-brother always had a knack for things like that, or well, for everything it seemed. From medical skills, to scaling buildings, to setting a fishing line; Yunho could master whatever he picked up. He must have inherited it from his father, a man Seonghwa doesn’t really remember, as he died when they were young.
Seonghwa doesn’t remember his own father either, as he disappeared on an escapade to The Mainland directly after he was born. His mother told him that his ship was lost at sea, but Seonghwa is pretty sure he just left and never came back.
It doesn’t really matter, he’s never had much of a desire to know the man. After all, the only thing Seonghwa inherited from him was his foolishness. And maybe his nose.
Seonghwa sighs. Picking up another rock, this one flat and polished, he recalls the steps in his mind. Yunho's voice runs through his head as he goes through the form, before bringing his hand back and letting it fly.
Plunk.
He stares at the ripples surrounding the sinking stone for a moment, before sitting down. He must have forgotten a step. It was a long time ago.
He lays back so that his head presses into the sand, the little grains cold and damp against his scalp. It’s familiar. It’s a little like the shore at home, although the sand isn’t as white, and the water’s colder, nor as blue. There’s no sound of hustle and bustle from back in the village, or his mother yelling at him to take a dip in the ocean before coming back inside because he’s covered in sand and he can’t track that into the house.
So maybe it’s not so similar, but he will pretend.
Seonghwa sighs, grabbing a handful of sand, letting it fall between his fingers. It’s times like these, ones where he’s dejected, broken-down, and lonely, that he wants nothing more than to go home. Only then does he remember that there’s no home for him to return to.
He sighs, his anger drifting to sadness, and yet he doesn’t mind. He believes that at the very least, it suits him better.
Footsteps approach from far off behind him, and he knows that it’s you. Woo walks faster, heavier footed, and he likely wouldn’t have heard San until he was closer. Besides, you’ve been walking with a slight limp since the fall, and he can hear it in the thump of every second step.
A part of him wants to ask what happened, what hurts. If you’re okay.
The angry part of him won’t let the other speak.
He hears your steps stutter, coming to a sudden halt from what he assumes is about a dozen feet off. Silence follows, and he wonders what you’re thinking. If you’re nervous to approach him, taking the time to contemplate your words before you say them.
Eventually, you do come closer. “San and Woo want to head towards Bebbanburg,” you call out from behind him. “I said that I’d come get you.”
“Thanks,” Seonghwa says flatly, making no motion to move. He will, of course, but not until you head back to camp. He’d like to avoid the awkwardness of walking in a strained silence, pretending not to notice as you try to meet his eye.
Although when he doesn’t hear you leave, it seems as if he doesn’t have much of a choice.
Sighing, he pushes himself up into a seated position. Glancing back at you, he has to place a hand over his forehead to block out the rising sun blinding his vision.
You stand with your arms wrapped around yourself, watching him with a dampened expression. Your tunic billows in the wind, torn around the waist and covered in dirt and dust. Chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers tap along your arm, you appear on edge. As if you wish to say something.
Seonghwa hates the way he wishes to know what it is. He hates how he wants to smooth your hair that is violently blown by the wind and wipe away the smudge of mud that has hardened against your cheek.
He hates how even now, after everything, he yearns for you.
Perhaps this is how it always would have ended, anyway. Having grown more attached then he ever should, not ready to lose what he knew was never his.
“Seonghwa,” you say finally, although it’s a little strained. Rigid. “About yesterday, by the fire.”
Ah yes, that. You and San hadn’t noticed him at the time, but when neither he or Woo came back to the fire, the two of you went out looking for them. It only took a moment, finding them sitting against the caves outer wall. Quiet and avoidant. Woo had fallen asleep, but Seonghwa had met your gaze. He held it for only a moment, watching your own eyes widen as you realized he’d seen the whole thing. He looked away when your lips parted to speak.
“With San. I hadn’t expected it to happen,” you say, calling loudly over the wind, and yet somehow your voice still seems quiet. Trapped and tight. “I… I don’t regret it. But after everything, it feels unfair to you-”
“I don’t care about you and San,” Seonghwa butts in. Not aggressively, or overly angry, merely factual. After all, that’s not what he’s angry about. He doesn’t care about you and San. That’s your business.
He wants San to be happy. Whatever it takes, the swordsman deserves a bit of peace.
Besides, now that he will not, perhaps San will wipe the mud from your cheek.
“Oh,” you say, followed by a pause. “You just seem upset.”
“I’m not angry about that,” Seonghwa replies, lips pursing together. He swallows hard. “Just about everything you did before it.”
Your expression falls. Mouth dropping open into a small part, your eyes fill with a sudden sense of shame and hurt. Your hands grip your elbows, hugging yourself tighter, even if only slightly.
Your expression settles like stone in his gut, and he knows that what he said has made you hurt. He has made you feel that same pain that tightens in his chest and floods up his throat.
Seonghwa wishes he hadn’t said that.
No matter his anger, no matter the pain, Seonghwa has never wished to pass an entity on to another.
“I’ll meet you back at the cave in a moment,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want to force his gaze from yours while at the same time feeling a pull towards you like a beacon, begging him to take it away. Take it all away. All the horrible entities that radiate from you like a plague, a blackened sickness.
Turning back towards the lake, he waits. When he hears the sound of your footsteps - fading away, not growing louder - he lets out a sigh of relief.
He doesn’t like what this has made him into. The anger that has filled him, strangles him, stops him from drifting towards you like a moth to a flame. Sure to be burned, but the glow will be glorious.
No, anger doesn’t suit him. And yet he wears it, draping over him, akin to a stranger’s jacket.
If there is any luck to be found following your fall from the cliff, it’s in that at least you’ve found yourselves closer to Bebbanburg.
The journey to the small kingdom only took a few hours, the fact that you had nothing to carry but the clothes on your back having sped up the trek. It was spent in silence.
You know there’s certain to be some of the black-clad men poking around in such a populous city, so upon reaching the kingdom, the first order of business was to purchase you a cloak, as Mingi’s own had remained within a satchel on the horse’s back.
It weighs down on your shoulders, knowing that it’s gone, the final piece of him you had left. You’ve tried to view it as for the better, as the cloak of a Libaiyan Royal Guard could have attracted the attention of the wrong pair of eyes.
Even so, it hurts.
The cloak you wear now isn’t nearly as nice, a tattered brown fabric that’s itchy in the spots where it touches your bare skin, but it only cost a few bronze pieces. Considering that all the group of you have to your name is the pouch of coins attached to San’s waste, you have to know where to ration your spendings.
This is only on the necessities. San is trying to locate a cheap blacksmith to fashion him a new sword. Meanwhile, Woo and Seonghwa are searching if there’s anywhere for your group to stay that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Bebbanburg is an expensive kingdom, and so long as you find a place with a roof and walls that doesn’t blow through all of your savings, you’ll consider yourselves lucky.
With all the men on their own errands and a new cloak purchased, you’ve had about an hour to kill before now, as you currently make your way to meet them back at the city center. You’ve spent it wandering, peering into shop windows but never making your way inside. You don’t have the money to spend, nor do you want the undivided attention of a shop-keeper when you’re trying to lay low.
You’ve passed a few of your wanted posters strown up about the town, plastered to bulletin boards, poles, and shop windows alike. On top of being newly adorned with a far more accurate portrait of yourself, they’ve also added the detail of your recent scars. Printed along the bottom is the following: “Last spotted travelling with three young men. Potentially dangerous. Approach with caution.”
As an incentive due to what you assume is the elevated danger risk, they’ve increased the reward for your capture or demise to 300,000 gold pieces.
Apparently, someone at the tavern ratted the group of you out. Likely Yeosang and his band of not-so-merry men, or perhaps the poor shop-keeper desperate for a bribe.
Either way, someone is on your tail. Considering the new addition to the posters, that someone is in this city.
You haven’t seen them yet, but you know that it’s the black-clad men. They have to be lurking around here somewhere, they’re just being quiet about it.
You swallow hard, pulling the hood of your cloak further down.
Fortunately, the street’s are bustling with people. Bebbanburg, while not quite as big as the four major kingdoms, is still a hub for tourism. With money to spend, the streets are clean, the buildings well-kept. Despite being a narrow path in the merchant’s district in town, the air smells fresh.
It doesn’t feel quite right, in your opinion. Between the few towns you’ve visited these past few weeks, there was a certain scent to the air that felt more…natural. A strange concoction of smells as different taverns and homes didn’t agree on a pre-set menu for the night, dirt and pebbles aligning the trails as hunters dragged home their latest catch, or the muddy hoof-prints left by horses that stick to the bottoms of your shoes.
Bebbanburg feels too polished. The sort of polished that takes an effort, that works extra hard to rid itself of anything it deems unclean.
Trying not to obsess too much over the fact, you do your best to retrace your steps in order to return to the city center, taking a turn down another street. A slight limp to your step, ankle still not having fully recovered from your fall off the cliff, you count the shop doors that you pass along the alley’s stone wall. You kept count on your way here in order to know which alley to take back.
Counting down the doors, you pass by a butcher’s shop, cafe, and Zarian boutique for rare gems, all of which you’d passed along the way here. Gaze fluttering passively over the alley next to the boutique, you nearly miss the pair of eyes that lock on your own. Cat-like gaze fixated on yours, the bottom half of the figure's face is covered by a black cloth, their head shrouded in a dark cloak.
You pause. Hesitant, you retrace your last few steps, peering back down the alley.
The figure’s cloak follows behind them as they disappear behind a winding turn.
Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat as an unsettled chill creeps down your spine, you keep moving along your original route. It was just a stranger. You’re paranoid, on edge, searching to find shadows and enemies in places in which they are not there.
Nevermind how something about the stranger's gaze felt oddly…familiar. Although you cannot place from where.
You continue along your original path, turning down the alley that will take you back to the city center. Glancing over your shoulder, you see nobody behind you, just the bustle of people continuing their way down the mainstreet. You mentally scold yourself. You’re being ridiculous, and casting lingering glances as you loiter in one place for too long is only going to attract attention.
When you turn forward, you catch a glimpse of movement, as something disappears behind a wall up ahead of you. “Shit,” you think to yourself, rushing forward as you place your back against the stone wall, peeking an eye out to see if you can spot them.
All you can manage is the tail end of the dark cloak disappearing down another alleyway. You wait a moment, as if contemplating how daring - or foolish - you’re willing to be, before heading after them.
“This is a bad idea,” you whisper to yourself, hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at your waist as you follow after the mysterious figure. However, even if unwise, you’d rather know your enemy and have them right in front of you compared to being stalked like prey. You’ll get slain in a fair fight any day before getting your throat slit from behind.
It’s a morbid thought, something San would likely say during combat practice, and you wonder if you’ve been spending too much time with these men.
Following the stranger, you keep quiet on your feet. Pulling the sword out from its sheath, you tread carefully, slowing your pace as you near the corner that the cloak had disappeared behind. Holding the sword firm in your grasp, you take a deep and shaky breath, before jumping to face your attacker.
Only to find there is nobody there, just another barren alleyway. Another alleyway that leads to nothing but a dead end, a stone wall looming tall before you.
You frown, confused at how this is possible. Your gaze darts around the narrow alleyway, searching for a cloaked figure, but it remains entirely empty.
Letting out a troubled sigh, you resheath your sword and turn back around.
Only to be met face first with the masked stranger.
Your breath dies in your throat, and you instinctively pull an arm back, aiming to strike them. However, as you swing forward, they narrowly dodge your strike, managing to grab your wrist instead. They twist it, not so hard as to dislodge anything, but enough that it disarms you. Then, using their free hand to push you backwards, they press you up against the stone wall. Elbow against your chest and hand gripping your upper arm, their spare hand grips tightly around your other wrist, rending you immobile.
Your chest heaves, not from tiredness but scheer panic. They’ve got you. Your gaze flickers up, to scan the face of your assailant. The person that will turn you in to the black-clad men, or is perhaps one themself.
The strangers' dark eyes meet yours from beneath their thick cloak, black orbs dancing as they move to scan over your face. Cat-like in their shape, with thick eye-lashes and brows.
Then the stranger laughs.
It’s not a menacing laugh, nor one you would expect from someone who is about to kill you. Instead it’s joyous, almost disbelieving.
“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.
Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.
“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”
The stranger’s eyebrows furrow together into a look of confusion, before lighting up in realization. “Oh!” They say, before doing the last thing you would have ever expected of removing their hands from you entirely. “Of course!”
The stranger pulls off the hood of their cloak, revealing a head of long, thick red hair. They follow the removal of their hood by doing the same with their mask, and with it, you are hit with a wave of not only relief, but scheer and unadulterated joy.
“Yeji!” You nearly shout, pulling your back from the wall and wrapping your arms around your old laundress.
She chuckles, and then you are both laughing. In happiness, in relief, in sheer and utter disbelief. You pull away, placing both of your hands along her jaw to cup her face. You scan every detail, to ensure that she is real and actually standing before you, not some sort of trick or illusion.
But is her, just as you had seen her last at the castle. Maybe not exactly the same, wearing far different clothes than the modest beige dress she had adorned as your laundress, hair worn loosely, and eyes holding more of an edge than they ever had before.
Still, it is Yeji.
Yeji with the shimmering grin and freckle on her nose. Yeji who you know, and knows you in return. Yeji from your castle. Your home.
Yeji, a relic from the past that has not been destroyed.
“You nearly gave me a heart attack, following me around like that,” you laugh, taking one of your hands and giving her a slap on the shoulder, playful and not hard enough to actually hurt.
“Sorry,” she grins. “I didn’t want to attract any attention on the street. Figured it would be safer to lure you somewhere quiet, and you know, I also wanted to make sure it was actually you first.”
She then scoffs, returning the slap onto your own shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to pull out a sword on me! Where did you even get one of those?”
You consider answering, but a heavy cloud of unanswered questions hangs over the two of you, its presence loud and rattling like thunder. The jovial nature to your reunion cannot last long, not when there’s so much at stake, not when your world has crumbled to ash since you last spoke.
“What are you doing in Bebbanburg?” You ask, before realizing there’s a far more pressing question at hand. “How did you get out of the castle?”
Yeji smiles, placing her hand over one of your own along her cheek. “After what happened with the king in the ball-room, it was chaos,” she explains. “The Dark Army were rounding up and capturing all those who worked in the castle and may have been close to you.”
Your heart seizes at the statement, and your voice is quiet as you speak again. “Did they hurt them?”
“I don’t know,” Yeji replies, tone equally as somber. “A group of us laundresses escaped together using the underground tunnel system. I didn’t see what happened to those they had rounded up, but…”
She swallows hard, eyes pitiful as they meet your own. “But with how The Dark Army were talking, and the screams that followed behind us…I don’t think it would have ended well for them, Princess.”
Your throat swells at her admission, and it becomes more difficult to breathe as your eyes fill with the remnants of tears. Your mind is flooded with the unwelcome image of all of your old servants - your friends, as they had far surpassed their job description - tortured to try and probe them for information regarding you.
You wipe at your eyes with your hands, stuffing down the rising guilt and pain, placing a lid on these horrible thoughts. You will mourn later, when you have the time to properly grieve and honour all that they have lost because of you. For now, you must keep moving, deal with what is right in front of you.
“You keep calling them The Dark Army,” you begin, changing the subject. “Is that a made up title, or something they’ve defined themselves as? Do we know who they are?”
Yeji shakes her head. “Nobody knows who they are, it’s just what we’ve been calling them because of their armour. Not to mention the fact that they are about the sourest men I’ve ever met.”
“You’ve spoken to them?” You ask, scolding yourself for the fear that seizes in your chest at the thought of it. Of them being anywhere near her, or anyone you care about, for that matter.
She nods. “They’re poking around the city. Trying to keep a low profile, because Bebbanburg doesn’t like any semblance of war or conflict contaminating their streets, but they’re here. We try to keep to ourselves by not causing any trouble or disturbances and they mostly leave us alone.”
Your head buzzes at the confirmation that they are here, within the walls and perhaps a mere alley-way over, which is far, far too close.
“You keep saying we,” you note. “There’s more of you?”
Yeji nods, a soft smile grazing her lips. “Lot’s of us. We’ve set up a refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Bebbanburg doesn’t want us here, because of course they don’t, but at least it’s safe. Not much crime or Anti-Libaiyan extremists in the city, so even if it’s not much, it’s all that we can really ask for.”
If she had told you this a couple weeks ago, you’d have been startled to know that there were Anti-Libaiyan extremists at all. However, having been given insight into the monstrosities your father was capable of, this no longer comes as a surprise, but rather expected.
“Can you take me to them?” You ask, and Yeji nods.
“Of course,” she says, grabbing your hand as she begins to walk back up the alley-way. “Although, I’d recommend keeping a low-profile, seeing that you're alive might cause a little too much excitement. Draw attention.”
You nod in agreement, following behind her through the winding alley-ways. It’s not until you’re almost back on the main city street that you remember why exactly you were trekking through the alleyways in the first place.
“Wait,” you say, stopping. Yeji turns to face you, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “There’s some people I need you to meet first.”
“Where have you been?” Woo asks as you approach. The three men have gathered around the fountain within the center of the city square, water spouting from the tall and golden statue into a small pond embedded with various coloured jewels along its rim. The falling water casts a veil of mist around them, as well as the various other groups gathered beside it. Many of them are tourists from different kingdoms, which you can recognize by the various types of clothing they wear, such as the vibrant coloured patchwork of the group next to you that is distinctly Zarian. It seems a prime spot to talk, the definition of hiding in plain sight.
“You were supposed to meet us here a half-hour ago,” Woo says with a scowl, before he notices Yeji beside you. His gaze flickers up and down, as if assessing her potential danger. “Who is this?”
You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, before motioning to her. “You guys, this is Yeji.”
She gives them a smile to which none of the men return, and for a moment you stand in silence.
“We’ve heard that one before,” Woo says.
Your face warms with embarrassment, and you clear your throat before beginning to explain. “This is the real Yeji, the girl whose name I used. She was one of my laundresses back at the castle, as well as a close friend.”
Another moment of silence follows, as none of the men appear to know what to say, or how to approach the appearance of a stranger.
Eventually, Seonghwa speaks, tone polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, to which Yeji returns the sentiment. Although he isn’t looking at you to see it, you cast Seonghwa a grateful smile all the same.
“This is Seonghwa, San, and Woo,” you say, pointing to each of them in turn. “They have been helping me get to Kuroku.”
“Thank you for aiding Her Highness,” Yeji says, placing a hand on her chest while delivering a curtsy. A sign of respect. Although…exceedingly formal respect.
San’s lips pull together into a stifled smile, and Woo raises an eyebrow.
“You, um, don’t have to do that,” you say, placing a hand on Yeji’s shoulder and gently tugging her upwards. “It’s not really like that.”
“Oh,” she says, straightening herself as her eyebrows raise in surprise. There’s a silence that follows, as well as a sense of discomfort that hangs in the air, as Yeji chews nervously on her lower lip.
And for all the love that you have for her, you know exactly what she’s thinking, as it’s been drilled into her since the moment she began to work at the castle: The demands of Libaiyan proprietary.
She ponders that if the relationship with this group of men escorting you is not formal, then what is it, and how far have you stretched the rules of etiquette that bind you?
You wouldn’t even know how to answer that question even if she asked.
Instead of dwelling on the subject and the lingering discomfort, you turn to Woo and Seonghwa. “Did the two of you find a place for us to stay the night?”
Woo scoffs in annoyance while Seonghwa shakes his head, defeated.
“Not anywhere reasonable,” Seonghwa says. “There’s a few places we can go if nightfall comes, but we honestly might be better off sleeping in the woods. It should be a clear night, and at least it won’t cost us an arm and a leg.”
You frown, not fond of the idea of spending yet another night on the ground, especially without a tarp or blanket to shield you from the elements.
Fortunately, Yeji pipes up from beside you. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve formed a refuge on the outskirts of the city. I believe we have an extra tent to spare.”
Now this finally causes the men’s expression to shift, the discomfort and wariness on each of their faces replaced with a glimpse of relief.
“Alright,” San says, gaze shifting over to you even as he speaks to Yeji, and his expression is difficult to read. He appears almost bemused. “Lead the way.”
The refuge, while about as bleak as you expected it to be, fills you with an undeniable sense of glee. Mostly due to how big it is, meaning that even if the mass size of the refuge indicates that there have been hundreds driven from the Libaiyan kingdom, there are also far more people who survived and escaped the castle than you’d originally thought.
Gathered just outside of Bebbanburg’s walls, dozens of the beige and tattered fabric tents are clumped together, creating a sort of maze as people make their way between the narrow passages. Head shrouded beneath your hood, the five of you pass through the different camps, ducking beneath laundry lines hanging between tent poles and maneuvering through the small groups gathered around make-shift fire pits as they roast small rodents and birds for dinner.
You watch their faces, searching amidst them for anger, for loss and resentment. While some are quiet, dark circles of tiredness hanging beneath their eyes, others are not so beaten down. There is the sound of laughter in the air, and a group of children nearly bump into you as they recklessly chase each other through the labyrinth of tents.
You smile. All is not lost.
You’d been so focused on your own survival, of getting to Kuroku alive and fighting to give your kingdom a chance, that you hadn’t realized the fear you had of there being no kingdom to fight for. Of not only the castle being besieged, but the entire kingdom being left in ashes.
Yet, even if this is so, there are still Libaiyans left. There is still a nation, full of life, that will not let themselves be stripped of their pride so easily.
“This way,” Yeji says softly, trying not to draw too much attention to your party. A group of girls wave to her as you pass by, and you recognize some of them as your kitchen maids, although you were never close enough to have learned their names.
The women are seated around a small fire. With the setting sun, they gather closed together, a blanket stretched over them. Or, upon closer look, a Libaiyan flag, its golden sun bright against its stark white background.
There is a man playing the lute sitting beside them. He has light eyes and a soft voice, fingers dancing as he strums the small wooden instrument in tune with his voice.
The man sings a Libaiyan folk song, one about a man arriving home to a small Libaiyan village after fighting many long years at war. The song doesn’t make clear which war exactly, centuries old and deriving from a time of high conflict, but it doesn’t really matter.
After all, the song is less about the war, and more about coming home. The ghosts of his fallen comrades following him, cane in hand to support his leg that will never heal, and his love having left the village to marry another man from the kingdom city.
The song is normally sung in a minor chord. It’s sad and melancholic, painting a tale of loss and grief.
However, the man currently singing has changed its tune to a major chord.
A message of triumph. Of defiance. Of the man’s survival, even after all else is lost and destroyed.
A song of hope.
You want to join them. To listen to this man sing your nation's song, to let his tune of triumph fill not only the air, but your entire body. Your heart, even your soul. Reignite the reason you started this journey, why you couldn’t give up.
These people need you. Your people need you.
Yeji wraps her arm around your wrist, giving you a gentle tug forward as you linger near the fire for a little too long.
“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “You’ll be able to hear his voice late into the night, even from your tent.”
You aren’t sure how to respond, how to depict your gratitude for all of this. For her taking you in and letting you hear these songs that you weren’t so sure you’d ever hear again, for being alive and granting you hope.
All you can do is reach to give her hand a soft squeeze, and hope she understands.
Yeji stops before a small tent, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two men, let alone three. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it will do.”
“It’ll do,” Seonghwa answers with a smile.
“Especially considering we have no luggage,” Woo grumbles.
If Yeji hears the dissatisfaction in his voice, she doesn’t show it. “My own tent is just over there,” she says, pointing to what is only a few tents over. It’s a bit larger than the one before you, although not by much. She turns to you. “You can stay with me.”
You’re grateful for the sentiment, considering none of the men - except maybe San - would enjoy being forced to share such close quarters with you.
“There’s a table inside, if you’d all like to sit and regroup. I can catch you up on all that has happened since the siege,” Yeji says.
Her gaze flickers over to the three men, and it is hesitant. Curious, as it returns to you. “And you can do the same.”
“Scorpion beasts, a mimic, and a dragon-basilisk hybrid all in just a few weeks?” Yeji gapes, hands clutching tight around her mug of hot tea, as if she needs something to hold onto. “And you’re alive?”
“I take it your journey here wasn’t so exciting?” San asks, sipping his own mug. He seems in good spirits today, as he willingly engages in conversation with Yeji. Especially compared to Seonghwa - who is more hesitant, likely less willing to jump the gun on trusting a new stranger - and Woo, who sits with his eyes bearing down into the table, not touching his mug even as the tea inside grows cold.
“No, we took the main path down the Arila River, so far less rural,” Yeji explains. “Although it was a good thing you didn’t do the same. There were Dark Army ports all along its bank. We were stopped and searched at every one of them.”
If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from Yeji’s recollection of the besiegement and the time that followed, it’s that the black-clad men are relentless in their pursuit. They want you, at any cost. You only wish you knew who they were, so at least then you’d know why.
“I really am glad you’re alive, Princess,” Yeji says suddenly, hand drifting to rest on your own atop the table. “Libaiya has a chance to be strong again, so long as your blood sits on the throne. You’ll make the perfect Queen.”
You open your mouth to thank her, albeit bashfully, but are cut off as Woo pushes himself from the table. It rattles in protest, although the elemental does not seem to care, as he stomps towards the tent-flap. He does not meet any of your eyes as he disappears beneath it.
“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, tone worried. “Did I say something to-”
“It’s not you,” San reassures her. “He’s just been dealing with a lot lately.”
“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, because you have a feeling about what may be bothering him. Your blood, as Yeji had said. Although to him, it’s more like poison.
“No,” Seonghwa cuts you off, already rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d take it well. I’ll go.”
You want to protest, as Seonghwa does not know about Woo’s past, about the orphanage. The Libaiyan orphanage, and all the horrors that happened there. But the empath is already heading towards the tent flap, and the words die on your lips.
Even so, maybe he is right. Woo is upset, upset about you and your nation, perhaps you are not the one who should attempt to console him. Besides, Seonghwa has always been far better at that.
Yet, as you watch Seonghwa disappear after Woo, you have the sinking feeling it may not go as the empath plans.
Wooyoung cannot breathe.
Making his way blindly through the darkness of the refuge, the sun having set over the horizon, he pushes past Libaiyan’s as he heads for the exit. They turn and look at him as he shoves past, and he wonders if they know. If they can smell it on him.
“You were his,” they whisper as he walks by, or is that just in his head? “One of his dogs. Our dogs. A machine for use. Worthless.”
The last word is in Warden’s voice, and Wooyoung places a hand over his ears to try and tune it out. The other clutching his chest.
He can’t breathe. By the god’s, he really can’t breathe.
Each short pant is as unsatisfying as the next. He feels dizzy, wanting to summon a ball of flame to guide him, but he can’t seem to move his hands in front of him. He pushes forward, searching for an exit through the mazes of tents.
Then he’s covered in something. It’s thin, engulfing him, and panic rises hot in his chest. They’ve gotten him. Again. It’s happening again. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
It’s only after nobody attempts to drag him away and he gets a whiff of soap that he realizes that what covers him is not a bag, but someone's laundry. With shaky hands, he untangles himself from the fabric, before glancing down at his captor.
It’s a Libaiyan flag.
The bright, golden, and horrible sun stares back at him. The same one hung in the cafeteria, the one he pledged allegiance to three times a day. The one plastered atop the ceiling of his bedroom, watching him every night. The one deckled on Warden’s shoulder, as he tortured them relentlessly, as he murdered Yeonjun.
Wooyoung throws it to the ground, hands still shaking as he walks over it, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe stark against the flag’s white background.
“Woo!” A voice calls from behind him, but it sounds far away. Maybe it’s also just in his head. He keeps walking.
He can hear the sound of the same man singing as when you’d all entered the camp. He has a nice voice as he sings Libaiyan songs. Songs he’s never heard. Songs that were reserved for Libaiyan citizens, not slaves.
Wooyoung’s throat burns with the taste of Libaiyan tea. Only one sip, and it will not leave his tongue.
It tasted like the infirmary tent after Assessment Day in the orphanage. Before Warden got there, but not before Wooyoung got beaten within the sparring ring. They’d given him the tea to calm him down, try and make him forget the burns lacing up and down his arms.
With the taste on his tongue it’s as if he can feel them again, the searing pain starting in his mind and seeping into his skin.
“Woo, hold on!” The voice calls again, closer than the last. This time Wooyoung knows it’s not in his head, as he recognizes it to be Seonghwa. The sound of foot-steps follows behind him, as the empath chases after him.
He does not turn around. He needs to get out of this place.
Wooyoung begins to run.
Tearing through the refuge, he sees Bebbenburg’s outer walls appear ahead of him, the light emitted from the lanterns hung on the outside fortress drawing him in like a beacon.
When he reaches the wall, he makes sure to take a few steps inside and past the gates, to ensure that he is no longer within Libaiyan territory. Here, he is within the Kuroken realm. Safe.
He pauses to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the panic that has seized him. Hands placed on his knees, Wooyoung lets the foggy haze fade from his mind, although it does not relinquish control so easily. His heart continues to race, ears ringing with a constant buzz.
Wooyoung doesn’t know why this is affecting him so horribly. He’s been to the Libaiyan castle since entering the orphanage, having stolen plenty of Libaiyan treasures and heirlooms on their heists within the castle.
Then again, that was in the dark of the night, when there were no songs to be sung or tea to be drunk. When the flags were shrouded in pure shadow, not wrapped around him like bonds of rope.
That was when he was in control. That was when he was taking from them. That was revenge.
That was before he entangled himself with their princess.
“Woo, what the hell?” Seonghwa asks as he approaches, slightly out of breath from chasing down the elemental. “Where are you going?”
“Away,” Wooyoung says, because it is all he can manage. He doesn’t look up at Seonghwa, instead staring at the cobblestone beneath his shoes, blinking blearily as he tries to direct his focus to its stone patch-work.
“Why did you just storm out of there?” Seonghwa asks. He’s not mad. Not yet. He genuinely wishes to know.
“Because of what that woman said,'' Wooyoung answers in his mind. “Because it’s true, she is the Libaiyan throne. Because it is her blood that’s done all of this. That did this to me.”
Wooyoung, of course, does not actually say any of this out loud. Seonghwa won’t understand. He doesn’t know, not only about Wooyoung’s past, but the orphanages in general. He’s from a small town within Zaria’s realm, far away from any news about Libaiyan political treachery.
He won’t get it, and Wooyoung isn’t going to even bother to try and explain it to him, especially when his tongue feels three sizes too large and his heart beats at a million times per minute.
“Leave me alone, Hwa,” he mutters, turning away from Seonghwa and heading deeper into Bebbanburg, hoping the empath will take the hint and piss off.
But he doesn’t, because after all, it’s Seonghwa. The blonde follows after him. “Where are you going to go, Woo? You saw the poster, it’s better to stay together, keep a low profile.”
“Leave me alone, Hwa,” Wooyoung repeats, beginning to walk faster, tone a little more pointed.
“Is this about her?” Seonghwa asks, and now his own tone is rising, annoyed as has to jog to catch up to the elemental. “Look I know you’re mad, I am too. But can’t you just push that aside? We’re almost to Kuroku, then we’ll be past it. We can move on.”
“Right. We’ll get to Kuroku. She’ll leave. San will leave. And then inevitably, you will too.”
After being met with silence, Seonghwa lets out a groan of annoyance, continuing to chase after him.
“Woo, stop!” He calls, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung slaps his hand away, perhaps a little harder than he should have. “Can’t we just talk about this? Can’t we have an actual conversation for once instead of you shoving me away?”
Wooyoung keeps moving, because no, they can’t. Not right now. Not like this. Not when he can’t think straight.
“I don’t get what you have to be so mad about anyway!”
Wooyoung stops at this, finally turning around to face Seonghwa. “What?”
Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise that Wooyoung actually stopped. Then he frowns, eyebrows furrowing together, as if remembering his annoyance.
“Yes, she lied to you,” Seonghwa starts. “And I know it sucks. But it’s San’s money on the line, and clearly he’s been able to forgive her.”
Seonghwa swallows hard. “And even if I haven’t been able to do the same, even after all she’s done to me I’m willing to swallow my own feelings to get this journey done. For them.”
Them. By that Seonghwa means San and you. You, after all that you have done - to Seonghwa, to San, to Wooyoung himself - he’s still choosing you.
“Well maybe you shouldn’t, Hwa!” Wooyoung says, and now he’s shouting. It’s good. The anger provides him comfort, something familiar to latch onto. “She used you! She used all of us! I know you have this deep-seeded issue of thinking everyone and everything has good in them, but open your eyes! Not all that glitters is fucking gold! A pair of pretty eyes doesn’t repair what she’s done, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t rotten inside!”
“Just as you are too,” a voice reminds him within his mind, but he ignores it.
Seonghwa opens his mouth to cut back, but Wooyoung is not finished. “She lied through her teeth, and you’re really just going to let it slide? Keep quiet because it’ll make things easier for her? For the sake of the gods, grow a spine!”
“Why do you care so much about what I do?” Seonghwa yells back, taking a step towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s fist is clenched at his side, and for a moment Wooyoung thinks that Seonghwa might actually hit him. He almost wishes he would.
“Why do you care if I forgive her? Why do you care so much about whether I let people walk all over me? Why do you care?”
Wooyoung doesn’t know why he does it.
Maybe it’s the way his mind still buzzes from moments prior, hazy and foggy and unable to think of anything beyond his anger. Anything beyond the way his heart pounds rapidly and vision blurs with an anxious haze.
Maybe it’s the way Seonghwa’s words sting, more than Wooyoung wants to admit, and he wishes to prove the man wrong. Show him that it’s not so simple. Win, in a strange and possibly fucked up way, but win nonetheless.
Or maybe, more than anything, it’s the way Seonghwa is looking at him. Big brown eyes scanning his face, full of anger, but also passion. Desperately searching for an answer, as if there will be a solution to the enigma that is Wooyoung hidden somewhere on the elemental’s face.
Wooyoung knows what the answer is that Seonghwa seeks.
It’s the part of himself that Wooyoung has never admitted exists. The part that he has shoved down, smothered, pretended wasn’t there. The part that flutters at the sound of Seonghwa whining at his teasing. The part that stalls when Seonghwa lets his hand fall onto Wooyoung’s shoulder, thinking nothing of it, simply trying to get the elemental's attention or leaning in to point out something in the distance.
The part that broke the first night you and Seonghwa spent together. Defeated, angry, and beaten down, crawling into his bed that night in a drunken stooper, aching at the thought of the elemental being intimate with someone. Well, someone else.
The part that he once again shoved away the next morning, and had every day before and has every day since.
It’s that part of himself that he’s dejected and ignored that now comes crawling to the surface, invited by Seonghwa’s searching eyes, that unleashes its presence in a way that will make itself known. That will ensure it will no longer be forgotten, that it cannot be ignored or subdued again.
That part of Wooyoung unleashes itself in the form of a kiss.
It’s a horrible one, teeth smashing into teeth as Wooyoung grabs onto the collar of Seonghwa’s tunic and roughly pulls the man into him. In fact, it’s less of a kiss compared to two faces smashing together, Seonghwa clearly not prepared for it, but the message is sent all the same.
Wooyoung holds him there for three seconds, which feel far more like an eternity as they pass by.
Then Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa off of him, letting go of the man’s collar as the blonde stumbles back.
For a moment they stand in silence, and it’s a deafening one. Seonghwa’s hand drifts up to his lips, grazing them, eyes wide as he stares at Wooyoung. He’s clearly in a state of shock, as he says nothing, just stares with his mouth parted open in disbelief.
“There,” Wooyoung breathes. “Do you get it?”
Seonghwa continues to stare at him. Then his eyebrows furrow together, and when he begins to speak, Seonghwa’s tone is incredulous. “Woo, what are you-”
“Forget it,” Wooyoung cuts him off, because he doesn’t want to know what Seonghwa is going to say. He doesn’t want to hear the empath call him crazy, ask him what the hell he’s thinking.
Because Wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that either. The mind-numbing fog has returned to his head, his heart racing even faster than it had before.
He needs to get out of here.
“Just go back to the tent, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, and then his feet are set in motion. He heads deeper into Bebbanburg, away from the Libaiyan tent. Away from you and San. Away from what he’s done, the irreversible mistake he just made.
He runs away, and this time Seonghwa doesn’t follow him.
“What were you thinking, what were you thinking, what were you thinking?” Wooyoung repeats the question to himself over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what he’s done.
The look of bewilderment on Seonghwa’s face, followed by incredulity. Shock, then disbelief. Almost angry, and why shouldn’t he be? How could Wooyoung do something like this? Something so blatantly stupid and thoughtless?
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
Wooyoung still cannot come up with an answer, because frankly, he wasn’t thinking. And he still can’t.
He turns down one of the many alley’s surrounding him, head buzzing, not a clue of where he’s going. All he knows is that it’s away, and for now, that is enough for him.
Wooyoung closes his eyes, hand trailing along the wall beside him as he runs. He feels silly, running with his eyes closed, but he cannot bring himself to keep them open. This way, the world around him fades. He can simply be moving, feel the air rush past him, and pretend that nothing happened.
There are no Libaiyan refugees a few alleyways over. He does not care for the Liabiyan princess, nor did he lose San a mere night ago. He did not reveal his feelings to a man he loves and ruin their entire friendship in one fell swoop.
He is merely running in the darkness, chest heaving for air, fingers scraping along the cobblestone wall.
Maybe, if he keeps running like this, he’ll actually have escaped it all.
Or maybe, running like this is not such an acceptable option, as it stops him from noticing the figure that has been following after him.
Wooyoung does not notice he is being followed until it is too late. Until he’s already been shoved sideways, face smacking into the stone wall beside him.
At the very least, the blows knock him from his stupor, and his eyes fly open as he stumbles. Whirling to face his attacker, fire ignites immediately within his hand, dancing in between his fingers.
However, the second he turns, he’s met with a swift punch to the jaw that catches him off guard. Mostly because it does not come from where he can feel the man beside him - who now pins Wooyoung’s wrist to the alley-wall - but from the other side.
It’s not one attacker, but many.
“Shit,” Wooyoung thinks to himself, spitting out the blood that fills his mouth, the metallic taste thick on his tongue and gritty between his teeth. Eyes searching the darkness around him, his attackers are nothing more than blurs within the night, and he gives the one in front of him a swift kick to the groin. The man lets out a long string of curses, and Wooyoung uses the opportunity to try and rush forward.
It’s of no use, as another man (or two, maybe even three?) pins his wrists to the wall.
It’s not the most efficient way to capture a person, as it leaves their legs functional to kick and mouth free to spit, bite, or scream for help.
Unless, of course, you’re capturing an elemental.
Wooyoung tries to summon fire into his hands, and while it manages to dance around his fingers, the inability to move his arms stops him from managing anything greater. He tries to summon the flame with only his mind, staring at his hand with sheer determination. He knows it’s possible, he’s done it before. Once. The night Yeonjun died.
Of course, he didn’t exactly mean to, and apparently it isn’t the sort of thing he can do by will, as his hands remain barren of flame.
Instead, he’s left helpless, pulling against the grips of the men that bind him. His eyes dart amongst the shadows that surround them, and he tally’s roughly ten of them, although he’s certain that there’s more as he hears shouts from down the alley-way.
One of the men’s hands digs into Wooyoung’s hair, pulling his head forward before slamming it back into the stone-wall. Hard.
Stars dance before Wooyoung, and a darkness creeps into the corners of his vision. He continues to kick out in front of him, although each swing is far weaker than the last, as the pain leaves him sluggish.
The man yanks on his hair again, before slamming his head back into the wall once more, and suddenly Wooyoung is on the ground.
He doesn’t remember crumpling, but the stone pathway is cold against his back, so he must have passed out for a moment. He opens his eyes, vision swaying as he tries to make out the men surrounding him.
He can vaguely spot the face of the man above him. Middle-aged, with a dark beard and intense eyes. He speaks to someone beside him, although Wooyoung’s mind is too muddled to make out the actual words.
Likely not thugs then, as they aren’t even bothering to hide their identities. Besides, there’s too many of them to be a regular mugging. Too conspicuous, so it must be targeted.
But if it’s targeted, then who are they?
“W-who?” He asks, because the full sentence is far too much effort. His words are slurred and he sounds drunk. Which to be fair is an awful lot like how he feels.
The man above him doesn’t answer, but instead places a hand on Wooyoung’s throat, silencing him. With his other two hands, the man pins Wooyoung’s wrists to the ground.
No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. He can't have three hands. Which means it must be somebody else pinning his wrists to the ground, as well as another that slips the cloth bag over his head. How many were there again?
By the god’s Wooyoung really can’t think right now.
“Knock him out,” one of the men speaks from above him. Now that Wooyoung can make out.
Then the world goes black.
“And he seriously didn’t tell you where he was going?” San asks, arms crossed as he leans against the training post outside of the men’s tent. It’s covered in grooves, clearly crafted by a sword, and one in the hands of someone not too pleased. A testament to San’s opinion on Woo not returning to the refuge last night.
“I already told you,” Seonghwa replies. His tone is also frustrated as he sits at an outside table, fingers tapping anxiously in rhythm with his jittering leg. “No. He didn’t.”
“He just took off?” San repeats, and you can understand why Seonghwa is becoming a bit annoyed. It’s also the third time you’ve heard San ask, although you have a feeling the swordsman isn’t actually expecting the answer to change. He simply wants to hear it again, to let him fuel the flame of his annoyance. “Without a word? Without a reason? Out into a city we’re currently being hunted in?”
Seonghwa’s eyes shift to the ground. “Yes.”
“And you let him?”
Seonghwa scowls at this. “What did you want me to do? You know Woo, he’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or thinks.”
Seonghwa has been in a sour mood all morning, and something tells you there may be a little more to Woo leaving than he may be letting on. However, now is not the time to ponder what it might be, nor is it the time to start a fight. You simply need to find him.
“Let’s not start bickering with one another just because Woo’s not around to start it,” you say, attempting to remedy the argument before it can start. Fortunately, neither of the men are overly confrontational, at least not with each other.
“You’re right,” San sighs, turning to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, I know it’s not your fault.”
Seonghwa gives San a sort of half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before staring back down at his shoes. He appears to immediately lose himself in thought, knee bouncing anxiously.
Yeah, something definitely happened last night.
“This isn’t like him,” San says, pulling his sword out from his sheath and spinning it around in his hand. A nervous habit. “Staying out for the night, sure. But he’s always back by the next day. Always.”
With morning long past, the sun high in the sky with the arrival of late noon, San’s statement of “always” is replaced with “until today”, and a sense of uneasiness passes through you.
Something is wrong. You can feel it.
And with both San’s sword spinning in his hand and the sound of Seonghwa’s fingers tapping the table, you know that they can feel it too.
“I think we should go looking for him,” you say, expecting immediate approval. Instead both men look at you, and San shoots Seonghwa a side glance, to which the empath returns.
“What?” You ask, uncomfortable at the fact that it appears they’re both in on something you’re not.
San sighs. “You shouldn’t come.”
“What?” You say, this time with far more anger than confusion. “If Woo’s in danger then of course I’m going to come-”
“If Woo’s in danger then it’s likely because of the men who are looking for you,” San cuts you off, and while his tone is not accusatory, it is pointed.
You prepare a rebuttal, but it dies on your lips. San is right.
If the black-clad men have done something to Woo, then you going looking for him is likely exactly what they would want for you to do. While the stubborn part of you wants to go anyway, put Woo’s safety before your own. Be daring, bold, and perhaps a little stupid, just as Woo is in the face of danger, you know that this is not an option.
You need to get to Kuroku, and if you aren’t yet certain of the danger Woo may be in, you cannot afford to take such blatant risks.
“Alright,” you say, tone defeated as Seonghwa rises to his feet, San making his way towards the path leading outside of the refuge.
You don’t manage the next words until they’ve already left. Leaving you alone, face shrouded by your hood, suddenly aware of the wind’s chill nipping at your skin. The seasons are turning.
“Good luck.”
They are back sooner than you expected.
You sit at a table with Yeji, playing a game of Skirmish. A traditional Libaiyan game meant for children, due to the fact it has few rules and never really ends, so it can keep them occupied for hours. You didn’t particularly want to play, but Yeji said it might help to keep your mind distracted. You figured it was worth a shot.
It didn’t work.
However, it doesn’t matter, as when both San and Seonghwa approach from down the refuge’s path, the cards are forgotten. Tossing your deck to the side, you give San a look, one that asks: “Any luck?”. Although, you’re fairly certain of the answer, as there is no Woo in tow behind them.
San does not give you a look of his own. In fact, he does nothing. He simply stares back at you, a dead look to his eye.
It’s that look, the emptiness of it, that tells you something has gone wrong.
“What happened?” You ask as he approaches, although San does not reply. Instead he gives Seonghwa a fleeting glance, and the blonde meets it. His own expression is not as empty as San’s. In fact, it is the opposite. Brimming with emotion, Seonghwa’s eyes hold worry, mouth drawn tight, jaw clenched. A look of nothing less than pure fear.
“Seonghwa?” You ask, your own worry settling deep in your chest. Something has gone wrong, but what, and how badly?
The blonde doesn’t answer you with words, instead he moves towards the table. You hadn’t noticed before, but he holds something in his hands. The paper is a light tan colour, the size also familiar, and you recognize it to be one of your wanted posters. Immediately you're confused, as why would Seonghwa show you one of these? You’ve already seen dozens of them plastered all over Bebbanburg.
However, as he lays it down onto the table, the answer is blatantly obvious.
The paper is smeared with blood. The red stark against its light colouring, it doesn’t coat the poster fully, but is rather smothered haphazardly, the semblance of fingerprints notable. It’s testament to a job done quickly, as whoever did this did so with one purpose: to get a message across.
The message is made even more clear by the thick, dark lock of hair tied to the corner of the page.
Woo’s.
Beneath the lock of hair is writing, scrawled in black ink.
The Concursos Mountain Pass.
Three Days.
Wooyoung awakens to the back of his head pounding in a violent, aching fashion. The world sways in front of him, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is exactly.
However, at the sight of tarps on all sides of him, the tent coated in darkness as only the light of the setting evening sun is able to get through, he remembers.
Right, the Libaiyan refuge.
Wooyoung groans, blinking as he tries to get his eyes to focus, his pounding head making his thoughts difficult to string together.
He moves his hand, attempting to wipe the sweat beading along his forehead, only to realize that he can’t.
His hands are tied.
Eyebrows furrowing together, he looks over his shoulder. The chains that tie his wrists to the chair that he sits in are thick and made of iron. If he tried to melt his bonds with the fire between his fingers, rather than catching fire like rope, they’d heat up and burn his wrists.
“What the…” He croaks out, throat raspy. Who would have tied him to a chair? Surely not Seonghwa or San. Not very likely you, as he couldn't see what good that would do you. Maybe your friend, the Libaiyan patriot? But why?
Wait.
Wooyoung’s brain pauses, mind doing a double-take as he stares at his bonds, noting bruising along his wrist. The massive purple marks are dark against his bronzed skin, and are almost line-shaped, as if someone had been holding him.
No, he’s not in the Libaiyan refuge, he’s somewhere else.
The memories of last night come rushing back to him. Running from the tent. The fight with Seonghwa. The subsequent kiss with Seonghwa.
His capture.
The shock of it is enough to cause Wooyoung to jolt awake, mind finally clearing even if the pain at the back of his head does not subside.
As if sensing Wooyoung’s realization, a man appears from under the tent-flap. He’s older, his face like a worn-glove, leathery and wrinkled in its places most used. His dark hair is cropped short, although his beard remains long, as well as scruffy.
Most notably, he’s dressed entirely in black armour. One of your predators.
“Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says, and his voice is not as deep as Wooyoung expected.
“Who are you and-”
“Don’t speak. Not everyone has arrived yet,” the man cuts him off dismissively. “Besides, we’ll be the ones asking the questions.”
“Oh, my mistake, I thought-”
Wooyoung doesn’t know why he is surprised by the slap, but he is. Maybe because he hadn’t even had the chance to say the insult he was planning yet. Usually the hit would at least come afterwards.
These men, they aren’t playing around, that is clear.
His cheek stings, and he can imagine the bright red mark appearing along his skin as more men in dark armour appear from under the tent-flap. Wooyoung is surprised by the amount of them that manage to crowd into the space, almost a dozen.Then again, it is a big tent. Mostly empty, other than a small table in the corner, scattered with a variety of knick-knacks and spices that seem non-sensensical. Lunadore pollen, silver beads, Alagor Root, and a bunch of other rare ingredients the Wooyoung does not have time to make sense of, although set him on edge nonetheless.
If they plan to torture him, the table should be full of knives. Hammers. Maybe a few pliers to pull off his fingernails. Not plants.
The man who slapped him - their leader, it seems - clears his throat, and the group of men fall silent. Each of them turn to face Wooyoung, eyes glinting with something dark, something that says that they know more than he does.
Wooyoung makes sure to give each of them in turn a glare.
“I’m sure you know who we are by now,” the man says.
Wooyoung considers playing dumb, maybe earning himself a matching slap on the other cheek. However, he needs information, which means at least for now he must play along.
“You attacked the Libaiyan castle. Killed their king,” Wooyoung answers, meeting the man’s gaze. His eyes are sharp, intimidating, and Wooyoung makes sure not to look away. Not to show any fragility. Even if he has been made into the weakest in the room, he need not show it.
“People have been calling you The Dark Army,” Wooyoung says, and then because he can’t help himself, adds: “Cute name. Very scary. Did you come up with it yourselves?”
The man doesn’t answer his question, but instead smirks. “If you know who we are, I’m sure you also know what we’re looking for.”
You. That’s the answer the man wants. But Wooyoung won’t give that to him. “Power?” He ventures instead. “Glory? Access to the king’s many bejeweled robes?”
The man steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung's face in his hand. His fingers squeeze Wooyoung’s jaw, so much so that it not only hurts, but prevents him from speaking.
“Enough playing coy,” the man says. He still does not seem angry, face blank and tone almost bored as he grips Wooyoung’s face between his fingers. “Tell me where she is.”
He eases his grip just enough to let Wooyoung speak. “Where who is?”
The man’s grip tightens once again, fingernails digging into the elemental’s skin, and Wooyoung forces himself not to wince. “The girl you’ve been running all over Burovia with. The princess turned convict. Ring any bells?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung manages. At this the man lets go of his jaw, but it’s only to deliver another slap that burns along his cheek. The man grips his jaw again, and Wooyoung struggles to focus on the man’s face, blinking away the stars that dance across his vision.
“Yes, you do,” the man says, and this time his tone is almost soft, gentle as he attempts to coax out an answer. Somehow it’s far more unsettling than the blankness. “Is she with the refugees? At one of the hostels, or even a tavern?”
“I told you, I don’t know,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth. This time the man does not slap him, but instead grips his hair as he brings Wooyoung face down into his knee. Pain radiates from his nose through the rest of his face, and when the man lifts him back up, it takes Wooyoung a moment to register the man’s face before him through the blurriness.
It’s not until now that Wooyoung realizes the severity of the danger that he is in.
They want him to hand you over to them, and Wooyoung can’t do that.
But why can’t he do that? It would be the easiest thing to do. Nobody would blame him, after everything that you’ve done, especially if it came down to choosing between his own life or yours. San and Seonghwa would understand.
You are the Libaiyan Princess. Your family sent him to the orphanage. Turning you in would rid himself of the volatile confusion that has plagued him, it would fulfill the dream that his younger self wished for every night and morning. So why can’t he do it?
He knows the answer. How he feels towards you has grown beyond hatred. It’s grown beyond mere toleration for San and Seonghwa’s sake. It’s grown beyond the excuses he’s been telling himself for weeks.
He’s not going to hand you over to them to die, no matter what that may mean for himself. Unfortunately, what that may mean for himself is not looking good.
“You’re going to tell us,” the man states, not to persuade, but to simply state as fact. “It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to put yourself through before you do.”
“Well I have nothing but time,” Wooyoung answers, grinning, and he knows his teeth are bloody. Can feel the grittiness on his teeth, or maybe that’s still from the night before.
The man smiles back. “You have three days.”
Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m just such lovely company?”
“Because that’s how long we’ve given her to come find you.”
Wooyoung pauses at this, and he knows he’s shown a glimpse of weakness. How did they get a message to you? Is he bluffing?
Would you really be stupid enough to come after him?
“Nobody will come,” Wooyoung says, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Surely you wouldn’t come after him. Not when you’re so close to Kuroku, to San’s freedom. You have to keep going, there’s no way you, San, and Seonghwa could take on a dozen armed and highly trained men, especially considering there’s more of them out there somewhere. It would be pointless, a suicide mission.
But Wooyoung also knows that none of you would leave him behind to die.
“That’s fine,” the man says with a shrug. “Either she comes to us, or we go to her with the information you’ll give us. It doesn’t matter.”
“You aren’t going to be able to torture anything out of me,” Wooyoung says with a scoff, tilting his chin up, defiant. “Pain? Yeah, I’ve been through my share.”
The corner of the man’s lip curves upward, eyes gleaming. “I know. That’s what they told me.”
Wooyoung frowns. They?
The man chuckles at Wooyoung’s weary expression, finally letting go of his hold on the elemental’s jaw. The group of soldiers step back, creating a pathway for him as the man heads over to the table covered with rare ingredients and spices.
The man begins to fiddle around with them, although what exactly he’s doing Wooyoung can’t make out, his vision obscured by the other men standing before him.
“Do you know what they say about those whose body cannot be broken?” The man calls over his shoulder, and Wooyoung catches a glimpse of what is in his hand: a small bowl and mallet, which he uses to grind down the Alagor Root.
“No,” Wooyoung answers, wary.
“Break their mind instead,” the man states, holding up a small vial of purple liquid that Wooyoung cannot identify, before pouring into the bowl. A strange, dark and odorous smoke wafts up from the concoction. It smells like something burning, although what exactly Wooyoung cannot place. That is, until he can. It’s burnt flesh. It reminds him of the infirmary tent, of his scorched arms.
An inkling of fear settles into Wooyoung’s chest as he becomes increasingly aware of the bonds on his wrist. He can’t move, run, fight back, or do anything, really.
For a man with so much power, he’s grown accustomed to never feeling powerless. For a moment, it’s like he’s thirteen again. At Warden’s disposal and no fire to call his own.
The man places the empty vile back down on the table, before grabbing something else Wooyoung cannot see, although he can hear the sizzling noise it makes as he adds it to the bowl.
Wooyoung cannot take the silence any longer, his curiosity - or better, fear - overtaking him. “What are you doing?” He asks.
Instead of answering him, the man begins to mutter something beneath his breath, making a strange circular motion with his hand above the bowl, which he has set back down on the table. Wooyoung cannot make out what he is saying, but the way the words leave his lips is almost rhythmic, like a priest delivering a chant.
Wooyoung scowls, opening his mouth to interrogate the other men around him as to what the hell is going on, but the words die on his tongue. He knows what the man is doing.
It’s part of the Old Faith. Old Magic.
Dark magic.
Wooyoung has never been a devoted servant to the gods. In fact, for all of his life he’s hated them. He hated them as a child for giving him a gift he could not use. He hated them as a teenager for cursing him with the power to destroy everything he held dear. He hates them as an adult for idly standing by as all of the horrible events of his childhood tumbled down one after the other.
However, even with his hatred towards the gods, he’s always considered worshiping them to be far more understandable than the Old Faith. More particularly, the Old Magic aspect.
It’s a breach of order. If the gods blessed the gifted with their powers, then Old Magic defies that. It’s taking from the earth what was not given to you. It’s blasphemous. Immoral and unnatural. At its very core wrong.
Wooyoung tugs at the chains around his wrists, which clatter in protest. Panic begins to rise in his chest, as one thought fills his head: “What the fuck are they going to do to me?”
The man finishes his chant, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a miniature knife. He uses it to create a small cut along the tip of his finger, holding it above the bowl as a drop of blood collects around the wound, before dropping into the potion.
Smiling to himself in satisfaction, the man takes the bowl with him as he heads back towards Wooyoung. Stopping before him, the man takes a moment to meet the elemental’s eyes, that glimmer of darkness potent within his gaze.
Wooyoung does not look away, but by the gods, he wants to.
“Well,” the man says. “Open up.”
Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut, lips pursing together. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feeling its thump throughout his entire body. He can’t drink that. He isn’t sure what it will do, but he knows that its something horrible.
It will break his mind. That is what the man had said.
And while Wooyoung has always had confidence in his abilities, perhaps even relied on himself more than he should, for the first time that confidence falters.
“So this is what it takes for you to be quiet,” the man jests, earning a few chuckles from the others around him. “Good to know.”
When Wooyoung doesn’t reply, the man nods to a couple of the soldiers beside him. “Open his mouth.”
Four of the men approach him, and Wooyoung fights against the bonds of his chair, even if he knows it’ll be pointless. The chains against his wrists and ankles hold him still, and as two of the men grab his shoulders to stop the chair from rattling, he’s left with nothing but twisting his face away from the men who grab at him.
Hands blur across his vision as he feels one of the men press an arm to his throat. Another digs into his scalp, pulling his hair in order to bring his head back and face upwards. Fingers claw at the crevices of his face, digging beneath his cheekbones, into his ears, scratching along his lips.
It’s overwhelming, but Wooyoung stays focused, repeating over and over again in his mind, “Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth.”
It’s not until the elbow pressing into his throat has been there for a little too long that Wooyoung registers that he needs to breathe. Black lines creeping into the corners of his vision, head beginning to feel foggy, he does his best to ignore it.
Until he can’t any longer. Against his mind’s will, when the man removes his elbow from the elemental’s throat, Wooyoung gasps for air.
The men do not waste the opportunity.
Fingers dig themselves into his mouth, and while he attempts to bite down on them, their force is too strong as the many hands pull back his cheeks. Limbs bound, hair pinned, and face pulled back, he’s left helpless as the man with the bowl approaches him.
As the man lifts the bowl above the elemental’s face, a smile grazes over his lips, and Wooyoung knows that he is enjoying this.
The liquid burns as it pours down his throat, rubbing like sand-paper along his tongue. It tastes familiar. Like stale bread, but worse. Rotten with mold. Wooyoung gags but the man does not stop, not until the final drops fall from the bowl and into his open mouth.
The men do not release him until he swallows the concoction, and he feels it as it settles down into his gut, twisting and turning like cheap whiskey.
Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, chest heaving and sweat beading along his forehead as he looks at the man before him. He continues to smile that awful, wretched grin, empty bowl in hand.
“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” the man says, for no other reason but to rub salt in the wound.
Wooyoung spits on his shoes.
The man does nothing, merely takes a few steps back as he continues to watch Wooyoung with an analytical gaze, as if observing whatever the hell is supposed to happen. For a few moments, Wooyoung feels nothing but the tension that hangs in the room as all of the men stare at him. He feels like a monster in a cage, like one of those griffin’s from a traveling circus he saw passing through Gloria many years ago. Undeniably dangerous, but stripped down to a mere display for people to gawk at.
Then he notices it. It doesn’t start as much, more of a feeling in the back of his mind than anything else. An uncomfortable tingling sensation creeping through him, like an itch beneath his skin, little prickles of worry like ants tunneling through his veins.
He blinks, and his vision goes blurry.
The men in front of him transform into foggy statues and he blinks again, but instead of focusing it only gets worse. He swallows hard, only to find his throat has gone dry, the saliva refusing to go down.
Heat settles itself in his gut, rising into his chest as an aching sensation washes through him. Wooyoung lets out a low whine, one that under any other circumstances would humiliate him, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Not when his body feels as if it’s rejecting him.
“What did you do to me?” Wooyoung asks, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. The man hums softly, reaching forward to hold Wooyoung’s chin. This time his grip is gentle, and Wooyoung wants to slap it away, but he doesn’t have the strength. In fact, if it weren’t for the man holding his head up, he’s certain his chin would have fallen down to his chest. Maybe it already had, Wooyoung doesn’t remember.
“This is the easy part, Jung Wooyoung,” the man says, and Wooyoung swears that that is the first time the man has said his name. Although the worry is replaced by agony as another ripple of pain rattles through him.
“Remember. You tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it stop,” the man says. “You’d be wise to accept that offer.”
Wooyoung blinks up at him, and he thinks thaf tears stain his eyes, although his vision is too foggy to notice a difference. “And if I don’t?”
“I don’t know,” the man says, giving a soft, condescending thumb-stroke along his cheek. “They always tend to comply.”
You cannot sleep.
The tent feels crammed, even though you’re well aware that there’s more than enough space. Yeji sleeps soundly, a few feet away and face turned from you as the peaceful sighs of deep slumber escape her lips. It is dark, only the faintest hint of moonlight seeping through the tent’s thin fabric, and yet it feels too bright.
You do not wish to sleep. There are things to be done. This is no time for rest.
They have Woo.
The men you’ve been fearing this entire journey. The ones that ambushed your father, that killed Mingi, that besieged your castle and robbed your life right out from under your feet. The men that have made you paranoid, always keeping one eye over your shoulder, creating wariness with each new city and step you have taken.
The men you have feared would kill you, they have taken him instead.
And somehow that is so much worse.
It’s not something you’d anticipated, always having assumed that if the black-clad men were to find you, you would be the one to face the consequences. The idea that travelling with the three men was putting them in the crossfire of the mysterious army hadn’t occurred to you. After all, it’s your wanted posters on every city street, not theirs.
How stupid you had been, and now Woo is gone. Captured by your family’s assassins, and only the god’s know what sort of danger he is in.
It’s your fault. It’s you they really want, he is just a pawn in their greater game. You’ve been outplayed, and Woo is the one forced to pay the price of your failure.
They could be torturing him for information. You know the sorts of things powerful men do to prisoners, having heard whispers about it in your halls, the dungeons located deep beneath the castle. Using a whip to lash the back until there's more blood left than flesh, spending hours drowning them within a bucket of water, pouring vials of liquid metal along the skin. Maybe one of them is a sadist, and Woo’s face is blistered and burnt beyond repair.
Maybe he’s already dead.
You roll over, eyes accustomed enough to the darkness that you can make out the ceiling of the tent above you. Although really, what you see is Woo, pleading for mercy as one of the black-clad men delivers the final blow. Woo goes silent, his eyes still open, and you know that it is over. He is gone.
Another person you care for, dead.
You cannot just sit here like this and let that happen. However, while you were prepared to head to the Concursos Mountain Pass the moment Seonghwa placed the message down in front of you, both he and San urged caution.
“This is clearly a trap,” San had said, wrapping a hand around your wrist to stop you from heading down the path towards the refuge’s exit. “They’re going to be prepared, which means we need to be. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything.”
“We have three days,” you snapped back, frustrated. “Yeji said the journey is at the very least a full day’s ride. We don’t have the time to sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”
“Then we have a day and a half to come up with something,” San replied, tone calm but also curt. He was not entertaining the possibility of going now, no matter how much anger you added to your glare. “Maybe we can form a group of some of the other refugees and leave together.”
“There’s only two horse’s between the entire refuge,” you cut back. “We cannot make it in time by foot. There’s no chance of us building our own army, if that’s what you're implying.”
“We’ll figure it out,” San said, still not budging. However, beneath his steady gaze, you could see the faintest hint of worry. Of doubt. Of knowing that there may have been no other option but to go alone, although he was not ready to admit it. Not ready to acknowledge the truth that weighed down on each of your shoulders.
The fact that it may come down to Woo’s life, or your own.
Thus, a second truth sat just as heavy. He would choose Woo. They both would.
It’s not until this moment, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, that you realize you would choose Woo too.
You will not have him die for you. You will not have the black-clad men take anything else from you. Not him. Not like this.
If they are to kill you, let it be your own doing. Not ambushed for the money they have placed on your head, or killed silently in an alley-way along the streets of Bebbanburg. You will not be your father, stabbed at his own celebration, unaware of what was coming. If you are to die, let you come to them with your sword in hand, fighting for a man who - even when you haven’t deserved it - fought for you.
Rising to your feet, you pull the blanket off of you, heading towards the tent flap. Stopping in place, you turn back, watching Yeji’s sleeping silhouette, chest rising and falling peacefully.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it is not only to her, but to all of them. All of the Libaiyan’s uprooted from their homes, left to wander Burovia with no kingdom to call home. They had finally been reunited with their princess, only for you to leave them once more. It is selfish. It is what your father would consider an abandonment of responsibility.
Maybe you are abandoning your royal duty, or perhaps you are fulfilling your duty to another.
Either way, it must be done.
Slipping out from under the tent flap, you can hear San and Seonghwa talking within their own tent, though you cannot make out what they are saying. Good, they're busy. They will likely not notice you’re gone until morning.
Scanning the field, the man continues to sing by the fire, and it is the same song as before. Lute in hand, he serenades the men and women surrounding him, although the number has depleted under the blanket of the night.
As you approach the horse tied to a nearby tent-pole, you sing along quietly beneath your breath, to the words you have known your entire life.
“My love for whom I do come home,”
“I’ve been bathed in scars, both body and soul,”
“And while I’ve returned beneath darkened gloam,”
“Without you this place may never be whole.”
Although, while you may sing his words, unlike the man within the song you will not be so passive.
You will find Woo, and you will bring him home. Even if you do not come back with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
next chapter.
#seonghwa fanfiction#wooyoung fanfiction#san fanfiction#seonghwa angst#wooyoung angst#san angst#seonghwa fluff#san fluff#wooyoung fluff#seonghwa smut#san smut#wooyoung smut#seonghwa x reader#wooyoung x reader#san x reader#ateez imagines#ateez headcanons#ateez fanfiction#ateez x reader#ateez smut#ateez#seonghwa x you#san x you#wooyoung x you#ateez series#ateez fantasy au#wooyoung fanfic#san fanfic#seonghwa fanfic#woosanhwa
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fic rec friday 34
welcome to the thirty-fourth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.
1. Red Poppies by @icypantherwrites
Hanahaki (with a twist) AU — Lance has never experienced a case of Hanahaki this bad. He wishes he could say it’s just the amount of flowers he’s coughing up and desperately trying to hide from the team, just as he’s trying to hide the fact that he technically died at Omega Shield from them, but it’s not just that. It’s the fact he keeps choking out red poppies. And red poppies...
They symbolize death.
the most interesting take on hanahaki ive ever seen tbh. i know icy panther is known for her edgier storytelling, but this is one of my faves of hers! i like the originality of it, and of course i adore the addressing of the omega shield disaster
2. Voltron: Last Dialogue by @uncouth-peasant [IMPLIED CHARACTER DEATH]
After the events of Omega Shield, the Astral Plane has a visitor.
okay look i know everyone freaks about major character death but im asking u to read this anyway. for one its only IMPLIED, technically lance could still be alive, and also it’s just a really well-written fic. lance and shiro have so so so much potential with how similar their characters and arcs are, so i loved how this one explored that in its heartbreak
3. The Poison of Deceit by @icypantherwrites
This diplomatic mission is not going the way Lance had hoped. The diplomacy part on behalf of Voltron is going fantastic and Lance doesn’t think he’d be remiss in saying he had a large hand in that. But the whole impress Shiro bit is an epic fail as Shiro doesn’t seem to notice his efforts at all and it’s only worse with Keith showing him up at nearly every turn. The aliens they’re working on the alliance though have noticed his efforts. But as Lance stands here now, Shiro and Keith’s lives along with a vial of poison in his hands, he isn’t so certain that was a good thing.
the fuckin ‘i drank poison to save your life’ trope will NEVER get old idc idc. the heart dropping moment when the team realises that by doubting lance they may have cost him his life...insanity fr. like i eat this shit up every time
4. blind spots by @adelfie
Lance knows something’s wrong.
Keith turns his gaze on him, dark eyes latching onto him like an anchor.
Normally this is when Lance can think of something stupid to say to make Keith smile. Bonus points if he can get a laugh. Usually it isn’t hard — smiles come easy when it’s them. But something is wrong, and Lance knows that Keith’s smile will be the farthest thing from him if he says it.
--
Lance gets hurt during a mission with Keith and the Blades.
blade pining down bad keith in startled awe of bamf lance...it eats every single time like lets be honest my friends. bamf lance in every flavour is delectable but through keith’s view????? oh god it’s something special
5. Isn’t There A White Knight by @bosstoaster-writing
Kink Meme FIll: "In the first episode, Lance says that Shiro is his hero. But Shiro is still just a guy in his mid twenties, and we've seen him join in on silly stuff ("Blam blam blam!").
So what I want is five times Lance sees Shiro do dorky, ridiculous things, and one time he realizes he'd still follow this dork to Hell and back."
C'mon, as if I could pass that up.
five plus one? check. lance learning to know his idol as a human? check. gentle and careful and clumsy relationships? check. and dorky loser goober shiro, my love and light? CHECK CHECK CHECK. this fic is so so fun. shiro should get the right to be a dorky goober at all times and anyone who writes that is my hero
that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!
#fic rec friday may have been the best thing i did on this blog tbh#vld#voltron#lance#lance mcclain#keith#keith kogane#klance#shiro#takashi shirogane#lance & shiro#team as family#langst#fic rec#fic rec friday
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LOGICAL ➳ Y. JUNGWON
➙ synopsis: you had known from the beginning that your relationship with jungwon was far from perfect, many would simply put it as toxic because of how manipulative he was but you were too blinded by love that all the lies and deceit felt meaningless. it was too late before you realised how dysfunctional it all was, love wasn't logical after all.
pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader
genre: angst, lovers to exes au
word count: 1.1k
warnings: not proofread, jungwon is toxic (and so is your relationship with him), reader cries at some point
a/n: this is officially the first one done for the series! I hope you guys enjoy it, reblogs are highly appreciated too! :)
— GUTS X ENHYPEN SERIES MASTERLIST !
Everything had seemingly came crashing down and you were stuck right in the middle of the storm.
It felt like everything you knew that he'd told you was just acid burning through a surface.
Yang Jungwon was no saint. He may have looked like one but, looks can be deceiving.
Everyone had warned you about him and his manipulative ways but you were smitten.
You had fallen for him and hard, nothing anyone said could've stopped you from letting go of him and the deep connection you had.
You were brainwashed, yes, but what made you feel stupid was how long it took you to realise that your relationship with Jungwon really meant nothing to him.
He simply drew you a picture of everything you wanted, the picture perfect relationship with the most perfect boyfriend but you couldn't see the cracks in this little fantasy.
You were mislead into a fake reality that seemed so perfect that you were afraid of losing it.
Only after you saw the truth behind it all did you realise how much control Jungwon had over you.
He made you doubt the obvious and simply believe and stay in the fantasy he'd painted out for you because 2 + 2 actually equals 5 right, it didn't make sense at first but then again nothing in your relationship did and so you just chose to blindly believe whatever and every grain of critical thinking seemingly dispersed slowly.
"I really am a fool huh. I could've stopped it from going on for so long but I let that master manipulator have his way." you say laughing bitterly as your best friend sat beside you rubbing your back comfortingly.
Constantly seeing the signs that he was never a good influence to have around and yet you ignored the warning signs because he made you 'happy'.
You had heard all the rumours about him and yet it went through one ear and right through the other choosing to not believe the truth behind everyone who was trying to protect you from getting hurt.
"Jungwon, who was that girl I saw you with the other day with your friends?" you ask him looking down nervously.
"Hmm? Oh that was... a friend of mine." he says monotonously as he walks past you not bothering to say anything else.
You knew deep down that it was better to trust your gut instincts and they were telling you that he wasn't being completely truthful yet you once again turned a blind eye to your boyfriend mistreating you because the following day he would shower you with gifts and tell you how much he loved you.
He deserved just that much forgiveness right.
You were blind in love and this little world you both had was enough for you.
All you needed was Jungwon to feel complete you thought.
It was evident that you were holding onto something that wasn't pure and sincere, your relationship with Jungwon was nothing but lies and deception but you still saw 'the good side' in him.
How he lead you to believe he was changing, becoming a better man for you.
And yet, the more he lied to you, the more you started believing the things he'd say.
"It's possible for people to change. Jungwon is changing just for me, don't you guys see it?" you tell your friends thinking fondly of him as your friends shared a knowingly worried look between one another.
"(Y/n) snap out of it, Jungwon keeps messing with your feelings, he's gaslighting you." one of them says trying to calmly express herself.
Leaving him wasn't any easy either, you'd been committed for a solid two years now and you weren't willing to throw that away.
He would call you less, he was less affectionate, he was staying out with friends more and he was gradually gravitating away from you.
Everytime you finally had enough of him and would call him out, he somehow found a way to win you over to give him another chance.
"You know I would never hurt you baby. I had too much to drink and did something stupid but you know I'll always love you." Jungwon said holding your hand in his as he wiped your tears with his other hand.
He sure was convincing you thought, he knew which exact poisonous words to use just to have you running back to him.
It was nothing but broken promises and the same story.
He would mess up, you would call him out, you both would get into an argument and he wakes up the next morning begging for forgiveness but never owning up to what he did.
You couldn't let yourself keep suffering like this anymore.
Nothing made sense, you thought he was the perfect guy you fell in love with in the beginning but now you don't know who Jungwon became, better yet maybe this was a side of him he hid from the very beginning like everyone warned you about, but you were slowly losing yourself through the dysfunctionality of your toxic relationship with him.
The fantasy world he'd created for you was crumbling down and you started to see him for who he really was.
You started to see how distorted everything he'd say was only after you finally chose to see the truth.
You thought it was a bright and magical island but this fantasy had it's faults, from the green skies to the red grass... how didn't you see this all before.
"God I'm so stupid." you say thinking back to your past relationship.
You tried making him happy, that was your main goal your entire relationship, to see Jungwon smile and be the reason behind it.
It made you blame yourself thinking you couldn't even keep your own boyfriend happy.
He trapped you.
It all felt like endless drowning and you didn't know when you'd hit the bottom.
Jungwon made sure he had you wrapped around his finger just so he could use you as he pleased and wiggle his way back into your life by painting a false picture of someone he never was... and you fell for it each time.
You both had so many problems in your relationship, very clearly your problems were unsolvable and you just kept trying to make something out of nothing.
Who was to blame but yourself.
You put yourself in this position, you could've stopped it all from the beginning when you realised how all Jungwon did was mistreat you but you didn't.
Because you 'loved him' ?
He couldn't even give you just that much back so why did you put yourself through so much heartache.
"This whole love thing is fucked up." you say looking at your best friend who nods beside you.
Love was never logical but you had to learn it the hard way.
SERIES TAGLIST: @enhastolemyheart @jungwonscafe @firstclassjaylee
#junnieverse.zip#junnieverse.guts#jungwon#yang jungwon#enhypen#enha#enhypen jungwon#yang jungwon x reader#jungwon x reader#jungwon angst#jungwon scenarios#jungwon imagines#jungwon oneshots#enhypen x reader#enha x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen oneshots#enhypen angst#enhypen imagines#kpop#kpop scenarios#kpop angst#kpop oneshots#kpop imagines
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stay with me
pairing: han jisung x gn reader
genre: angst, comfort, uni au – MDNI
synopsis: jisung comforts you during your hour of need, vowing to forever stay with you
warnings: established relationship, mental health, general feeling of very low moods, feeling not enough, reader failing to care for themselves due to the low moods, mention of skin picking (lips and around fingernails), pet names
words: 2.2k ~ (2207)
☆ m.list — ☆ you can also read it on my ao3
this work is not to be reposted and/or translated!
feedback & reblogs are highly advised and appreciated
your eyes burn from the harsh light of the laptop screen. your back and shoulders hurt from slouching plus the little to no support your chair provides.
you chew on your yellow highlighter pen, eyes flickering from your uni textbook, to your screen and back down to the textbook. you drag the highlighter across the page, letting out a deep sigh.
“y/n?!” a voice calls out. they repeat your name over and over again, but you didn't hear. not because you're listening to music or anything, but because you're so focused on getting your task done.
the door to your pitch black room opens, jisung standing in the doorway. he frowns, noticing your slump figure in the darkness, the harsh light of the screen showing your unkempt features.
he was correct; his suspicions were true.
“y/n!?” jisung calls a bit louder, slowly walking towards you. you look up at him, blinking a few times.
“oh. hi.” you briefly say before resuming back to your task.
“what are you–”
“studying.” jisung let's out a small sigh. he looks around your room, biting his lip softly.
“baby..”
“if you've come here for a chitchat, then leave. i don't have time.” jisung winces at your tone of voice, deciding to push it to the side once he sees faint stress lines across your forehead.
“i came to see how you were doing. i haven't heard from you for days, y/n.”
“yeah, well, as i said, i don't have time.”
“you can't keep doing this.”
“doing what?”
“this! pushing me aside and others when things get bad again. burying yourself in work.”
“i'm fine, jisung.”
“are you really?”
“yes.” jisung sighs, gently pushing the screen of your laptop down. you frown at him, displeased with his actions. “jisung! why–”
“baby.. you're not ok.” he kneels down to your level, hands gently on your legs that's currently cross legged on your seat.
“i already told you, i'm fine. what part of that don't you understand?”
“all of it! i'm not blind nor stupid y/n. i've known you long enough to know when it gets too much. so why push me away? why lie to me.”
you chew your bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with jisung. you refuse to let your walls down because if you did, he would've won and you don't want to give him that satisfaction.
“i'm not lying, jisung. i'm fine, honestly!” you fake a smile, hoping it was enough for him to up and leave, for him to drop the topic
but it's jisung, he can see right through your lies and deceit.
“when was the last time you cared for yourself?” you swallow, chewing on the corner of your lip.
“this morning.”
“oh yeah? what did you do?”
“brushed my teeth…” you say meekly. jisung sighs softly, cupping your cheek in his hand and forcing you to look at him. his heart breaking at the sight of your dark circles, bags under your eyes to accommodate.
“you have to take care of yourself baby. eat, sleep, stay hydrated.”
“well, it's hard to do any of that when i feel like this.” you mumble, moving away from his grip to look back down at your lap.
“like what?” silence. you press your lips together, mind running a mile a minute. words scrambling together, a burning lump forming in your throat as your eyes slowly fill with tears.
jisung coos softly, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. he rubs soft circles on your hand as a way of comfort.
for the first time in weeks, you felt a spark of life, warmth.
“like i'm not enough.” you choke out. “like everything i do is just meaningless.”
“hunny…” jisung speaks, his tone of voice is soft and gentle. it brings you comfort, so much so, it threatens your walls to crumble.
“i just–” you start, fiddling with the sleeve of your jumper, “i just want something. i don't know what, but i know i want something, anything.”
“why didn't you call me or text me baby?” jisung places his hands on top of yours to stop you from picking the skin from around your nails
“because i cannot bring myself to pick up my phone and talk. i have no energy for that and every time i see a notification or my phone buzzes, i get annoyed. so annoyed that i feel rage in my stomach, sungie. i know everyone means well but my head, my feelings. i'm so jumbled up, sungie..”
“let me care for you. let me stay over and help.” you shake your head no, biting your bottom lip harder. “why not, darling?”
“because i don't want to be a burden..”
“darling!” jisung starts. he cups your cheeks with both hands, his heart shattering at the sight of your glossy eyes slowly filling with tears. your bottom lip swollen and caught between your teeth. your lips are chapped and swollen, the skin missing from them due to your bad habits of picking.
“you could never, ever be a burden to me.” his voice is soft with a hint of sternness and sincerity. you look to the side to avoid eye contact.
“b–but..” you sob, words getting scrambled in your head, caught in your throat due to the fast growing burning lump.
“sh baby. you're important to me, to others! i treasure you so much and I need you in my life. I'll be your comfort, your safe space, a place for you to call home. no matter the time or day, i'll drop everything in a heartbeat to make sure you're ok and safe.”
“sungie, i–”
“say no more darling. go take a shower and i'll clean up here. sound good?”
you nod slowly, standing up from your seat. jisung gives you a gentle peck on the cheek, the feeling of warmth slowly spreading throughout your body. you give him a weak smile before grabbing some clean underwear and loungewear.
you make your way to the bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothing as you turn the shower on to allow it to get warm. you look in the mirror, letting out a heavy sigh at the state of your dark circles, bags and unwashed hair.
you step in the shower, the hot water beating down on your skin. you slowly slide down the cold, damp tiles, wrapping your arms around your legs, holding them close to your chest.
before you know it, hot tears mix with the shower water, cascading down your cheeks.
broken sobs shake your frame, the sounds being drowned out by the sound of the shower. you're cold, despite the hot water beating down on your fragile skin. you're alone, despite the fact you have a lover and friends.
it just happened and you hate it when it happens because there's no warning signals. nothing to prepare you.
it's loud. your head is loud, the voices screaming at you, laughing in your face. telling you negative things, telling you that this is how you should feel because you don't deserve to be happy.
it's suffocating. you can't breathe. it has a hold of you, choking and squeezing your neck until you can't take it anymore. your body is shaking, oxygen becoming less and less.
“y/n?!” jisung rushes into the bathroom, stepping into the shower. you look up through your wet lashes, a wave of relief washing over you. his clothing soon soaks up the shower water, his hair turning curly, water dripping down his temples.
“sungie.” you weakly shake out. he kneels in front of you, unwrapping your arms from your legs and pulling your fragile frame into his chest. that comfort, that all too familiar warmth surrounding you.
you're safe.
you couldn't help it. as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, you broke down in broken sobs and wails. jisung holds you as tight as possible, rocking you side to side whilst hushing you.
“shh baby, it's okay. i'm here.” his soft words soothing your soul, calming your mind. you grip onto his t-shirt as tight as you can, gripping onto it for dear life in fear of him letting you go.
“d-don't let me go!” you shakily whisper through your wails.
“never darling! i will always have you!” jisung pulls away from you gently, stroking and pushing your wet hair from your face. his own heart breaks at the sight of you.
you hold little to no emotions, nothing but an empty shell. but he sees it, he sees that small glimmer of love you hold for him.
“what happened baby?”
“i-i don't know. it just got so loud and so suffocating. i couldnt.. i tried Sungie, i tried to fight it. it feels like i'm shackled, cursed to feel like this forever.”
“my darling, you are not cursed. recovery doesn't just happen overnight. having bad days and low points is all part of the process. it doesn't mean you're back to square one.”
“but it feels like it..”
“i know my love. you have to remember how you deal with those bad days is what matters. you should call me, text me. you shouldn't be alone when you're feeling like this!”
“i know.. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry jisung.”
“hey,” he smiles softly at you, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “you have nothing to apologize for. don't ever apologize for feeling like this, ya hear me?!”
“ok..” jisung kisses your forehead gently, standing up and pulling you up on your feet.
“my darling. i'd walk on a thousand legos for you.” he says, pulling you close to his chest. “barefooted, might i add ”
you giggle softly, wrapping your arms around him.
“that sounds painful.” you mumble.
“mhm. but it's worth it if it's for you.”
“i love you, sungie.”
“and i love you too, y/n. now, let's get cleaned up. i s'pose i best shower now seeing as i'm drenched.”
you pull away from his chest, looking a bit sheepish and feeling guilty.
“sorry..” you mumble.
“stop apologizing.” jisung chuckles, stripping himself of his soaked clothing. “this just gives me an excuse to shower with you.” he gives you a gummy smile, a smile that makes you feel warm and whole again.
“oh hush.” you mumble, feeling your cheeks burn and turn red.
“never.” jisung washes his body and hair, encouraging you to do the same. despite the fact that you still feel like you have no energy, watching jisung rush through his routine gives you some energy to keep up with him.
once you're both clean, you step out of the shower. you dry your hair and body, jisung helping you to dry your hair with the dryer before settling on leaving his damp. he puts on some grey sweats and a white vest before taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen.
“hungry?” he asks.
“actually,” jisung stops in his tracks, his full attention on you; as always. “can we stargaze for a while?”
jisung smiles softly, nodding and walking to your balcony door. he opens it, the bitter night air hitting you both suddenly. you sit on the cheap metal chairs as jisung kisses your cheek gently.
“i'll be right back.” you frown, watching him dash off wondering what he is doing. not long after, he returns with a thick fleece blanket, sitting beside you and placing the blanket over your shoulders and his own.
you rest your head on his shoulder, jisung holding you close to his side as you look up at the clear night sky. the stars are shining their brightest, the moon illuminating the streets.
“stars are so pretty.” you mumble. jisung hums softly in acknowledgement
“do you like stars, baby?”
“i love them.”
“any reason as to why.”
“because they're the souls of the many people and animals that have left earth. they come out to comfort their loved ones.”
“that's so pretty, y/n.” jisung hums
“yeah?” you look up at him. your heart melts at the sight of him. the moon illuminates his facial features, making him look so soft and warm. he looks down at you, eyes filled with love and sparkling.
“yeah.” he whispers, stroking your hair gently.
“thank you jisung.”
“for what?”
“for today. for treating me like a normal human. for not running away and caring for me. you provide me with so much comfort and warmth. truthful, i've been feeling so empty the last few days, my head was scrambled and my body on autopilot. then you came and well, saved me. you filled me back up with warmth, showed me what it is to feel love again; to feel like a human.”
“baby…”
“just, thank you. i appreciate and adore you. you're my home, jisung and i'm just.. so thankful that you haven't given up on me.”
“i'd never, ever give up on you baby! no matter how far you push, how much you don't want help, all that stuff. i'm always going to stay by your side!”
“stay with me, sungie?” you whisper, lifting your head up from his shoulder. jisung cups your cheek gently and holds your hand. he leans in, eyes closing slowly as do yours.
“i'll forever stay with you.”
note: ig im back from my break. honestly, the break has been good so expect more if needed :) i wrote this at the beginning of my break when my head was just a mess. writing this gave me comfort and seeing as jisung is my comfort, its natural that i wrote about him. don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3
tags [open]: @sstarryoong ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @cixrosie ; @alyszaen ; @skizzel-reblogs ; @writerracha ; @pixigreen ; @myprwttyhan
#kwritersworldnet#wkcnet#straykidsland#skz angst#stray kids angst#han jisung#jisung#han jisung x you#han jisung x reader#jisung x you#jisung x reader#skz x you#skz x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#han jisung angst#jisung angst#stray kids oneshot#skz oneshot#skz scenarios
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†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†
“[ Never forget that justice is what love looks like in public. ]”
ʚ♡ɞ ✑ General Information
Full Name — Noriko Dolion
↳ [ Name meaning ]
Noriko -> Law; Rule; Order; Ceremony; Child.
Dolion -> Deceitful; Treacherous; Crafty.
Japanese Ver. — ノリコ・ドライオン
Romaji Ver. — Noriko doraion
Tarot Card: The Justice — XI
Age: 19
V/A(日本語): Shinichiro Miki
V/A(英語/EN): Daman Mills
Species: Human
Height: 190cm/6'3
Hair color: Royal blue with light blue tips
Eye Color: Amber
Tarot Rank: XI/11
Gender/Pronouns: Transmasc Nonbinary (They/He)
Dominant Hand: Left
Sexuality: Bisexual
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
ʚ♡ɞ ✑ Extra Information
Dormitory: Etteilla (@rosietrace)
Class: A
School Year: Third year
Best class(es): Physical education, Magical History
Worst class(es): Alchemy
Likes: Winter, fencing, taking care of horses, Scrapbooking
Dislikes: Anything with Roses, Spring, Injustice
Hobbies: Keeping diaries, listening to people talk
Talent(s): Sword fighting, poetry
Flaw(s): Blind Loyalty, Too serious, humor less, boring (in Elara's words), Can't let go of the past, jealousy (Specifically towards the mistress)... Socially awkward.
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
ʚ♡ɞ ✑ Personality
Noriko Dolion is a just and fair person to all, they have a strong sense of justice and moral code. Or at least that's how they used to be. Noriko is loyal to a fault to his master, their word is his law, his justice and sword is within their their judgment. They are ridden with guilt of past and current actions yet they can't disappoint those around them. They'll put themselves second to their masters wants, their mission.
They are serious to the point it could be considered comedic, they don't do well with comedy and jokes, yet they are polite (for the most part) and open minded.
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
ʚ♡ɞ Unique Magic: [Justice Aveugle] (盲目的な正義/Mōmokutekina seigi)
With his blade, Noriko can disable the use of a specific limb by magically severing it. It's painful but it's temporary, no limb is truly lost.
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
ʚ【 ♛ 】ɞ Mistress Alliette's Thoughts on them
“Nori is a most devoted man, and in my opinion, I'd say they're the most proficient when it comes to doing their job. However, at the same time, I worry for them — as they seem to prioritize my needs over their own... Hm? Why do I call them ‘Nori’?.... That's none of your concern.”
— Mistress Alliette
ʚ♡ɞ Their thoughts on Mistress Alliette and fellow Arcana
“She's my master and i am loyal to her, i serve justice with her judgment. Mistress Alliette comes first for me, i will protect and defend her. No matter what who she stands against. Even if it means turning a blind eye to her faults.”
— Mistress Alliette
“She is- Chaotic, i don't understand her, she seems to be enjoying my...Misery. Strange but talented at what she does, as long as she's loyal to our mistress i don't care.”
— Elara, The Moon
“If it wasn't for my lady I wouldn't even stand in the same room as him. That man is a headache. He thinks he's being funny but he's not even a real person. Pathetic.”
— Haruka, The Sun
“... An oddity.”
— El, The Fool
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
ʚ♡ɞ — Additional Trivia!
— Recognizes Lilia VanRouge from the war, doesn't say anything but the disdain towards Prince Malleus Draconia and General Lilia VanRouge is there.
— Being a knight they have fought, got scars. Most of them are on their back, defending fellow knights.
— Gladly takes up any offer to spar with others but they won't go easy on any of them...Unless it's his mistress much to her displeasure.
— If Noriko was in Night Raven, he'd be in Heartslabyul dorm. (AU)
— Enjoys the snow, it was rare in his homeland, such a different scenery compared to the springs...
— Noriko's birthday is January 1st, making them a capricorn.
�� Main Theme: Take me to church - Hozier
✑ Backstory: 『 Knight of Roses 』 (SOON)
꒷꒦꒷꒦•°•═════ஓ๑†๑ஓ═════•°•꒷꒦꒷꒦
#HERE WE GOO#THEY ARE ABOUT TO BE REAL#Heartslabyul version is the one I'll use for interactions etc!!!#Twisted wonderland#Twisted wonderland oc#Twst oc#Noriko Dolion#⚖️ - Disgraced Knight#etteilla twst#「 etteilla ♢」#etteilla oc#My art#Oc bios
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evil astrid au excerpt thing
i can't remember when this diverges from the series--i think in lies, probably. i didn't think this out too much tbh. just go with the flow i guess. i'd really appreciate feedback, but please be gentle!
Astrid made lists. She sent a rotation of kids—trustworthy ones, the younger set, ages twelve to ten—to take polls, surveys, suggestions. What needs doing? What do you want? At first she wanted to do it herself, but then after righting things (that’s how she thought of it, righting, like straightening a crooked picture frame), she realized how naïve that was. She didn’t have time to meet kids on the street and make small talk and try to convince them to care about things outside their immediate purview; she’d done that regularly for Sam and look how that turned out. Astrid was a leader now, not playing second fiddle to anyone. She had to act like it. She had to be an authority.
It took hard work to right things. Sam hadn’t wanted to give up his position. He told her again and again that he wasn’t going to budge. Astrid tried to reason with him. For months she dropped hints. Then she discussed it at length with him, going over the same talking points, trying to be patient. As time wore on, she grew frustrated.
Words wouldn’t sway him. Evoking the concept of democracy, of building some sort of parliament or council, made him hesitate, but he didn’t trust the public. Astrid didn’t blame him—she didn’t either. But it seemed the only thing Sam really responded to was violence—working with his hands, those unnatural Day-Glo green lasers about which she was increasingly concerned. If she used force, she’d have to consider the chance that he’d use them against her or any allies she might gain.
It wouldn’t come to that, she told herself. She bit her fingernails down to the quicks telling herself that. She cozied up to Sam over the course of the next few weeks, hoping that even when she usurped him, he’d remember how loving she could be. He’d remember her generosity—she let him feel her up, after all, even though the crucifix on her necklace felt punishingly cold against her breastbone every time. He’d remember how good and pliant a girlfriend she was, and soon, from a safe distance, he’d realize how much better a leader she was, too.
She was right—Sam didn’t hurt her. She still closed her eyes and saw Orc’s agape mouth, his look of dumb disbelief at seeing the clean, cauterized stump. The howl he made. The look on Sam’s face, cheesy and ill. Orc rushed at him in a blind rage, and Astrid ran at him, shouting, grabbing at him. “We’ll fix it/I’ll fix it” is what she babbled. Orc looked at his stump. After a minute, tears leaked from his eyes. His mouth was open like a child’s.
Sam went quietly after that. After he was safely locked away, Astrid sent Orc to Lana.
She went to the church, sat in the pew closest to the pulpit, and prayed. She prayed for Sam to learn humility, to tame his anger and killing light. She prayed for Lana to heal Orc as best she could and send him back to her without any resentment. She prayed for God to forgive her for being treacherous and deceitful to someone she supposedly loved. Lastly, she prayed for herself, that she may have the strength to do what she knew was right.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the fallen cross lying on the floor by the pulpit. It struck her again, the wrongness of the image. That’s the first thing I’ll have to fix, she thought with a frown. The very first thing.
Astrid returned to the town hall. In one of the adjacent rooms, Little Pete sat on a leather couch. She pulled him close and stroked his hair. That night, when all she could see when she closed her eyes was Sam burning Orc’s arm to nothing, she laced her hands tightly together and prayed again. Please, Lord, forgive me. Let me sleep tonight. I still have so much good to do.
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Day 27 - Djinn Dream [AU]
[AO3]
Robert Gadling, by far, is the oddest person Dream has dealt with in his many eons of ― granting wishes. Usually there’s wishes of wealth, of power or true love, or a grand castle ― but so far, Hob’s only used up one wish for one of his knives to be sharpened, otherwise being ― okay, with having Dream trail behind him in the forest they’re in, chattering all the way.
“You are a very odd human,” Dream says, and Hob laughs brightly, birds flying away at the sound. “Are you sure you want to be here?”
“I’m sure,” Hob says, grin bright as they walk into a clearing with a small house in the middle of it, vines growing up it’s walls as Hob gestures to the house, “welcome to my humble abode ― one of them anyway,” Hob says as they enter it, and Dream tilts his head as he watches Hob light the fireplace, then pulling Dream over to the bed, and Dream certainly wouldn’t be opposed to doing that with Hob, considering how attractive he is, but Hob only holds his hands. “Dream, my ― friend,” Hob says and he blinks. “I get the feeling this isn’t what you planned, being this.”
“Yes,” he says, confused, refusing to feel hope at what Hob’s implying, “it was ― I was not, am not, a kind being, before. This was a punishment,” he whispers.
“I figured. That lamp isn't your colour,” Hob says, gesturing with his head to the rucksack holding Dream’s white-and-blue prison, and Dream bites down an ugly laugh. “If I wanted to free you, I imagine it wouldn’t be as simple as wishing it, then.”
Dream opens and shuts his mouth, finding no ― ulterior motives, or deceit in Hob’s face, and he quashes more hope, “it would not be that easy,” he offers, voice dry as he licks his lips, “it would ― I, Hob. It would be easier, for you to get your wishes over with,” he says desperately.
“I don’t care. I want to free you,” Hob squeezes his hands, and Dream looks down at them in wonder, feeling how warm and rough they are.
“But Hob,” Dream says, staring down at the other’s scarred hands instead of kind brown eyes, “it would be an intimate ritual, to move the binding from the lamp to you, from which you can free me.”
“Intimate? Like sex intimate?” Hob asks, not ― horrified, or disgusted, and Dream looks up in shock. “Hell yeah. Let’s free you!” Hob’s grin is blinding, and Dream is speechless, “do we have to like, set stuff up though? What do I have to say?”
“The―it could kill you, Hob,” he says desperately, a last-ditch attempt to stop this madness, squeezing his eyes shut as Hob leans in with a secret smile, a hand touching his cheek, and Dream resists the urge to nuzzle into it.
“I have a secret,” Hob breathes, “I won a wager against Death once, about 200 years ago. I can’t die,” Dream freezes, staring at Hob in amazement. “Now ― ritual?”
Dream gapes, free hand magicking up candles and finer sheets for the bed, a dark black. Holding Hob’s hand in his, he magicks on the tattoo needed onto their hands, a copy of the lamp’s decoration as it poofs out of the sack and floats in the air, “these are all we need while we copulate,” Hob sniggers and Dream gives him a glance, sighing deeply, “have sex. Just think about freeing me, and the lamp will break.”
“Easy enough,” Hob whispers, tattoo glowing as Hob moves to kiss him softly, hands going under his black clothes, pleasure sizzling and burning as the lamp starts to glow and break in return, and Dream can only hold on as soft, reverent kisses, as hands rub his leaking cock, as gentle fingers reach inside him, the pleasure overwhelming as Hob praises him softly.
Dream gasps into Hob’s neck, his hands in soft brown-grey hair as Hob enters him, the light from the breaking lamp, from their hands, and there’s an explosion of light, of ceramic as he comes with a shout, and Dream’s amazed to see the lamp in pieces on the floor as Hob kisses his neck, dick pressing against his prostate. It only takes a few more passes until Hob comes with a stuttered Dream.
#dc#the sandman#dreamling#dreamling fanfic#smuly 2023#dreamling smuly#dream x hob#hob x dream#hob x morpheus#writing#not sfw#dunno how i got carried away with this but like. sure. why not
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So I just remembered when my friend started writing a Magnus Archives AU for our D&D game she made a little crash course on the fears to help us understand her madness since only 2 of people have watched it. I have not but here is the little guide to the entities to help other people enjoy the crossover.
The Entities (The Magnus Archives Lore)
In the world of The Magnus Archives, fear is the source of all supernatural occurrences, and all stem from one source: the Entities. Also known as the Dread Powers, sometimes believed to be gods, the Entities are fear made manifest, each representing a different aspect of fear. The Entities exist next to the known universe, outside but are no less connected to reality as we understand it. Wherever the supernatural is found, it is by an Entity’s will, each vying to bring its fear into the world- for the more, the world fears an Entity, the more powerful it becomes.
The Buried
Also known As… The Centre, Choke, Too Close I Cannot Breathe
The Fear of… being trapped, buried alive, drawing
Manifestations: caves, coffins, financial issues, underground transportation
The Corruption
Also known As… Filth, Hive, The Crawling Rot
The Fear of… Insects, decay, disease; the feeling of revulsion and that which causes it
Manifestations: Mold, bugs, the feeling of something crawling under your skin; unhealthy love and relationships
The Dark
Also known As… Mr. Pitch, Forever Blind
The Fear of… Darkness, the unknown, dangers hiding from view
Manifestations: Shadow figures/monsters, darkness, coldness, dark waters
The Desolation
Also known As… The Lightless Flame, The Ravening Burn, Asag
The Fear of… Pain, loss, and destruction- especially with senseless cause
Manifestations: Fire, heat, burns
The End
Also known As… Death, The Coming End That Waits For All And Cannot Be Ignored
The Fear of… Uncaring, unstoppable death; that all things will end eventually
Manifestations: Bones, the undead (zombies, mummies, skeletons, etc.), sometimes manifests in dreams
The Eye
Also known As… Beholding, Ceaseless Watcher, It Knows You
The Fear of… Being watched, followed, and having your secrets exposed; also pertains to the desire to know, even if what you learn might destroy you.
Manifestations: Eyes, cameras, a creature or figure that constantly watches
The Flesh
Also known As… Viscera
The Fear of… being little more than animated meat, (from animals) being born and raised to be eaten
Manifestations: Meat, corpses, body horror (twisted, strange bodies), butchers
The Hunt
Also known As… Everchase
The Fear of… being prey; being hunted
Manifestations: Predators, predatory monsters, animalistic traits
The Lonely
Also known As… Forsaken, The One Alone
The Fear of… Isolation, abandonment; being cut off from others
Manifestations: Fog, silence, empty rooms, crowds of faceless people
The Slaughter
Also known As… N/A
The Fear of… Unpredictable, unmotivated violence; pain coming at random, without rhyme or reason
Manifestations: Soldiers, murderers, music that either induces Slaughter or heralds its coming
The Spiral
Also known As… Es Mentiras (It Lies), It Is Not What It Is, The Twisting Deceit
The Fear of… madness, that the world you know is wrong; deception, lying
Manifestations: Spirals, fractals, and patterns; hallucinations and illusions
The Stranger
Also known As… I Do Not Know You
The Fear of… Others, the uncanny, the unfamiliar; the creeping sense that something is wrong
Manifestations: Things that provoke the “uncanny valley” feeling: mannequins, wax figures, and taxidermy; often seen in theaters and performances
The Vast
Also known As… The Falling Titan
The Fear of… heights, falling, large open spaces; being insignificant or meaningless
Manifestations: Void, wide-open spaces, vertigo, falling; something that should have an end becoming infinite
The Web
Also known As… The Spider, Mother of Puppets, The Hidden Machination, The Spinner of Schemes
The Fear of… Being controlled or trapped, especially being unaware of your entrapment; of being forced to act against your own will, being manipulated; spiders
Manifestations: Spiders, spider webs, web-like patterns, puppets
Avatars
Empowered by, and sometimes made of the power of an Entity, Avatars serve as vessels of fear in the world. Some are malevolent, some are just scary, but all are extremely dangerous.
^^^^^^^
This is a general overview, extra details will be given by the people you'll find!
Also the Exctinction isn't in this list probably because it was actually discovered very late into the series and this might have been written by @botanicalbard s friend before it's existance was confirmed.
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slow dancing ● chapter xi
➬ Title | Slow Dancing: a mini series
➬ Summary | When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.
↳ Pairings | Jungkook x reader / Namjoon x reader
↳ Genre | Soulmate!au, Second Chances!au, Angst, Eventual Smut
➥ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; jealousy, Jungkook being possessive, a brief talk of past (near) infidelity, sexual tension, swearing, explicit sexual scene—including: lots of kissing and making out, makeup sex, rough sex, dirty talk, manhandling (sort of), praises, fingering, clit play/stimulation, thigh riding, breast play, nipple biting, teasing, edging, biting, body worship, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms
➥ Word count | 9,5k words
➥ Chapter List | Glossary | ⤎ Previous Chapter | Epilogue ⇢
➥ Masterlist
chapter xi. slow dancing (back to you) - final
Being back home has already made a lot of difference.
The familiarity welcoming you back the moment you walked through the front door this afternoon no longer made you feel unsettled the way it did the day you left. Seeing all the mementoes from the life that you have built together with Jungkook and all traces of his presence everywhere you look no longer break you apart. In fact, they seem to breathe a new life into your soul that you had begun healing and gaining your strength back the moment you came back.
Perhaps Namjoon had been right when he said that the soulmate bond had kept you from seeing them for what they had truly meant for you. That the pull had blinded you and it had kept forcing you to only see Namjoon and feel his presence the more you insisted to fight against it.
Now that you have your eyes opened and your mind cleared out of the deceitful fog, you begin to feel hope resounding in your chest once again, and the faith that you have had in your love for Jungkook has been growing stronger since.
Though it doesn’t immediately make things better when you still have no clue what to do.
Hours had passed since you got back. You have tossed away the bag filled with all the things that you had brought back from Namjoon’s place and have packed up a new one, filling it with fresh clothes and limited items that you may need on your next trip. It didn’t take long before you were packed and all ready to leave. And you have been ready for hours. But here you are now, still pacing back and forth in your living room, waiting, with not the slightest idea of what you are still waiting for. The relief that you had gotten from finding out where Jungkook currently is and knowing that he is doing okay is beginning to fade when your nerves keep spiking during the wait. While the hope that you had nurtured when you were promised a way to find him seems to wane when the hopelessness rises in its place.
“Wait for my call,” was the last thing that Jungkook’s brother had sent you after you had let him know that you were back home and that you were going to try and find Jungkook in Jeju. It had been hours ago since you received his last text, and there had been no news coming from him since.
“Where is he?” you mutter to yourself after glancing on your phone for the umpteenth time, only finding the texts that you have been sending out to him for the past hour looking back at you, all left unread and still with no response.
Outside, the sky has grown darker as the day passes by, and you have grown too restless to sit still. It is hard to stay calm when you have come so close to making things right, and yet you are met with an invisible wall getting in the way and nothing but radio silence in return for your calls for help. To make things worse, Jungkook’s phone is still turned off, and you have no idea how to reach out to him to confirm if he is still where he was supposed to be.
By the time nightfall slowly arises, paranoia has completely taken over your mind, leaving you wondering and questioning—
Is there something wrong? Did something bad happen? Is Jungkook okay? Or have they lost track of him again?
The more you wait, the more your worries take a front seat, replacing all the logical thoughts that you may still have, and you decide that you cannot wait any longer. With your phone clutched in hand, you start collecting the rest of your things, shoving them into your bag before rushing to grab your coat. You don’t even bother to take another look at your phone as you make your way to the front door, determined to find your way to leave the city and do all you can to find Jungkook on your own.
The moment you open the front door, however, a shadow comes to your path, blocking you from going further.
Realising that someone is currently standing in your path, you immediately stop in your tracks and look up to see who is trying to get in your way. But then your heart immediately plummets to your stomach the moment you find your answers and before you could even start cussing at them to get out of your way. Because standing right in front of you is the object of your dreams and your restless nights, with his hand tucked inside his pocket as if he is trying to search for something—his keys, maybe—while the other has a tight grip on his bag. The same bag that he had with him the day he was gone.
The moment you see his face, your words simply fail you. It feels as if you are dreaming to see Jungkook standing right before you, wearing an expression on his face which seems unfathomable as he keeps looking at you. It is quite obvious that he had not been expecting to bump into you right when he had just arrived back home, though you have no idea what to feel about the expression that he is giving you now as he continues to stare at you silently.
Had he not been expecting you to be home, waiting for him? Has he given up on you?
Was he hoping that you were gone?
Soon enough, as you continue to stand there while staring at each other, energy begins to crackle in the air between you, but neither of you makes a move. As if a part of you is afraid that you might break this moment, or that he would somehow vanish from your line of sight and you would be left with disappointment for finding out that he is nothing more but a figment of your imagination.
Taking a deep breath, you finally find the courage to speak. Your voice comes out small and unsure as his name slips out of your lips. “Jungkook—?”
Just like that, your voice seems to break the still air hanging between you and Jungkook reacts with a short gasp, as if he is just having a hard time as you are in believing that you are truly there. Blinking his eyes rapidly, Jungkook slowly finds his composure before he finally whispers your name, sending soft flutters inside your chest when you can finally hear his voice once again,
“______.”
Jungkook had no idea what to expect when he was heading home.
He didn’t have much hope of finding you there waiting for him, and yet there you were, opening the door for him even before he had any chance to knock and suddenly appearing right before his eyes just like a vivid dream suddenly coming true.
During his trip back to Seoul, he had kept opening and scrolling down the mementoes that he had saved on his phone—the photos that he had taken of you while he was spending his time with you, the videos that he had taken either when you were left on your own while still captivating him with your antics or when you were together with him—and they had all become his companion while he was away. He kept on replaying them all just so he could see your smile and hear your voice, using them as a temporary remedy to the misery he was feeling for being apart from you.
He had also spent the long intense hour of his trip home from the airport reading through the notes, the emails, and all of the text messages that you had ever sent him. And then he got lost through the memory lane when he opened the love letters that you had sent him through his emails while you were away in New York. Through those letters, you had professed your love with sweet, caring words. He went through each letter, each one reminding him of how special the life that he had with you had been, and he had been reciting the pretty words to himself since, long after his phone had completely run out of battery and died on him before he managed to reach home.
It was the reason why he had been so distracted as he rushed to reach the apartment. The frustration that he had felt for not being able to contact either you or his brother to let everyone know that he was coming home was taking over him that he barely paid attention between pulling his keys out and reaching for the door, leaving him completely caught off guard when you suddenly stepped out of the doorway.
Except that his shock for seeing you had turned into confusion when he noticed that you didn’t seem to be expecting him to show up at the front door. Judging from the way your eyes had widened at the sight of him and from the way you were dressed as if you are about to step out, it seemed obvious to him that you have had other plans than to wait out for him to arrive back home.
You fall a step backwards, staggering in your shock after hearing his voice calling your name, and that is when he finally notices the overnight bag you are carrying in your hand. His heart drops and almost ceases in his chest when all the possible scenarios of why you would be getting ready to leave start flashing through his mind.
“You’re leaving?” he asks you with a strained voice. Pain lathered his words at the thought of you slipping away from him and to think that if he had been a few minutes too late, then his return would have been pointless as you might have slipped away from his life by then.
Has it really been too late for him?
“I was—” you begin to speak, breaking through Jungkook’s thoughts before he manages the start questioning things further, though it seems to take a lot of effort when you had barely gotten out of your own shock. “I was going to find you. I was supposed to—” you try again, looking up into his eyes when he falls silent. You must have realised that he is still having trouble understanding your words, still believing that you are going to say something else.
Something like confirming his worries that you were actually leaving him for good.
Because then a small, yet reassuring smile appears on your face, right before you finally start telling him, “I heard that you were in Jeju. I was going to catch a flight there and try to find you.”
Jungkook blinks. Once. Twice. Not sure if he is actually dreaming or if he is hearing things right. Though he soon realises that you had meant every word you said when he sees the look in your eyes. “You were coming to get me?” he asks with a gasp, his eyes looking back and forth between the offensive bag in your hand and then finding your face again. An incredulous laugh slips out of him once reality sinks in and he feels relieved to know that his fears had not come true. “Then I’m glad that I had caught you before you left, because then we’ll only miss each other.”
To his relief, his words seem to break the tension hanging in the air. It isn’t until the moment you finally laugh at his joke and look more at ease when he can finally breathe easier and all the agitation that he has felt is slowly lifted from his shoulders.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you mutter softly once the laughter stops, your soft voice drawing a smile to his face when he can feel nothing else but honesty and hope to come from you.
“I am here. I’m back,” he says, before smirking teasingly at you. “Well, almost. It might be best if we talk inside rather than have me standing out here where people could see,” he playfully adds while dramatically looking back and forth down the hallway, signifying that the encounter might have attracted any of the nosy neighbours.
“Oh, right. I’m so sorry,” you immediately say to him while quickly stepping back inside and allowing him to enter the apartment. He closes the door gently behind him, never once taking his eyes away from you even as he places his bags down, having the fear that you would suddenly change your mind and run away. While you are moving in such haste, tossing your bag away and nervously turning to him to speak, “Jungkook, I—”
Before you could even start explaining yourself, Jungkook stops you by raising his hand and stepping closer. “Let me talk first,” he gently says, still smiling at you even when his chest feels tight with guilt and insecurities. “I need to get this out of my chest before I explode. I’ve been thinking about what I’m supposed to say to you during my flight back home and I know I might lose everything if I don’t say them out loud soon.”
Jungkook waits patiently for your answer while you seem to hold back from talking. But then you slowly nod your head. “Okay,” you finally say to him, and that simple permission opens up everything that Jungkook has kept bottled up inside.
“I was an idiot,” he says, almost rushing his words. “It was stupid of me to think that stepping away would be the answer. I had thought that I would be robbing you of the chance of experiencing something that we had once wanted in the past, something that we both lost.”
Jungkook stops, biting his lips as he gauges your reaction when you say nothing at all, taking everything in. Looking into your eyes, Jungkook slowly breathes out before laying everything out for you, showing his bare emotions to you for the first time ever since the night everything fell apart. “But, to be honest, I was also scared. I guess the thought of us fighting against the universe and losing our fight had gotten over my head somehow and I was—afraid. Terrified, was more like it, and I was afraid that it would only ruin our souls, ruin us, and everything that we had. I know now that I was wrong to think that way and I was so wrong to walk away without giving you the chance to make a choice to fight for us.”
“You were. A massive idiot,” you respond to him softly once he is done talking as you clench your fists to hold back from reaching out to him. “You should’ve put more trust in us. I thought you believed in us.”
“I did. I did believe in us and I was an idiot to overlook it,” he admits with a sigh. “But knowing that we were fighting against some kind of force that was beyond everything that we had truly terrified me.” He stops with a scoff before laughing bitterly at himself. “But then someone helped me open my eyes to see that I was wrong. That I shouldn’t have given up the fight before even trying, and it was awful of me to take that choice from you by letting you go.”
There is something in your eyes that makes Jungkook’s breath stop. He cannot even explain it, but there is something in the way you are closing your eyes as you listen to his admissions that draws out his insecurities. Dread comes through his chest when you finally open your eyes again to confirm his fears. “You’re not the only one who was stupid enough to make a mistake,” you start telling him with a small voice, and his chest grows tight, having known where this seems to be leading to. “I did things—when you were gone,” you continue your confession with your hands clenched tightly together in front of you. He can see the presence of your remorse when you look up at him, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you whisper painfully, “I’m so sorry.”
Jungkook swallows hard. He had already suspected that things would have turned to the worst the moment he was out of the picture. Even before he had the talk with Tasha about the consequences of leaving a pair of soulmates together on their own, he had already expected that things would have gotten sour. He just didn’t expect that it would hurt this much to find out that something had actually happened in his absence. To make matters worse, without knowing just how far things had gotten between you and Namjoon, his imagination starts running wild.
Closing his eyes, he forces those images away, and he waits until the pain begins to subside before looking at you tenderly. “No, I’m the one who should be apologising. I was the one who put you in that position,” he begins to speak, having the intention to tell you that he is ready to face everything with you. That he had prepared himself for it. But then you quickly stop him before he can say more.
“No, you don’t understand,” you rush to tell him, before you start spilling everything to him. Jungkook listens quietly as you reveal to him what had happened after he had left. How you had found your way to Namjoon’s home, how you had blamed your soulmate for causing Jungkook’s departure and for how your life had seemed to be falling apart because he suddenly came into the picture after you had accepted the fact that he would never become a part of your life. Then you continue to let him know how you had found your way back to Namjoon after you tried to leave, how the soulmate bond had kept pulling you together in Jungkook’s absence, and how you had given in.
Jungkook takes a long, deep breath as he feels his heart shattering into pieces when you slowly, painfully, in your soft, broken voice, begin to admit what had happened on the last night you were together with your soulmate. How you had failed to fight the pull and had ended up in Namjoon’s arms.
“I tried, Jungkook. I tried and tried, but in the end, I couldn’t fight it. Neither of us could. I suppose you were right, the force had been too strong for me to fight against it and I finally failed. I shouldn’t have come into his room that night, knowing what I know now, knowing what happened—” your voice keeps fading in and out of his head as you are telling him this, but Jungkook forces himself to listen. He has to. He owes it to himself and to you, knowing that keeping this as a secret would only hurt you further and risk everything he is trying to mend.
“—I shouldn’t have kissed him or let him kiss me. I should’ve pushed him away. I wasn’t in my right mind when it happened, because the next thing I knew, I was with him, holding him, and we were—” The sob slipping out of your throat in your guilt stops you from telling him all the details, but Jungkook doesn’t even care to listen more.
He reminds himself that he was ready for this. That he had prepared to face to worst and deal with all the consequences just as long as he can be together with you again. The past conversation that he had with Tasha before he left her home comes rushing back into his head. It was Tasha who had first warned him about what the soulmate bond might try to pull when it comes between you and Namjoon, what it would do to make sure that you would feel the bond and accept it as a part of you. He had thought that he had known everything, until the moment Tasha told him all the things that had transpired between her and her soulmate when they had ended up spending time together to feel the bond. It was hard to listen to her story, but coming here knowing what the bond could do had been the reason why he has had his heart and mind made up to do all that he must to win you back.
Even if he has to accept the possibility that you had slept with his good friend in the middle of the whole ordeal.
He falls silent for a moment longer, taking the time to strengthen his resolve while the sound of your soft cries and whispers of apologies keep coming out of your lips, replacing the silence that has occupied the room. He can feel you slowly retreating from him and gently pulling away in your remorse, which would be the last thing that he has ever wanted to happen. Pushing through the pain in his chest, Jungkook reaches out to hold your hands in his, forcing you to look at him through your tears.
“Actually, I do understand. And it’s okay. As long as you tell me that you’re not about to leave me and go back to him,” he says while forcing a smile, just to ease the tension and perhaps soothe you a little from whatever guilt you are carrying. “You don’t have to tell me anything else about what had happened between you—” he says, stopping for a moment with a sharp intake of breath. “Whatever happened, it’s okay. I’d understand. It might take a while for me to get over it, but I won’t blame you for anything.”
You look up to him with a frown. Even if your tears of guilt have died down, his words seem to take a bit longer to sink in. But then your eyes grow wide when you finally understand what he is trying to say to you. “That wasn’t—” you gasp at him, clutching on his hands tighter. “I didn’t sleep with him,” you quickly admit to him, much to his surprise, and relief. Though your eyes dim with more regret soon after. “But we still did things. Horrible things that I wasn’t supposed to. Oh, God. I’m a horrible person. I—”
Seeing you breaking down again, Jungkook instinctively reacts by pulling you to him and pressing his lips briefly on yours to stop you from talking. The kiss is short, much too short for his liking, but it is enough to put you into a shock that you fall silent. “We’ll get through it. Together,” he whispers to you as he brushes his fingers gently across your cheek. “I mean, you are staying, right? You’re not leaving me? Or was I too late?”
With a scoff, you playfully push at his shoulder. “No, idiot. I told you, I was about to catch a flight to Jeju and find you. I was so ready to drag your ass back here before either your brother or Namjoon would do it. I know that they won’t be doing it gently if it had been them to take that flight,” you tell him before releasing a deep sigh. “I was already planning a scenario where I’d be begging you on my knees for forgiveness before dragging you back home, though.”
A smile slowly grows on his face when his chest feels warm, knowing that you were ready to fight for him just as much as he was ready to do the same. “You were actually coming for me?”
With a small smile, you lean even closer to him. “I spent an entire week trying to figure out where you were,” you confess to him softly. “I thought that I had lost you for good. I was so scared.”
Hearing this, his guilt digs deeper and he takes you in his arms, embracing you in his warmth until you relax against his chest. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere,” he keeps whispering to you. “You are the only one I love. And I don’t care if the universe thinks you deserve to be with someone else, I’m going to fight with everything I have to be with you. Soulmate or not.”
You push away from him after hearing what he just said. “No, that’s not true,” you quickly say to him while looking into his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It has always been you.”
The moment you say those words out loud, you quickly realise that this is true. That no matter what life keeps throwing at you, no matter whose name is written on your skin, he would forever be the one that your soul will be seeking and his presence would always be the reason for you to go on.
Leaning into his embrace, you look up to see his face. Seeing him at the door earlier had felt like magic. After the days where you were tormented by the universe, after feeling like fate had not been on your side, having him back had seemed as if your prayers were finally heard and it had been the reason why it seemed so hard for you to get over the shock from his sudden return.
Not only that he had found his way back to you right as you were determined to get him back, but he was also saying all the right words, telling you everything that you had always wanted to hear. Hearing him saying the exact same words that you have been thinking of out loud seemed surreal, and at first, you had no idea how to make of it. Then you found the courage to reveal what had happened with Namjoon, even if you haven’t gotten through the details, and yet he is still here, holding you tight instead of running away, making you feel like everything is slowly falling into place.
“I’m not going to lie. I can still feel myself being pulled to him. The thread will always be there, tethering me to him, if that makes sense?” you slowly add, admitting that you can still feel the bond simmering inside you. It feels faint, but it is still there, reminding you that you are still somehow tethered to Namjoon and that you can still feel his presence in the distance. Though now that you are here with Jungkook again, feeling his arms around you and your heart beating for him, you can finally tell the difference. And you explain to him exactly that. “But it’s not the same. It will never be. Because I love you, and I know that what we have is real.”
“And I love you too,” Jungkook answers softly with a hesitant smile. “Would that be enough?”
You return his smile with your own when you convince him softly, “It is more than enough for me.”
Hearing the conviction in your words, Jungkook’s smile widens. “Then it would be more than enough for me too.”
“The universe will always be against us,” you warn him gently, reminding him that this is just the beginning of your journey together. To your surprise, Jungkook only responds with a soft chuckle.
“The universe has always done a shit job with our lives so far anyway,” he says, making you laugh.
“Then I guess it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he says while taking your hand gently, his fingers brushing on your engagement ring once he notices that you have been wearing it. That you are still wearing it. A gentle sigh escapes you when his touch sends a delicate shiver down your body, making your heart beat faster just as he adds, “And it shouldn’t. Not if you want this.”
“I want this. More than anything. I want you.” You reach up to him, placing your palm on his cheek. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply when he feels the cold touch of your engagement ring against his skin, as if he is basking in its presence while revelling in your touch. He blinks his eyes open as he leans further into your palm, looking into your eyes when you ask him, “So…where do we go from here?”
“We go forward,” he says. “Together.” He pulls you further into his chest as he says this, before lowering his face and whispers, “Every step of the way.”
“I like the sound of that,” you whisper to him in return, just as his mouth comes pressing on yours. He begins kissing you gently, each brush of his lips wipes away every hint of worry and doubt that you have left until you feel nothing more but the warmth sense of hope fluttering in your chest. Only then when you finally give in, returning each of his kisses with your own. Jungkook begins to kiss you harder, deepening the kiss with his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you pressed against him.
Right then, as you are connected to him in the deep kiss, with your mouth melting against one another and your fingers reaching up to tangle themselves between the strands of his hair, you instantly feel like you are home, as if you are once again whole.
As if he feels the change happening in you, he tugs you to his chest, then spins around with you still locked in his embrace and your mouths locked with each other as he walks you backwards until you reach the living room. His hands slip around your waist as he gently brings you down on the sofa, breaking the kiss briefly as he straightens back up to peel away his coat and yours.
You are both still fully clothed when he lays you back down, so you think nothing of it when he suddenly stops. Until you look up to meet his eyes, seeing the compassion mixing with raw hunger emitting from his gaze that still doesn’t fade as he slowly takes off your shoes, pulling them one and a time. Without looking away, he kicks off his own shoes, while your body shudders in anticipation as you continue to watch him, taking every move he makes and the expression that he is showing on his face. The tension in the room seems to rise when he slowly moves, prowling towards you as if approaching his prey when he slowly climbs onto the sofa and hovers on top of you.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers as his palm flattens on one of your cheeks. With his eyes locked on yours, Jungkook moves his other hand down, his palm brushing down the curves of your body before resting right beneath your thigh. He moves slowly to part your legs for him, the heat of his touch burns right through your pants and all the way down to your skin that you feel almost bare, allowing you to give in to him. “I couldn’t stop thinking of you even while I was away.”
As he takes his place between your parted legs, he lowers himself on top of you, blanketing you with his hard body. His hands feel stiff as they slide down to your hips. His claiming grip sends your heartbeat racing while he is anchoring you right beneath him, and in this position, you can feel everything. Releasing a sigh, he leans down, lowering his head to your shoulder. His warm breath falls on your neck, followed by his soft lips. The moment you melt against him, you can feel his arousal lining up against your covered center, and your entire body pulses with your desire coming to life.
His breath stutters as he presses a kiss right beneath your ear, and he pulls back only slightly, his eyes move to find your face before he crashes his mouth into yours. His touch on your body softens as he begins kissing you, devouring you with a mixture of love and desire and desperation overflowing through each kiss. His fingers begin trailing gentle caresses down your body while he continues his delicious assault on your lips.
As your need for him rises higher, you begin to feel frustrated, hating how there is too much fabric coming between you to prevent you from feeling his hot skin and gentle touch. As if he feels the same way, his sinful fingers slip right under the hem of your shirt, invading through the barriers.
It takes only one gentle touch coming from the tip of his fingers on your skin, and the reaction he ignites within you comes almost instantaneously. It starts with gentle flutters, butterflies swarming in your stomach and sparks rising in your chest. Then you lean into him more, opening yourself to let him deepen the kiss, and the moment he slides right in with his tongue taking over your mouth, heat comes flooding through your veins, burning every last bit of despair that is still clinging unmercifully onto your nerves.
Jungkook is still breathless when he breaks away from the kiss, though his deep gaze has yet to dim. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone and your breath is instantly caught, all while you are lost in his eyes, mesmerised with the way he is looking at you. “How tired are you?” he murmurs softly, so soft that he almost hums his words in a soothing tune.
“I should be the one asking you about that. You were the one who had just gotten off of a plane,” you answer him with a pout, yet you make no move to push him away. Instead, you clutch tighter onto his shirt, almost too afraid to let him go. You prop yourself on your elbows and lean up, desperate to feel those delicious lips of his against yours again, and Jungkook is more than pleased to give you what you want, when he leans back down with a smile on his face before he so willingly presses his lips back on yours. You love how he immediately takes charge, when his fingers come to your chin, tilting your face up so he can deepen the kiss. He sweeps his tongue in to tangle it with yours for a quick second before going back to all lips, before slowly coming to a stop so he can speak to you.
“I’m asking because maybe we can take this back to the bedroom,” he says, his voice sounding almost breathless. Though you cannot even blame him for it when your chest is also rising and falling just as intensely as his. “I am utterly exhausted, and I want nothing more than to lie down beside you and hold you tightly in my arms.”
“Then go ahead and take me to the bedroom,” you murmur to him while you trail your lips across his jawline, teasing him with your kisses. “I want nothing more but to fall asleep in your arms. Right where I meant to be.”
A deep growl comes out of his throat when Jungkook reluctantly pulls away, stepping off the sofa. Your body immediately feels cold without him, though he is quick to remedy the loss of his touch when he picks you up, lifting you up in his arms and hastily, with clumsy footsteps, begins carrying you down the hall towards the bedroom. You are pleased that in your rush to leave, you had left the bedroom door open that he has no problem veering straight into the room without kicking his way in. From the wild look that you see coming out of his eyes, you have no doubt that he would do just that, just to be able to get you right where he wants you to.
A giggle slips out of you when he puts you down, his hands lingering on your waist for a short while to help you stand on your steady foot before he pulls away. He remains standing close to you right at the center of the room, his hands reaching between his shoulder blades as he peels off his shirt. For the next few passing seconds, you simply stare at him, unabashedly taking in his strong arms that you have always admired the most, how his muscles are strained in his movements, making it seem like the beautiful artwork adorning his skin is dancing along with each move.
Your eyes trail down his firm pecs and abs as his shirt slowly leaves his skin, then keep trailing down to the waistband of his jeans. Flashing you a wicked, yet captivating smile, Jungkook leans down when he notices you staring and kisses you. His lips move with yours and the dizziness sets in when he kisses his way down your neck. His hands move down to your waist, tugging at your shirt.
You can feel his eagerness in the way he is touching you, the kind of feeling that you share as you are growing impatient in your need to touch him. And yet the moment he starts pulling at the hem of your shirt, ready to peel it off of your skin, your body instantly flinches, when the memory of another touch suddenly comes crashing into your head.
Sensing your reaction, Jungkook stops and looks closely at your face. “What’s wrong?”
You close your eyes tightly when you are reminded of another set of hands pulling at your shirt the way he did, bringing you back to the night when you had completely crossed the line. The guilt becomes too much to handle as you think back about that night that it muddles your mind and you instinctively pull back from him. Only that he has a tight hold on you this time to stop it from happening.
With his fingers on your chin, Jungkook tilts your head up, making you look back at him. “Stop thinking. Don’t go back in there,” he whispers, knowing just where your mind seems to be wandering off to.
“I can’t,” you whisper to him with a broken voice. “I know that you didn’t want to hear the detail of what happened, but I feel like you should, so you would know how bad I’ve fucked up.”
“Baby—”
“You’re probably going to be so disgusted with me,” you gently add, suddenly worrying that this would be true. He may not have run away earlier when he had thought you had slept with Namjoon the other night, but he might once he knows how you had stupidly allowed yourself to embrace something that you should have only shared with Jungkook alone.
Unsurprisingly, Jungkook shakes his head. “There is no way, baby. No way I’d feel that way,” Jungkook says with full conviction, though you can sense his rage and frustration when his grip on your body tightens. “I have no doubt that it would make me feel uncomfortable to hear everything, and it would definitely hurt to imagine that someone else had touched you the way I would’ve done it to you. But once again, I had been the one who put you in that spot—”
“But it was still my fault. I could’ve done more to fight it. I’d understand if you don’t want—” you try to speak, even if you keep choking up. “If you can’t touch me—”
He clenches his jaw as he listens to you, then his voice drops deeper when he says, “I guess there’s only one way to rectify that, isn’t there?”
“What do you mean?”
The tightness in his jaw eases down slowly. “I already told you that I’m here to claim you back as mine,” he says, then his face descends until his lips are ghosting over yours, taunting you in the most sinful of ways as he brushes them on your lips, but not so much in the form of a kiss. The action becomes so distracting that it almost makes you miss what he says to you next, “—and that claiming includes erasing every mark that he had left behind on your beautiful skin.”
The possessiveness in his voice and what you see in his deep gaze make you quiver in his hold. It should have made you feel intimidated to see this side of his, especially with the current circumstances that you have found yourself in. Yet the only thing you feel in your chest is a mixture of pride and desire, when the feeling of being wanted only makes your body hot for him like never before.
As if he wants to show you that his intentions are true, Jungkook leans down and presses his lips on the nape of your neck. The kiss that he gives on your skin feels hotter and more sinful compared to the gentle way he treated you earlier. As he trails his hot lips down to your collarbone, his hands begin tugging at your shirt once again, growling in frustration when his fingers fail to find skin.
“And there are still way too many clothes to stop me from making it happen,” he grumbles with a pout, making you laugh.
Though your laughter quickly dies down when he makes quick work to pull off your clothes with his gentle hands, almost rushing when it comes to stripping him of the rest of his own clothes that are still coming in the way. His mouth rarely leaves your body as he does so, allowing you to feel his deep groan rumbling against your skin when his erection springs free of its constraint. Meanwhile, his hands are always quick to return to touch you, stroking his palms down each exposed inch of skin that he reveals as he strips you bare while adoring every curve of your body with his soft caress, finding every bit of imperfection with his fingers that he would later worship with his kisses.
In a rush moment, he is suddenly pressing on you, hard, with his firm body against yours. His lips come crashing against your lips, devouring you with the kind of force which allows you to feel and taste his desperate need to claim you back as his. His weight carries you backwards until your legs bump against the bed, yet his hands remain on the small of your back to keep you from falling. The moment you come to a halt, Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you pressed to him as he brings both of you down onto the bed. Soon, you find yourself pinned underneath him with no escape, his hands are busy exploring you while his eyes continue to roam down your body, taking you in.
“I’ve thought about this moment every single night,” he murmurs softly while he keeps running his hungry gaze down on you. Your eyes once again begin moving down to take him in, your hands are itching to touch him, to reach out and wrap his hard cock in your smaller palm to make him feel just as good as how he is making you feel.
But every intention fades when he pushes you back down onto the bed and pins your body with his. You writhe beneath him, eager to feel him as you greedily arch your hips up to meet his, and he distracts you with his hot kiss just to stop you and to take back control.
Your entire existence soon blurs into a tangle of warm and hungry lips, strong hands overpowering you until he fills your entire sense, and the hard pressure of his erection against your lower abdomen which sends heat pooling in your stomach. An ache forms between your thighs, and the desire to be one with him quickly takes over just as your need to reconnect with him and rebuild your bond springs to the surface. As if he is able to hear your silent plea, Jungkook slips his leg between your spread legs, and his thigh comes in contact right at your center. The feeling of his hard muscles pressing against your core sort of eases the ache a little, and your body quickly responds to him. Rocking your hips, you brush your throbbing core repeatedly, following each pulse of your need until you come to a steady rhythm until pleasure comes surging through your body.
“Ha—Jungkook!” you cry out to him when the pleasure rises rapidly and almost out of control, but you find that you cannot stop. You simply want more, and you continue to move, allowing yourself to slowly plunge over the edge without holding back.
Lost in the blissful moment, you slowly let go of the guilt, the pain, no longer thinking about the days that had passed while he was gone, as if those moments had been nothing but a long, terrible dream. The only thing that matters is now, how good it feels when he presses his thigh tighter against your soaking folds, how good it feels to rub your pulsing core against his toned muscles, and how it feels like he is rubbing deep inside you, right where the source of your pleasure resides.
“I know, baby,” he whispers, his voice coming in and out of your conscience as you continue rolling your hips, taken over by the desire and need that have been building up over the lonely days you had gone through without him and without his touch. He makes a move while you are drowning in bliss, leaning down to trail his lips down your heaving chest, pressing kisses over and around your mounds with his tongue slipping out to have a taste.
Your lower back comes off from the bed as he sucks one nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. When you stop moving your hips to revel in the pleasure he is igniting through your body, Jungkook takes over and presses his thigh harder against your core. A sharp cry comes out of you when each friction pushes you further to the edge, and your body shakes with the pleasure surging through you in such an intense rush.
Just as you are ready to embrace your climax, Jungkook moves to the other nipple, replacing his fingers with his mouth and tongue. When your body rocks with a moan coming out of your lips, he captures the hardened peak with his teeth, giving your sensitive nub a firm bite and a tight pinch between his fingers on the other, causing the delightful pain that sends you tumbling over the edge, and your orgasm rolls through you in a blinding bliss.
Jungkook continues his ministration to make the orgasm last. Then he waits until the rush of your climax starts to wind down and the movement of your hips to slow down before he slowly eases down on you. Though he doesn’t stop touching and worshipping you with his gentle hands and his sweet—yet sinful—mouth, patiently helping you come down from your high. He takes his sweet time doing so, as if he wants to savour the moment and relive every passing moment that he had taken for granted before he left. His tongue moves slowly across your abused nipple, soothing the pulsing pain that you can still feel emitting from the hardened nub while his hands are rubbing gently down your body to help you relax with his touch. Meanwhile, as your mind slowly clears out of the fog of your bliss, impatience soon comes in its place. You already begin feeling so needy of his sweet loving when his touch keeps making your body grow taut with desire and your pulse rising along with the heat.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper to him, pleading with him for more. “Take me now, Jungkook.”
Jungkook groans softly when he hears your plea and pulls back. He glides his hand lower, slipping his fingers right between your folds as he pulls his leg back. A resounding gasp comes out of you as his fingertips touch your clit, and he curses under his breath when your body rocks under his touch, when the spasms of your release begin pulsing once more with the gentle contact.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs as he presses his lips under your chin. “And so sensitive,” he adds, just when you begin rocking your hips back and forth to respond to his invading fingers, when he moves them in slow circles around your bundle of nerves.
“You do this to me,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out when he keeps playing your body like a fiddle, making all the delightful rush in your body to linger with his fingers on your sensitive spots and his mouth pressing on your hot skin. “Please, Jungkook. Hurry—”
With a chuckle, Jungkook pulls back so you can see his cocky grin. “What’s the rush, baby?”
You let out another gasp when he flicks his finger on your clit, teasing you further. “But you said—”
“I know what I said, and I want to be inside you more than you probably do. But I want to make this last longer. Maybe I should draw it out a little more—” his fingers move slower to a painful crawl as he guides them down your slit, dragging it a little until you arch your hips, chasing his touch. Then you feel those naughty fingers pressing on the entrance, right at the source of your throbbing need. “—to punish you for being such a bad girl.”
His words draw a desperate whimper out of you. With a frustrated groan, you shove your fingers into his hair and jerk his face down to yours. Your mouths fuse together in a frenzy, open-mouthed kiss, filled with the equal need that you both have for each other. Jungkook presses his fingers harder and gently pushes into your folds, entering you slowly and your pussy pulses around his intruding digits. As he drowns your moans into the kiss, he starts stroking his fingers faster, timing his pace together with the movement of your tongues. Sparks of delight streak through you, growing stronger and stronger with each friction of his fingers between your clenching walls, each stroke of the tongue, and each gentle moan, and you shatter apart once again in bliss with his name coming out of your lips.
You hold on tightly to his shoulders as you embrace your release, making him your anchor in the sea of bliss, while he slowly moves to position himself down between your parted legs. He kisses the cry that escapes you when he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, leaving your pussy walls clenching tightly into the emptiness. Though he is not letting you feel empty and ignored for a moment longer as he lowers his body onto yours, his hips gently meeting yours as the perfect fit to each other.
When his hardness meets your center, your entire body shudders. The anticipation and need have been driving you crazy that even after your climax, your body still craves for him. It simply hums in its need, throbbing in its desire to become one with him.
Sliding into your warmth, Jungkook stills for a moment, revelling at the pleasure and joy of being joined with you in the most intimate of ways, to feel your body welcoming him inside you as if this is where he truly belongs. Meanwhile, relief and pleasure scorch right through you, along with the contentment of knowing that you have finally made it to this amazing place, where you are both ready to face the future against all odds, to take on the world together.
Starting right here, right where you are joined together, body and soul.
You open your eyes to meet his gaze, nodding at him when you feel you are ready for more, even if your walls are still clenching intensely around his cock. His girth feels like a tight fit inside you. Then as he pushes his way further inside you, his length reaches the deepest part of you that only he has ever gone to.
He begins to move, starting with a few long and slow strokes while he continues to worship your body with his sinful mouth and busy hands, leaving not a single inch untouched. Words of praises continue to flow right out of his lips between each kiss he grants you with. “You’re so beautiful, baby. So perfectly mine. I love how your skin feels in my hands. I love the way you taste that has me so addicted to you,” he keeps murmuring against your skin while he continues moving steadily, giving you nothing but pleasure with every rock of his hips.
With a tug at your hips, he pulls your body down and positions you in a way that allows him to hit deeper inside you, and sparks immediately start dancing across your vision when he begins thrusting so deep that your body jolts with each push of his cock inside you. You love the way he moves over you, how he moves his hips in the perfect rhythm that brings you ecstasy until you are left speechless, bound by the delightful haze of sinful pleasure. You can easily tell that he is listening to every sound that you make to know exactly what you like and just what you need. It doesn’t take long until your moan starts rising, and your body begins arching further into him as you rock your hips in tandem, responding to every thrust he is giving you.
Needing more, you wind your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands and messing on them further while moaning out his name, pleading for him to give you more. And he easily complies. With a deep groan, he begins thrusting faster, eager to give you everything that you need. “Fuck, my cock feels so good being buried inside you like this,” he groans deeply as he pushes all the way in, making you twitch beneath him with the pressure and the delightful feeling that it brings through your body. He continues pumping his hips, circling you both higher and higher to the peak of bliss. “You are so perfect for me, baby. So good.”
“Harder,” you moan out a plea for him as you tighten your grip on his shoulders. “Fuck me, Jungkook. I need you so badly right now.”
A soft curse comes out of him and he pushes at your knees, opening you up even more as he brings your legs up so he can sink deeper inside you. As his weight presses down your body, you expect him to start slamming into you with hard, powerful strokes. Instead, he keeps his pace steady, taking his time as he makes love to you. Your bodies continue to move together, and he maintains the tempo of his thrusts as he dips his head and leans down to kiss your lips. He moves his lips down to your face, skimming along your neck until he finds the sensitive skin behind your ear.
He muffles his own grunts and whimpers as he nips at your skin, giving you a light bite right over your pulse which would be enough to leave a mark on your skin. His warm breath that keeps falling on you begins to pick up just as his chest stutters when he embraces the pleasure rushing through his hot body.
With your need already at its peak from the start and your body has grown sensitive with every touch that he has been giving you, you feel so close to the edge. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him tighter, holding him close to you with your hands clutching on his shoulders. His back muscles contract under your fingers as he keeps ramming into you at a steady pace, before his movement grows more frantic with each rise of your moans. Just as the first pulse of your climax throbs within you, his body flexes against you and the sound of his deep grunt slips out of his mouth, a sign that his own orgasm is beginning to gather strength.
“You are mine, ______. You’re mine, baby. Always. Not even the entire universe can take you away for me. Not now, not ever.”
With his claim, your entire being shatters. Your muscles clench around him, bringing him along with you as you embrace the pleasure, revelling in the sparks that come alight as he pushes the both of you over the edge with his intense loving.
This time, as you give in to the love and desire for the man who had earned it the most, the unsettling storm that resides in your heart fades to null, but the fire that takes over in its place does not settle.
It soars.
➥ Author’s note | It’s finally up! I’m sorry for another long wait. It was hard to find my motivation and to return to my usual writing pace again after I was gone for my trip, but I’m glad that it’s here. I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. As you may have noticed, I have decided to split the final chapter and the epilogue since both parts are equally massive. Please give likes and comments, reblog and share this post to your friends if you do enjoy it. Thank you so much for the love and support you have been giving this story so far. See you in the final one! Love you all!
❥ Originally commissioned by @namgishope
— © 2022 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.
#jungkook smut#jungkook scenario#bangtansorciere#ksmutclub#btshoneyhive#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#bts scenario#bts fanfic#kpop scenario#kpop writing#kpop fanfic#bts smut#bts fluff#bts angst#bts x reader
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A Crown Without Jewels
by Rottenest
27 people had a lot of blood; what could he say?
“Danyal?” Damian asked, his voice faux-confident. Danny knew that voice, though. Damian spoke in it every time Danny came back from training, his eyes still burning green.
Danny sighed. He dropped the katana, hearing it clatter to the floor. Damian carefully, suspiciously, lowered his arm. He still kept his own katana tight in his hands. Both of them knew Danny didn’t go rabid with the red; he could still plot and be deceitful. He didn’t get that blinding Pit Rage.
---OR---
Some 8 years after Danny ran away from the League after his own sort-of experience with the Pits, he and his brother happen to reunite in some less than stellar circumstances. Meaning right after Danny fought and heavily injured roughly 27 assassins. Not-- not the best.
TL;DR - Demon twins AU with Pit influenced!Danny
Words: 10738, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Robin: Son of Batman (Comics), Danny Phantom
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: Gen
Characters: Danny Fenton, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Jack Drake, Mary Grayson, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, a lot of mentioned characters - Character
Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Danny Fenton, Danny Fenton & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Past Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne - Relationship
Additional Tags: Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Danny Fenton-centric, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Everyone Needs A Hug, BAMF Danny Fenton, Bad Parent Talia al Ghul, Jack Drake Tries, Canon-Typical Violence, Ghosts, Clockwork is Kronos, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Protective Danny Fenton, define "good brother" please, because these two are uhhh, yea, Lazarus Pit Side Effects (DCU), Past Character Death, meet danny fr hes just that tag, no beta we die like danny
via https://ift.tt/qdZmW7k
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*Proceds to infodump in the tumblr void*
I´m finally writing something of my Fenton centric yet unnamed au, some magic lore ahhhhhh. It needs more development and time but I have all the ideas ready. If you want to read my nonsense suit youself.
The seven souls (or maybe another tittle).
There was a legend believed to have disappeared in time, almost all written evidence wiped out of the world, just known to certain individuals, but that available information were rumors nonetheless. Sometimes at old towns by the sea you can hear an ancient story, about dangerous creatures of deceit that used to terrorize villages and killed so many. As enchanting as they were lethal, the sirens used their power to get what they wanted; if you heard a song at the distant on the sea you knew you wouldn’t be coming back.
How did the nightmare end isn´t so clear, it is said that powerful people united to hunt these creatures to extinction, maybe finding a weakness, maybe outsmarting the sirens or using magic of their own, but there´s a detail that amazes some and cause fears to others. An important member of the group of heroes got blinded by power, using the need of a strategy he convinced everyone to help creating an artifact; with seven souls of the sirens a necklace that granted the powers of the monsters came to existence.
The battle continued, not only with the creatures this time, also with the one they have trusted. Once the artifact was retrieved it was decided: the jewel had to vanish, to prevent any casualty in the future. Today no one knows where it is or at least it´s what those with its knowledge think.
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Hey so... we're back!! We're back and here with more AUs! We've compiled a list of our major AUs (bc trust us, there's wayyyy more) and decided to share them. Based on public reaction, we might release more information about them (such as fics, drawings, story details, etc.), so make sure to let us know what you think! Alright, enough talking, let's get into the AUs!
Divinities AU
Basically, “Divinities” are the equivalent of gods in this AU and they all live in the Gardens of Heaven.
Characters:
Roman – Divinity of Love (A being with a firey passion and fierce love for his family)
Remus – Divinity of Chaos (A being who thrives off of disruption and disarray)
Logan – Divinity of Knowledge and Heavenly Wrath (A being who granted humanity intelligence and punishes them for their wrongdoings)
Janus – Divinity of Justice (A being worshipped for the purpose of judgement. As justice is blind, so is he)
Virgil – Divinity of Death (A being who is responsible for letting spirits pass on when their time comes)
Patton – Divinity of Life (A being who made all life on Earth and loves his creations dearly)
Summary:
Thomas is a child who dreamed of adventure. After finding out that a family heirloom was actually a key to a hidden temple, he makes it his priority to find that temple and retrieve the treasure within. However, he finds something completely different when he gets there. He finds what seems to be an angel, shackled and magically suppressed. When Thomas frees him, the angel offers him more adventures in exchange for being his cleric and helping him to achieve his goal. Though, Thomas is unaware that this “goal” stems from quite the backstory; one of betrayal and pain.
Swapped AU
Characters:
Roman – Morality (The “younger” brother, childish and clingy. He has an interest in Japanese culture)
Remus – Anxiety (The “older” brother, protective and loving. Somehow he's very expressive, even with a mask on)
Patton – Creativity (A prideful inventor with high ambitions. Opinions of others matter a lot to him)
Janus – Logic (The “parent” of the group, knowledgeable yet ignored. He has an interest in snakes)
Virgil – Deceit (A classic villain “cursed” with 8 eyes. He’s severely insecure about them)
Logan – Intrusive Thoughts (An insane scientist/engineer. He finds people hard to interact with)
Summary:
What would happen if Thomas watched Veggie Tales? And if he already has, then what would happen if he never watched Veggie Tales? This AU is what each side could’ve been if something completely random had happened and shook up their roles. (...totally a shitpost backstory-)
Roman and Remus are still brothers and Patton and Logan have a cousin-type relationship. Janus, Virgil, and Logan are also husbands because… why not <3 love wins
Comfort Crew AU
Characters:
HP- headphones (comfy clothes only, matching black eyeshadow, shaggy black hair, verryy introverted)
Kat- katana (Japanese style clothing, obsessed with studying fighting stances, has long hair he usually keeps in a bun, practices fighting with Roman)
Macey- mace (eccentric clothing, likes fighting but chaotically, surprise attacks Remus to make him feel better, knows Remus really well and helps him on bad days)
Cane- cane/staff (selectively mute, communicates through sign language with Janus and HP, very reserved and quiet, trusts very few people)
Croft- crofters jam (sweetest person you'll ever meet, convinced Logan he likes cuddles, cottagecore aesthetic)
Choc and Chip- cookies (literally Patton's children, they run and jump on him for hugs when Pat's not feeling good, always knows when Pat wants cuddles, transports exclusively through piggy back rides)
Summary:
What happens when the sides favorite objects become personified? Well, they become the comfort crew, of course! Meet HP, Kat, Macey, Cane, Croft, Choc, and Chip. Each comfort is connected to their specific side; HP with Virgil, Kat with Roman, Macey with Remus, Cane with Janus, Croft with Logan, and Choc and Chip with Patton. With these new additions, who knows what shenanigans they’ll get into!
Stanley Parable AU
(Small rundown if you don’t know The Stanley Parable: Stanley is a character created by the Narrator, a protagonist in his story. You play as Stanley. You can choose to follow the Narrator’s story or deviate from it, which gets you a variety of endings. The story is also a game programmed by the Narrator [presumably])
TW: DEREALIZATION, ISOLATION, POTENTIAL SUICIDE
Characters:
Roman – Stanley (A curious protagonist, guided by a voice he can’t hear)
Logan – The Narrator (An inhuman and isolated writer, who’s perplexed by humans)
Remus – Bugged Employee (this was an original role. His code was copy and pasted from Roman, but his model was sloppily changed by Logan. Due to his bugginess, he was able to learn of media outside of the Parable and his behavior became irregular)
Virgil – Employee 432 (Used to be an employee before Roman was “awoken”)
Janus – The Curator (A similarly inhuman being as Logan. He knows the beginnings and ends, some of which not even the creator himself is aware of)
Summary:
Roman, for as long as he’s known, has loved his office job. All he ever did was press buttons, one after the other, but he still loved it nonetheless. That is, until one day when he realized that everyone had disappeared from the building. Where could they have gone? He decided to check the meeting room first, just in case he missed a memo…
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Roman, a lonely writer sat behind a screen. That writer couldn’t wait to build a story for his beloved protagonist.
Siren AU
Characters:
Roman- siren, unintelligent about the human world, loves his partners with all his heart, has a human form
Virgil- Pirate captain, wears a charm to protect him from siren magic, values his crew greatly and takes good care of them, also loves his partners very much
Janus- first mate, had a little sister but lost her, Virgil’s most trusted crew member, loving partner, last added to the relationship, would do anything for his partners
Logan- siren, husband to Remus, lives alone, spent years searching for Remus, watched over Roman
Remus- siren, husband to Logan, fate unknown
Patton- second mate, takes care of the crew in a paternal way, ensures everyone has proper accommodations, is entrusted with the ships functions in the case Virgil and Janus are occupied
Remy- coffee shop owner, partner to Emilie, transgender
Emilie- florist, partner to Remy
Summary:
Roman is a lonely siren, stranded and looking for his next victim. Luckily for him, he finds a ship with a rather dashing captain and first mate. Although his attempt to seduce the captain doesn’t go as planned, Roman finds himself in a loving relationship with his two partners, Virgil and Janus. Although, an unanswered question bubbles below the surface; what happened to Remus?
7 sins AU
TW: THIS AU INCLUDES SUICIDE, BULLYING, VIOLENCE, CANNIBALISM, DEATH, AND SLIGHT/IMPLIED GORE
Characters:
Roman – Pride (Was once a powerful tyrant, and now settles with helping Thomas with his makeup and love life)
Remus – Lust (Was a prince to a corrupt kingdom, serving as “comfort” to the common people. Usually helps with body positivity :))
Logan – Greed (Was an overachieving professor, driven by the need for knowledge. Helps educate Thomas in topics he struggles with)
Virgil – Wrath (Was a blind middle school student, bullied by his classmates. Helps with caution and anxieties)
Janus – Envy (Was an assassin in Russia and killed during a mission. Helps Thomas understand that wanting things is okay)
Patton – Gluttony (Was a cannibal who eventually ate himself. Gruesome, I know. Helps Thomas make sure he's eating enough every day)
Summary:
Thomas is a seemingly average man. After inheriting a house from a relative and moving in, he starts noticing strange events. Perhaps the piano would play itself or the fridge would be more empty than he’d remember it being. Little did he know that his new house was haunted by demons; tortured spirits with untimely and gruesome deaths. Oh and they also help him get his life together, as part of their redemptions. (All sides are sympathetic)
Anaghostical AU
Characters:
Virgil- college student, an anxious mess, relatively lonely
Logan- ghost, caring, supportive, also lonely
Roman- friend of Virgil, attends same college
Remus- friend of Virgil, attended same college but dropped out, training to become a tattoo artist
Janus- Virgil’s father, married to Patton, successful lawyer
Patton- Virgil’s dad, married to Janus, runs a daycare
Summary:
Virgil is a broke college student trying to find his first official apartment. In an odd stroke of luck, he finds a newly vacant apartment for cheap rent near his campus. Upon moving in, he finds out why it was vacant; there’s a ghost! Because of his strict belief in cryptids, demons, monsters, and the like, he decides to befriend the ghost. Will the two fall into forbidden love?
#ts fanfic#ts fanfiction#ts fandom#ts au#ts logan sanders#ts logan#ts logic#sanders sides logan#logan sanders#ts roman#ts roman sanders#ts creativity#sanders sides roman#roman sanders#ts virgil#ts virgil sanders#ts anxiety#virgil sanders#sanders sides virgil#ts remus#ts remus sanders#sanders sides remus#remus sanders#ts janus#ts janus sanders#janus sanders#sanders sides janus#ts patton#ts patton sanders#patton sanders
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As a communist I think RWRB is actually very interesting because it is a perfect example of what well-intentioned (naive? or, more cruelly: deceitful) neoliberals think democracy/monarchy is and could accomplish or become in a better, more just world. It very much reads as delusional to me, and considering I used to follow the author on tumblr and remember their obsession with Sorkin's The West Wing I feel like it's a very genuine adoration for the potential for change in existing political and economic systems, which fascinates me. I get that it pisses you off and I respect that, but I wanted to share the way in which I managed to enjoy the book despite the way it's in direct contrast to my sensibilities. Also, I think most books that read as fanfiction are uniquely terrible even though I read a lot of mediocre fanfiction still, while this one read as decent fanfiction, so I appreciated that too.
I appreciate your perspective actually, because I've been so pissed off and confused by how blind people can be over this lmao. I get why you feel that way, but I'm definitely never watching it for myself. I enjoy fanfiction a lot, and I don't mind media based on/similar to fic, but but it has to be done in a certain way for me to enjoy it and I don't think rwrb is gonna do it for me. Royalty AUs have always Pissed Me Off lmao
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I've been reading the very limited amount of Blind Deceit and I thought of something cute 💛 He used to read stories to Virgil and Remus when Thomas was young, with the two never knowing that it was braille. Years later, Remus finds their old story books and decides to ask Dee about them in front of everyone. It leads to them all finding out that he's blind, Patton finding out that he's a great Dad and Virgil (whom he hasn't made up with yet) asking him to read after a Nightmare that night 💜
I had a lot of fun with this one! I really love Blind Deceit, and really hope you enjoy this!!!
Pairings: None/All platonic
Warnings: None really? Just lmk if I need to add anything!
Masterpost
———————————
Deceit was relaxing on the couch in the mind palace, one earbud in as he listened to a podcast. He and Remus had been… Mostly accepted. Things were still sometimes really tense, and he knew it would take a while for everything to settle. But Deceit took advantage of the calm day they were having. Roman and Patton were baking, if their laughter and the strong scent of chocolate was anything to go by. Virgil was still napping, or maybe just quietly scrolling on his phone. Deceit hadn’t heard a peep from him in a while. And Logan was reading nearby on the couch, the only indication he was there to Deceit being the frequent sound of pages turning.
And Remus was nowhere to be found.
Deceit guessed he was in the Imagination, preparing a prank for Roman. Or perhaps in his room, conducting an experiment.
And so Deceit closed his eyes, seeing the darkness that he saw all the time anyway, and lost himself in the voices of those on the podcast. He might as well enjoy this rare day of peace.
He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until Remus was shaking him awake.
Deceit blinked, rubbing his eyes and looking in Remus’s direction. Deceit instantly knew it was him and no one else by the scent of fresh blood lingering in the air around the side.
“Yes, Remus?”
“Good! You’re up!” Deceit felt some stuff being pushed into his hands as he sat up. “I was digging around some old stuff, from when Virgie and I were really really young, right? And I found these!”
“Why would you even want find those old books, Remus?” Virgil asked tiredly, and Deceit could feel his gaze on the pair. In fact, Deceit could practically feel everyone looking at them. “They aren’t worth much.”
Remus stuck his tongue out at Virgil, glaring half-heartedly. “I thought you of all sides would be excited, considering they were always your favorite whenever Dee read them to us!”
Virgil’s surprise was evident in his voice. “You don’t mean-”
“They’re the old Disney classics.” Deceit finished, running his fingers over the covers lightly and feeling the familiar bumps of the title.
“Yeah! And I thought it’d be fun to read them myself, but I literally couldn’t understand anything. Dee, why’re they all in braille?”
“Because I’m blind?” Deceit stated simply, opening one of the books and tracing his fingers over the words. His eyes widened slightly. “Wait- didn’t I ever tell you?”
Remus was gaping at him. In fact, everyone was. There was a beat of silence, before Remus tackled him into a hug.
Deceit yelped as he suddenly had a duke clinging to him, laughing almost hysterically. Deceit blinked in confusion, but still held Remus close, because why would Deceit not? Remus was his family, as good as Deceit’s own child.
He tilted his head in Patton’s direction as the moral side began to speak. “You mean… You read to them when they were younger?”
“Don’t sound so surprised, Patton.” Deceit stated, running a hand through Remus’s hair as the side slowly calmed down. “They were young, and afraid. They had nightmares constantly. What was I supposed to do, just tell them to suck it up and just go back to bed?”
Remus squeezed him tighter.
“I can’t believe you know braille and never taught us!” That was definitely Logan.
“I can’t believe I never noticed, I just thought you had good eyesight!” Virgil, and Deceit could imagine the look of shock on his face. He sounded closer though. Deceit nearly reached out, to beckon him into his arms as well, just as they used to. But he thought better of it. They still hadn’t made amends, and he doubted Virgil would want Deceit to hug him.
“I did not realize it wasn’t obvious, it wasn’t something I was trying to hide from either of you. The rest of you, yes, but not you or Remus.”
He heard Roman’s signature princey gasp. “Hide it from us!”
Deceit just shrugged, feeling Remus move to sit next to him instead of on top, which Deceit was definitely a bit grateful for. The suffocating smell of death was a bit more bearable when Remus wasn’t directly on him.
“Wait- how are you even blind? Thomas isn’t blind!” Roman added, glancing to the others.
“Logan and Patton need glasses, do they not?” Deceit pointed out. “Yet Thomas doesn’t need glasses all the time.”
“He should wear them more often though,” Logan mumbled.
“Well, I guess Deceit never saw this conversation coming, huh?”
The others groaned as Patton laughed, and Deceit felt the small bit of tension in his shoulders disappear, smiling gently.
“Oh! Roman and I made brownies for dinner if everyone’s hungry?” Patton asked, glancing around. Deceit could tell Logan was about to lecture them that it wasn’t healthy, and he was right. Deceit still got to his feet to join them all for brownies though.
-
Deceit was just about to fall asleep. He had stayed up listening to some show most of the night to unwind, and he could tell it was getting late. The others had all been asleep for a few hours now, if the silence of the house was anything to go by.
Just as he had pulled the blanket over himself, Deceit heard his door creek open and close softly. Deceit frowned, sitting up.
“Deceit?”
Virgil?
Deceit tilted his head. “Can I help you?”
Virgil hesitated, before taking a deep breath.
“I know… That we haven’t exactly made up, and we should probably talk things out soon and come to some sort of agreement, but I… I can’t sleep.”
Deceit raised a brow, confused. “Why are you coming to me then, and not Patton, or even Logan?”
“Because…” He could hear Virgil fidgeting. “I just, Remus bringing up those books reminded me of how nice things we’re. I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep. And, and I don’t think Patton or Logan could stomach reading one of the classics. Certainly not Roman. And Remus is too loud. And you always had such a soothing voice, but I get if you would rather not and I can go and we could forget this ever happened-”
“Virgil, do you want me to read to you?”
Virgil swallowed, and his voice came out meek. “Yes…?”
Deceit bit his lip gently, before shifting on the bed. Virgil’s eyes brightened slightly as he climbed into bed beside Deceit, feeling some of Deceit’s arms wrap around him. He handed Deceit the book he wanted read to him- The Little Mermaid.
They both got a bit more comfortable, Virgil curled into Deceit’s side as Deceit began to read. His fingers traced the pages slowly as Virgil lost himself in Deceit’s voice, and soon Virgil drifted off back to sleep.
———————————
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TS Taglist
@treasureofpriam @theloveliestsweetspongy @tacochippy @anderswrites @romanknite @0beansprout0 @random-fandom-dragon @daflangstlairde @princerhubarb @that-one-ts-artist @heyitsmeimjustkindahere @aromanticandaromatic @deliciouslycrookedme @batpinkstudentpersona @avocados26 @fandomloverangel @red-eyes88 @adarkgreensoul @analogicallythinking @thatreallyawkwardpotato @insanegoldie2 @gothams-lil-sweet-potato-pie @alexkittycat1 @len-art-trash @faithyfander @an-absolute-failure @lexilucacia @o-hello-its-me @fearthesmolpotato @moxiety-my-love @thatonenerdphotographer @diadems-arewornon-capita @morrogirl9024 @thefandomnerd15 @sulphur-and-honey @aroaceagenderfluid @yalltookmyurlideas @brain-iak @theoneandonlydork @sidesareathing @surohsopsisofclouds @dissappropriation @demigodbookdragon @too-many-fandoms89 @a-soul-among-the-stars @croftersgamer @thenaiads @theyluna-womoon @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit @willowaudreykeyes @nafsbluebery @stopitanxiety @deceitnotyeet @underthesea73 @jackscareington @askrae-the-fander @enby-ralsei @stinkyboiremus69 @cas-is-a-hunter
Deceit-Centric Taglist
@cerberusisspot @nexi0us
#deceit sanders#patton sanders#remus sanders#virgil sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#no ship#ts roman#ts deceit#ts patton#ts virgil#ts remus#ts logan#sanders sides#ts sides#fluff#blind deceit#blind deceit au#sympathetic patton#sympathetic roman#sympathetic remus#sympathetic deceit#sympathetic virgil#sympathetic logan#amberskywrites#ambersky ask#ask#prompt#willowaudreykeyes
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Hide and Seek
7͍̻̝/̹̼̠̫7̣̻͓̠̦
̬̗̼̹̠̱̟H̤e͍͇'̝̦̗̞̫͕s ̭͓̩͍̭h̦͉͖e̱͈͎̮̝̱͎r̩͕̝̺̬e̦̹̗̣̱͈.
A̫̠̝̗̖r͈͍͖͈̠e͍̺ ̙͎̼y̻̥̞̞͕o̙u ̦rḙ͉͖̙͇̬̲a̪͎͈̹̯͓d̞̥͍̹̝y?͎͈̣̣̪͈
Patton has the distinct feeling that something is wrong. He hears no crying. No begging. With all his kiddos under punishment, it’s far too quiet. He puts down his newspaper (its not news, it’s just pictures of dogs), sets his coffee next to it, and starts looking around.
He sticks a head into Logan’s room, it’ empty, and a tip, he’d have to clean that later. He looks round Roman’s room, tidy as ever, but empty. All as it’s supposed to be. And then he decides to go check on Lo-Lo and Virgie.
The noise he makes when he sees that they’re gone, a shriek that makes your hairs stand on end and your blood freeze. It echoes through the mindscape, waking the pile of escapees. Almost immediately, the air takes on a heavier, foreboding feel. Patton is on the hunt.
He stalks back to the kitchen, covered in blood and dog hair, carrying a bloodied, blue bandana he ties around his wrist, and grabs a knife from the drawer. If the kiddos want a fight, then he is more than happy to oblige. Who doesn’t love a game of hide and seek?
As he walks through the halls, malintent and purpose in every step, he scans each room he passes for signs of life. A blood spatter here, a smudge on the wall there, all lead him to the forest, dark and ominous in the artificial night. That doesn’t stop him, though, and he ploughs on forward, silent through thick trees swallowing up what little light the stars provide, and acting as the perfect cover for him.
The sound of footsteps thudding away draws his attention, and his head turns to face it, more than a normal human could, a full 180 to track the noise. In that topsy-turvy state, he follows the noises, nigh-on growling, shifting his grip on the knife.
A deep, primal growl bubbles up from goodness knows where, and he spots them. A blur of white screaming and crying, a blur of blue helping him. His first targets, apparently, his dashing prince and his clever darling boy.
He draws closer, loud enough to draw their attention, the goes still, letting them look around in confusion. Then, he lunges, talons of a beast, sharp as the reaper’s scythe tearing at their chests. He gets a good hit on Logan, but misses Roman, giving him time to get them both away, even if the smell of blood lingers.
“Boy, that isolation really was a swell idea! The look in his eyes, so good! I just wanna pluck them out!”
He mimes along, a smile splitting his face clean in two, revealing rows of inhuman teeth, quickly covered up as another duo walks past. Virgil is holding Janus’s arm, guiding him through trees as quickly as they could go. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fast enough.
With the knife and the claws and the teeth, its no wonder Virgil collapses, chest and face torn apart, and Janus is knocked into a tree, slumped unconscious in its lower branches. Filthy snake.
His final prey should be Remus, all by his lonesome. He is of course chasing the wildlife with his peepee out, and Patton just won’t have it. Someone needs to teach him a lesson in behaving, and none of the others are nice enough to do it.
He grabs Remus by the wrists, and pins them to a nearby tree, knife already impaled into his stomach. With one swipe, his hands fall to the floor, and it doesn’t take much effort to pluck out his eyes, the nasty green things, like a sickness. He looks so much prettier!
From behind him, he hears the others, regrouping and sneaking behind him. That simply won’t do. He tuts, opens his mouth, and screams. That same unearthly wail echoes through the trees, setting off a murder of crows above them.
Somewhat funny, in a sick way.
The others fall to the ground, and the prophecy comes to be as Roman had predicted, which isn’t always good.
I’ll spare you the graphic details, but when they’d done, Logan’s body is impaled onto a nearby tree branch, the width of an arm, limbs discarded about the clearing.
Roman’s body is decapitated, eyes gouged out, hands cut off, and shirt stained his signature red.
Remus’ corpse lays in little bitesize pieces across the floor, already rotting.
Virgil was the first to die, so his corpse is just propped up against Logan’s tree, decaying.
Janus’ body is dangling from a puppy-pattern rope tied to the tallest branch of a tree, neck lolling at an angle.
Patton looks down at the mess on his shirt, and heads back home, to start on dinner. They’ll be back by next week, tops, and he can’t wait for the next big holiday to have this kind of fun again.
He pulls out a worn notebook, and flicks to the latest page, under the heading ‘Halloween 2020 Plans and Notes’ and adds to his notes that separating them didn’t work. Oh well. There’s always next time. For him, at least. For them?
Not so much.
Happy Halloween, kiddos!
#tw: assault#tw: violence#tw body horror#tw bodily harm#tw blindness#tw blood#tw fighting#tw graphic#tw horror#tw hands#tw injury#tw murder#tw pet death#sshorror pat#sshorrorfamily au#tw unsympathetic patton#tw sympathetic deceit#tw sympathetic remus#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#virgil sanders#remus sanders#janus sanders#sander sides au#whump#ts sides#ts sander sides#ts roman#ts remus
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Sanders Sides Ghost Hunters AU
Virgil who stays alone during three in the morning in a ghost-frequented place and constantly quotes memes.
Logan who goes to the old rooms and tries to communicate with the ghosts and tries to get activity on camera.
Roman who screams the most even when he goes alone to the most dangerous places and is actually just there because Virgil asked.
Remus who always gets sent to the darkest places with particularly dangerous spirits since he doesn’t care.
Patton who gets the most visual activity on his cameras because he’s so cheery that the ghosts flock to his high energy.
Deceit, their blind friend, who asks to be sent into a highly haunted area with a go pro and calls everything a demon and gets the most physical experiences because he can’t see it if a ghost just decides to throw things at him. (He used to be on just the audio because his ears are more sensitive and pick things up more than the others can.)
Thomas is their techie who keeps an eye on all of them to make sure they’re all okay (and usually has to tell the others when Deceit and/or Remus inevitably get attacked).
Joan, Thomas’ friend, who helps with tech and they’re the one that makes sure nobody’s hurt too much.
Talyn, Thomas’ other friend, who helps setting up the cameras in Deceit’s areas since Dee can’t really set up his own and sits with Thomas and Joan watching them hunt ghosts.
Camden who usually goes with Deceit as his eyes, since his guide dog doesn’t like doing ghost hunting, especially when they’re in an especially run-down place. Other times he’s with Thomas, Joan, and Talyn.
Taglist: @aimlesslyfloatingintheuniverse @abeelarts @blooklain @edgy-little-pancake @0callmejude0 @just-another-rainbowblog @soijusthavetoask @random-fandom-dragon @mariita-2006 @a-chaotic-being @spacegayparty @megaenthusiastickoala @panicat-thesocial-event @deceits-friendo @agentblackkat @avocados26 @hiddendreamer67 @cryptidcherrry @sparkleformeknow2 @heyitsmeimjustkindahere @minecraftpunk @jerrysicle-tree @bihighandgivinghighfives
#sanders sides#sympathetic deceit#blind deceit#virgil sanders#logan sanders#roman sanders#remus sanders#patton sanders#deceit sanders#thomas sanders#ts joan#ts talyn#ts camden#sanders sides imagine#imagine#sanders sides au#au idea#ghost hunters au#ghost hunters
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