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sehodreams · 2 months

Text

a good girl's paradox

TW and Tags: plus size!coworker!reader x coworker!lee tang (he changed his name to Gyeong-su in the episode), mentions of violent acts (stalking, killing, bullying), smut, p in v (with protection), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), suicidal thoughts, trauma, related to the series but it changes the storyline for the fic purposes, unclear descriptions of the place (Busan) because I have no interest into learning more geography for a fic.

WC: 10K

Summary: Everyone goes to that province to hide, and you’re not the exception, but it’s also said that everyone wants to leave, and perhaps, you’re the exception to that.

Comment: Sorry guys I know I have a lot of requests and other drafts waiting, but I love this man so much I couldn’t help it, I started it yesterday and finished it today because I've been having so many problems finishing other fics and decided this was not going to be one of those half done. It's long so there are definitely mistakes, please be kind, again, English is not my first language.

Feeling the ocean breeze mess up with your hair and leave little particles of salt on it, you sat over the bench and watched the sun appear over the horizon. It was incredibly calm, and beautiful, and you inhaled the aroma of the sea in front of you, an aroma your mother used to love when you were younger, always carrying you in her arms to take you there and watch the sunrise together while eating marmalade and butter sandwiches.

You stopped completely going there once she passed away, and everyone knew why you tried to avoid its existence as if it woke up all the melancholic memories you had with her.

The truth was, you always hated it, and you stopped completely going only because you had no reason to do it anymore. You could make your own decisions once she wasn’t around anymore, and your father never cared enough to keep you company even on important events, so for as long as you could, you just didn’t go.

However, now that you saw it in front of you, you did remember some moments with your mother, her smile, and her excited voice telling you to wake up and watch the sun appear.

‘’Fucking sea’’ you said once the sun completely stayed up there, an orange light showering the whole scenery making it even more breathtaking, but still hating it.

You stood up, grabbed the suitcase handle, and walked alongside the sea, trying to catch a cab in that part of the countryside little city, different from Seoul, which was always awake, you saw how only a couple of people were walking around there, and most of them where fishers getting ready for work, or maybe they were coming back, but you, a city girl your whole life, didn’t know.

You found a taxi not much later and telling him where you were going, the driver rolled his window even more, and giving you a good look, he nodded for you to jump in.

‘’It’s not far from here’’ he said, and you nodded, not feeling like talking much with him. ‘’When you leave, don’t let them charge you too much, never pay more than 15 dollars for any cab, and never go to the sea at night.’’

That last sentence caught your attention, sounding like advice but with a hint of uninterest, assuming that you were going to leave one day.

‘’When I leave?’’ you asked.

‘’You’re going to a rented apartment, I know that building, we know everyone here, and you’re a city girl, I can hear it in your voice, all pretty and clear, something happened to you there so you came here to hide, it’s always the same thing, but your kind never like it here enough to stay’’ he answered sure of his statement.

You looked out the window, the sea was blue, pure, immaculate, and the sun wasn’t orange anymore, a clear sky showing the clouds up there, which you could see reflected into the sea.

But it all looked so grey to you, after all, a beautiful thing like that one still killed people every now and then, fishers who tried to make a living, tourists curious of what was deep inside, or simply people who tried to refresh themselves with the cool temperature of it in the summer, so you nodded.

It was beautiful, a dream, but you would never fall in love with it, if you never did it before even with the memories of your childhood, why would you do it now?

‘’Thank you’’ you said, agreeing with him.

You’d never like it enough to stay.

Still, you kind of appreciated his words after living there for almost a month.

Something you never forgot was how that driver, only with that short conversation, helped you so much, because it was true, you never had to pay more than 15 bucks for any cab, and every time the drivers tried to take advantage of you because of your accent, you only had to spit a short fuck off before they called you a bitch and accepted your bills before driving away.

At first, it was hard, you had never cursed in front of another person and you felt almost sick whenever you did it, but after deciding no one knew you there enough to have the right to judge you, or reminding yourself to just say what went through your mind to not punish yourself later with an I should’ve done something different, you started to feel better with your life there.

Also, he had been right about city people hiding there.

There weren’t many, but they were there, and it was incredibly easy to recognize them.

Apart from the dialect, which was pretty much obvious, there was just something about them that screamed I’m not from here that you always noticed.

Perhaps it was the way most of you were programmed to be colder than most of the countryside people, always being respectful and polite, but always lacking that warmness they had, most of them treating each other like friends or family, while all of you were from the exterior, uninvited guests that one day would leave, and knowing your place, all of you said thank you, hello and goodbye without smiling or eye contact.

It wasn’t that bad for you thought, you had already told yourself to not be involved with people at all if it wasn’t necessary to avoid useless problems, but again, you were only a girl, and Gyeong-ah was just a girl too, and girls, as much as you tried to deny it, feel easily alone.

You met while buying groceries, and you knew immediately she was from Seoul because instead of choosing the detergent almost all the residents there bought, which had a powerful, almost heavy aroma of flowers to mask the sea smell, she chose the softer version without aroma that most girls that lived alone in Seol used to not mess with your perfumes.

You didn’t wear perfume, you never liked it, but you recognized the brand as if it was general knowledge taught at school.

‘’You’re from Seoul’’ you said before you could think it, and it wasn’t a question at all, it was a fact that she, when she heard it, couldn’t even deny because she recognized you too.

‘’You too’’ she said, and suddenly you had a friend.

Just as city girls, you two knew how to talk to each other, never crossing lines and being as cordial as you could, wanting to know but never digging too deep unless you were sure the other deserved to know delicate information about yourselves.

In a month you became best friends, and you started to like to live there, the grey color the area had wasn’t as grey anymore, taking a brighter variation now, almost becoming white, as white as her ceilings, or as the smile she sometimes showed you.

Both of you had really white teeth from performing as perfect city girls before arriving there, religiously visiting the dentist to get expensive treatments at least twice a year and using the famous toothpaste that girl group promoted on TV between music shows, with the phrase ‘’a pretty smile is a pretty heart’’ pushing half the population to buy it, effective, an incredibly overpriced.

Both of you stopped using it, but you respected how it still showed its results.

‘’The supermarket is opening a new position as a cashier, you could come if you want, you receive discounts as an employee’’ she said to the air when you were rambling about almost not having enough savings.

Even if it was the countryside and rent wasn’t even half of what you paid before, with everything you spent after unsuccessfully trying to fit the beauty standards when you lived there, your savings weren’t enough to live unemployed for too much time.

Next week you, instead of waking up to take a little walk before breakfast, now got ready to go to work and be a useful human being to society again.

And with that, both of you took a step further into your friendship, being able to reveal, after drinking a couple of beers, why you escaped from the city.

Gyeong-ah told you everything, from the pretty sequence of how she and her boyfriend met, to then what he did to hurt her, and how she suffered until she had to go through all those surgeries before she moved to Busan.

You told her everything too, how your boss pushed his hand under your skirt, how you reported it and how everyone looked at you as if you were crazy, ‘’She’s the one that reported the sexual assault case? She should be grateful anyone wanted to fuck her’’, and how, being completely alone, you were bullied until you had to quit.

‘’I was the first place in my class’’ she said.

‘’I closed the best deal the company ever had’’ you said.

Both of you cried until you fell slept together on her bed, and only woke up because both of you had to get ready for work.

It didn’t take long for you to get used to your new job, you were already a seller before arriving there, you knew how to talk to people and how to fake a good smile, charming customers into buying products they didn’t need and quickly gaining the manager approbation, because, after all, as everyone said, you were a good girl.

Sadly, Gyeong-ah didn’t have the same luck, and you understood her, she studied to do something different with her life, and you did it too, but she was younger and never had to learn how to make people love her before because she was incredibly gorgeous, but now that beauty wasn’t as useful anymore, and not knowing how to pretend as much as you, she couldn’t gain the appreciation you did, getting more scolds than praises.

It was on one occasion that her inexperience got her into a big argument with a client, and sadly you saw the first crack of your friendship appear.

That client was demanding a refund for a product without the receipt, and you wanted to run to her and repeat how you also couldn’t find the purchase on the system, but that woman was screaming so bad you got flashbacks of your boss’s wife screaming at you to take back the complaint, how her husband would never touch a disgusting pig like you (calling you that when she was as fat, to not say more, than you), and how you should just ruin your own life if you wanted to ruin someone’s.

She had the same voice tone, and even looked exactly like her, with dark red lipstick, a failed perm and all those cheap accessories, she was her spitting image.

You couldn’t move, watching the situation happen from afar, feet stuck to the floor and hands shaking, you repeated inside your mind to go and help her, to take her side, but you couldn’t, and making eye contact with one of the boys from the fish section when he walked in front of you, you closed your eyes to ignore the situation and not feel as pathetic as you did.

Later, when your break came, you went out to breathe as much air as you could, and trying to erase the memory of the past moment from your mind, you tried to think what could you do to apologize to Gyeong-ah.

Out there, between a couple of cars, in the middle of the immense parking lot, you tried to hide so no one saw you spiraling into a thousand thoughts, and there, almost breaking down, you stopped yourself from doing it when you saw the guy from before talking to that woman.

It looked as if she wanted to discuss with him too. He was beside her car, and she started to get closer to him while talking, you couldn’t hear it, but you saw her mouth moving as fast as before.

You were about to get closer to hear them, but you stopped once you saw a disgusting string of saliva being spit on the concrete by him.

It was so long and thick that you didn’t doubt it was a consequence of all those cigarettes he smoked every day.

You didn’t smoke, but Gyeong-ah did, and sometimes the smoke got impregnated in your clothes, so you could easily identify the Marlboro smell of the pack the two of them chose all the time, but he, unlike Gyeong-ah, had a smell a lot stronger.

Your thoughts were left aside once you saw the woman moving around nervous and he trying to take her phone. What the hell, you thought, and you were about to intervene when the woman jumped into her car and drove away.

Making eye contact with him again, he watched you for a couple of seconds before he turned around and completely ignored you, continuing to smoke his cigarette in peace.

‘’I don’t have time for this’’, you whispered to yourself and walked inside to talk with Gyeong-ah and not overthink anymore.

The first crack wasn’t deep, she said she understood it, and you hugged before finishing your shift and going back home to drink and badmouth that terrible woman, especially you, not thinking much of the woman from the supermarket, but of your boss’s wife.

She laughed while hearing all the insults you had about her appearance, going to sleep with a smile on her face and telling you that she would understand if the situation happened again because it wasn’t your fault, or hers, it was theirs for not understanding you two.

Little cracks continued to appear on the frame of your friendship, but it was still solid enough to survive everything.

At least, until Sangnim appeared, and completely smashed it to leave no trace of it.

That fucking bastard, as you used to call him, ruined everything with his existence.

The minute you saw him you knew something was off with him, you couldn’t help but notice small details when the two of them gave you a lift home, sensing the aroma of a perfume you used to smell a lot in Seoul inside his car, it was impossible Gyeong-ah was the only woman riding it, and you tried to slip a question without looking suspicious.

‘’Sangmin-ah, do you have sisters? I can’t believe how much you understand my Gyeong-ah’’ you said with a smile.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror and showed you a wide grin.

‘’I don’t have any sisters, but you’re so sweet, I really try to take care of Gyeong-ah as much as I can, she deserves it’’ he answered immediately.

‘’You’re right, she deserves it’’ you repeated, still smiling.

Shut the fuck off, you contained yourself from saying that out loud, nodding and looking around to find any other clue.

You couldn’t find anything, but he was definitely a cheater, and you, not having any solid proof, didn’t know how to break the news, so you pretended to not know anything to find the correct moment to say it.

Still, you left little comments every now and then, not blaming him, but leaving a trail of doubts around, doubts that sadly were never enough for Gyong-ah, fracturing too much your relationship.

You even thought that maybe you were exaggerating too, maybe deep inside you just tried to find a reason for her to end things with him, he was never going to stay, he said it before when you three had dinner, he’d go back to Seoul next year, and contrary to all predictions, thanks to your friendship, you liked it here enough to stay.

The future wasn’t bright at all, but it was enough for you, maybe in a couple of years you could escalate to a better position, you’d get benefits, you would walk around the beach every Sunday morning, and then you’d go and have breakfast with Gyeong-ah.

You had to apologize, for the sake of your friendship.

However, you didn’t have to, or more than that, you could never do it, because three days later Gyeong-ah passed away.

Waking up in your free day, you sent her a text to ask for an hour of her time to talk, but she didn’t answer in fifteen minutes, and you just knew something was wrong.

Taking a cab to her house, you saw the ashes all around, and how her room was the one who started it.

‘’It seems the oven was on’’ you heard one firefighter say.

Dropping to your knees, you denied it, because she always checked everything at least three times before going to sleep, it didn’t matter how drunk she was, she would check the door, the kitchen, and would unplug her phone charger from the wall.

‘’I saw on the news that chargers can get on fire’’ she said, and you laughed in her face because that only happened once every thousand times, ‘’Well, with my luck, I could be that one time.’’

‘’Shut up’’ you said while knocking three times on her wooden headboard.

It had to be him, it had to be him, it’s the only answer, she would never do it, she wouldn’t let her oven on in a million times, they didn’t know her like you did, and sadly, soon no one would remember her like you did.

Calling her mother was the hardest part, you couldn’t remember how the hug of a mother felt in real life, and when she wrapped you into her arms, you broke down with her, because even if you didn’t know her, Gyeong-ah had been telling her about you, always finishing the calls with the same sentence, ‘’Don’t worry mom, my friend’s is taking care of me here.’’

‘’I’m so sorry, I should’ve taken more care of her, I’m so sorry’’ you repeated in her arms, and her mother denied it, saying how that wasn’t your fault at all, but you felt as it was, because you could've stopped her from seeing him, you should’ve stopped her the minute you figured him out.

You didn’t, and it didn’t matter how many nights passed, you couldn’t sleep with the guilt consuming you.

Looking at the beach at night one day, not being able to sleep again, you remembered how the first day you arrived you were told to never go to the sea at night, and right there, you understood why that driver told you that.

For the first time ever, you thought that maybe, maybe, you should just get lost in it, like the fishers, like the tourists, like the innocents.

You weren’t none of them, none of them deserved it, but you were convinced you did.

And you were about to go meet her, until you realized that, there, on earth, you could continue taking care of her, because even if she wasn’t there with you anymore, you could do what was necessary to make Sangmin pay for what he did.

You wouldn’t survive another I should’ve, so you would do it, you would do what was necessary, and nothing would stop you.

Finding Sangmin’s information wasn’t hard, you just had to do a couple of clicks on the internet, and you had everything you could need.

If only you had done that before, but you refused to go back into social media, all your profiles were flooded with hate comments from people you used to work with, or your boss’s family, or people who didn’t know anything at all but felt the right to talk about your body, and she had also deleted all kind of social media for a similar reason, so none of you knew how he was about to get married, and how you had been right about the smell of her fiance's perfume and all the little comments you had left around.

It was simply impossible how they met was a coincidence, getting sex extorted just like Gyeong-ah? He knew how to get close to her and break down her walls, he planned everything, and finally, you had no doubt about doing something.

You planned to wait for him out of his job, you wanted to do it quick and easy, and no one would suspect you, you looked like a good girl, you were a good girl, you were one until he appeared and stole the little family you had, he stole your whole life, and you would do it too.

With a knife in hand, you waited for him to get out of work, and you thought that he would drive his car, but he didn’t, so you followed him down the dark street to an unknown place.

Gripping onto your weapon, you felt your heart punching your ribcage, nervous as never before.

I can do it, I can do it, you repeated inside your mind, trying to convince you again.

But you couldn’t, and entering an alley, letting him go, you started to cry while hugging your knees, apologizing to Gyeong-ah for not being able to do anything for her.

You felt a cold sensation touch your nape and you jumped away from it surprised, looking up at the sky night and watching the guy from work you never liked.

‘’Drink this’’ he pushed the water bottle to your face, almost obliging you to take it, and your heart started to beat again, knowing he had seen what you tried to do, knife on the floor easily to differentiate even in the dark.

‘’Gyeong… Su?’’ you tried to remember his name.

‘’Go home, sleep, and tomorrow go to work, the manager keeps calling you and leaving messages, your position is still yours’’ he said, almost immediately walking away, but you stopped him gripping his jeans.

‘’You saw me’’ you affirmed,

‘’I did’’ he didn’t try to lie.

‘’Don’t you think I’m bad? I tried to do something really bad.’’

Your voice almost broke, and your hand on his jeans was trembling.

He looked down at you, maintaining eye contact and scanning you, and you felt as if he was inside your mind, finding exactly what he wanted to know.

‘’You’re not bad’’, he said after a long silence.

‘’You don’t know me’’, you replied as soon as he finished talking.

He shrugged and pulling apart from your grip, he talked one last time before leaving, ‘’That’s true.’’

Completely alone there, you cried again until you felt satisfied, and looking up to the dark clear sky, you apologized one last time to Gyeong-ah, and to your mom, and to you, and after drinking the whole bottle of water, you walked to the beach, burring the knife into a hole in the sand you dug with your own hands, to then go home, take a shower, and sleep.

The next day you had to go to work, and you needed to sleep at least a couple of hours.

When you arrived at work the next day you told yourself to completely ignore Gyeong-su, not wanting to talk with someone who had seen you in such deplorable moments like the ones you had.

However, again, you were just a girl, and not having anyone around you anymore, he was the closest thing to intimacy you had.

The relationship you had wasn’t deep enough to be called a friendship, he rarely talked about himself, only keeping you company when he smoked a cigarette in his break and when his turn finished.

You can’t remember how you started to get closer to him, you just remember seeing him smoke near the plastic table behind the supermarket, near the entrance in which all trucks left the daily order of products, and sitting next to him in silence, missing the smell of the Marlboro Gyeong-ah used to smoke.

Somehow, it brought you a calm feeling, and your mind stopped thinking, becoming a blank sheet that didn’t need to be filled with anything, not memories of her, or your past life in Seoul, or Sangmin, only breathing and watching the ugly metallic green bars that surrounded the place as if it was a prison, separating it from the outside world.

He didn’t mind you staying there, and days after days, you started to notice his presence around more often inside the supermarket, and the little behaviors he had.

‘’A man of few words’’, you called him when he didn’t answer your question if he was from Seoul too, thing he never acknowledged, but it was too obvious.

He didn’t have the province dialect, he had a soft way of slurring words whenever the manager or his superior in the fish section made him questions, like most boys in the city did, especially those who worked as part-timers in convenience stores, a polite but tired tone, and you were sure he had received some kind of superior education because when you carried a copy of Justice written by Michael Sandel, he followed it with his eyes until you pushed it inside your bag.

‘’Those who insist that only bleeding wounds should count believe that post-traumatic stress reflects a weakness of character unworthy of honor. Those who believe that psychological wounds should qualify argue that veterans suffering long-term trauma and severe depression have sacrificed for their country as surely, and as honorably, as those who’ve lost a limb’’ you quoted the next day while he lighted his second cigarette and seemed more relaxed next to you.

‘’I’m too dumb for that’’ was the only thing he said before exhaling a long line of smoke.

You don’t know why, but after hearing him so sure while saying that, and after such a long time, you were able to laugh again.

Things were slightly getting better after two months, you could sleep at least four hours now, and you were doing things again, not only staring at your TV when you arrived home. You opened old books she had left at your house, cleaned your place more, and ate proper meals, and you still cried, but at least you were able to smile when you saw pictures of her in your phone.

Still, there were moments in which you crumbled, and one of them was when you heard what happened to Sangmin a long time ago, only a couple days after you tried to do… that.

You heard it from one of the clients, how weird things were happening, first the death of a former worker there in the supermarket, and then the death of her boyfriend, and how now there were other two girls dead.

‘’This never happened before those people started to move here’’ her companion, another elderly woman said, and of course they referred to the people like you, people that weren’t born or grew up there, but you couldn’t help but only think in what you had heard about Sangmin.

Sangmin was dead, and what should’ve brought you joy for fair karma, instead made you hide in the warehouse, crying and spiraling into your thoughts about Gyeong-ah, and how you didn’t even make an effort to make sure she got her real justice, cleaning her name from everyone’s mouths.

‘’What’s going on?’’ you heard Gyeong-su’s voice come from behind the shelf you were leaning to.

‘’He-He’s dead’’ you answered, you didn’t need much to think of how to phrase it, he knew who you were referring to.

‘’Isn’t that what you wanted?’’ he asked you.

You stayed silent, muffled cries hiding in your knees.

‘’I don’t know, but I’m hurting so much, and all I keep thinking about is how Gyeong-ah must have suffered more than me when she left this place, and how I’ll never be able to know if he received what he deserved, even more, how because of that I’ll never be able to clean her name, and now no one will remember her as clearly as I do’’ you then confessed.

Feeling like a sinner telling a priest all of her secrets, you felt as if something had left your chest free, your mind finally was out there, formed into words and tears, and you didn’t see his face, but that let you speak your mind even more free.

‘’I see’’ he murmured, ‘’and you’ve thought that all this time, I guess.’’

‘’Yes,’’ everything was out, your tears sliding down your cheeks and your body lighter, almost numb.

‘’Well, you shouldn’t compare your pain, or hers, or his, each of you went through things none of you three know, she doesn’t know how you’re mourning her death, you don’t know how she suffered the process of it, and none of you know how he suffered his, those are things none of you will ever know, so it’s okay if you hurt, but you don’t have to think much into what he deserved, because you’ll never have an answer, and you shouldn’t condition what you feel into an answer you’ll never receive.’’

You sniffed your tears, looking at the packages of toilet paper in front of you, wishing you could take one to clean your face.

‘’And I do remember her, not as clearly as you do, of course, no one will, she was your friend, but I remember she liked to buy fresh tuna every Friday to eat with you, she always had a blank face when the manager scolded her or when she talked to rude clients, and she would rarely smile, but with you, she would do it in front of others sometimes.’’

You exhaled.

That was exactly her, she liked tuna when you hated it, and you picked on her for having an old man's taste buds, you preferred chicken over it, but you let her win every time one of you had to choose, and yeah, she did stare blankly at others, including you, but if it was a good day, she would smiled at you with those white pearls she had inside her mouth.

Feeling as if some heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders, you exhaled and let your head fall to the shelf you were leaning into.

‘’You two were the city pair’’ he finished, making you laugh.

‘’You’re also a city boy’’ you said, and he coughed, ‘’and you’re a liar, you said you were dumb.’’

‘’I am, I never understood that book’’ he said before grabbing the box between you two, lifting it, and going out, leaving you there alone.

You felt as if finally, you had taken a step in the right direction, moving from your position, you cleaned your tears with the ugly blue vest, too hard for your cheeks, and waking you up with the pain.

A week later another girl died, and your boss had to organize a meeting.

‘’It seems the current situation is getting dangerous, especially for young girls, so the superiors have ordered all the women to leave while the sun is still up’’ he said, and you don’t know if it was because of an empathy people from where you grew up didn’t have, but you got surprised when none of the men argued with it, everyone nodding in unison.

You had permission to leave early, so you did it, not being able to share Gyeong-su’s company when your turn finished, only seeing each other in the first break.

‘’You’ll miss me’’ you said the first day, and he never made any sound to acknowledge your silly jokes, but this time he let a soft snicker, almost imperceptible, that made you smile too.

You tried to always do what you were told to, so you left before the sun went down, but that day you were in charge of counting merchandise in the warehouse, so you didn’t see how late it was until you checked your phone.

It was even later than the time for everyone to leave, so you quickly grabbed your things, said good night to your male coworkers, and left.

You tried to not get paranoid with the news, they specified that the killer only directed its attention to pretty girls, loving long legs and soft features.

Gyeong-ah and Sangmin cases were mentioned every now and then to repeat how dangerous things were getting, but they were never related to the girl’s deaths, being two different situations.

That’s why, you tried to convince yourself you would be okay, you didn’t share any of the characteristics the killer loved in their victims, and he supermarket wasn’t far from your house, but you didn’t dare to walk alone anymore between all the buildings, so you waited for a cab to appear and take you home.

You made sure to always be careful when you were alone, yes you took cabs, but you always had a pen on your hand and your phone ready to call 119 in the other, checking the routes and if the driver looked at you too much.

Everything was okay, you were already relaxed when you saw your building in front of you, so you shoved your things in your bag, pulled out the bill, and paid, walking home with an easy mind.

You never thought you would get snatched right next to your door.

With a hand on your mouth and the other on your tummy, you felt how you were dragged into the alley next to your building, darkness surrounding you while you felt a disgusting presence behind you.

The one who pulled you in was a man, taller than you, with big hands and an erection already ready to make your worst nightmare real.

You started to cry, muffled by his gloved hand, you couldn’t say anything when you heard his voice calling you sweet treat, ordering you to be silent if you didn’t want things to get ugly.

Begging Gyeong-ah, your mother, and God to send you help, you nodded when he said he would let you go if you were good.

‘’Promise?’’ he murmured.

‘’Promise’’ you agreed, closing your eyes and letting his hand cup your pussy with force, not making a single sound, only trembling with tears running down your cheeks.

He pushed your face to the wall and made you show him your bubbly ass, touching it as much as he wanted without an ounce of shame.

You thought this is it, my karma, repeating inside your head how this was your punishment for all the things you should and shouldn’t have done.

The man couldn’t even open the button of your jeans before you heard a loud bang and his body fell to the floor.

Staying in your position, you pressed your face to your hands and didn’t dare to turn around to see what was making all that noise, it was metallic, and it didn’t stop even when the man didn’t make a single noise anymore.

When things got silent, you, still trembling, turned your head to see what, or who stopped the man.

You never expected to see Gyeong-su covered in black clothes from head to toe, paint all over the floor, covering the man's body and face, and the can totally smashed and tossed to the side.

‘’Uh?’’ was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

‘’I knew he was going to come for you, this sick bastard’’ he said.

You didn’t understand why he thought that, and watching your white sneakers get ruined with the blood and the red paint, you started to cry even more, still in silence.

‘’It’s okay, you’re okay’’ he said, giving you your messed bag and, once again, leaving you alone.

You called the police, the number still there on your screen ready to only press the green button, and when you did it, you said your direction as clearly as you could.

‘’Did you see who did it?’’ one of the officers asked you, and you stayed silent for a good minute before answering.

‘’I didn’t’’ then you said.

The two cops keeping you company looked at each other and then the one writing things down nodded.

‘’I see’’ was the only thing he said before leaving you alone.

You didn’t have much to do, the man was dead, and now nothing could be done.

Was that justice? You thought.

They immediately recognized him as the killer, he had a patron, pretty girls who lived alone, and all the bodies showed the same signs of abuse before dying.

Perhaps he had lied to all of them, and he had lied to you, convincing you that if you did no sound you would live, but you’d have died just like them at the end.

But did he deserve to die? Just like Sangmin, wasn’t there another way to get justice for your pain? For yours, Gyeong-ah’s, and all those girls’.

Still, what you knew was that, even if it was contrary to all your values, knowing how valuable life was, Gyeong-su didn’t deserve any punishment, he had saved you, and justice for you, was that he continued free out there.

The next day before you went to work, you saw rests of the red paint still over the cement, thin layers already dry after so many hours, cracked with the breeze of the sea, and you thought how, if Gyeong-su hadn’t saved you yesterday, what anyone else would have seen in daylight was your cold body lying out there.

All your coworkers hugged you when you arrived, and your manager told you to take the day off if you needed, but you couldn’t go back home or you’d start to overthink things again, if what you did was the correct thing to do, if he deserved to die like that, if you were a killer too, taking into account how you saved Gyeong-su’s secret.

When the first break came you walked out to the plastic table, but Gyeong-su wasn’t there, and hugging your coat, you sat to wait for him, but he didn’t come.

He avoided you for days, and you thought the pseudo-friendship you had was over, until a detective arrived and started to make questions about what had happened to you that day.

‘’You really didn’t see who did it?’’ he asked, and you denied again, already used to say that lie as if it was an unchanging truth, ‘’Do you mind if I walk around here a little bit?’’

You didn’t have a reason to say no, but your eyes caught how Gyeong-su opened the curtain separating the counter from the freezer where all the fish waited to be cut and packed to be sold, and how he immediately took a step back, not letting himself be seen.

You don’t know why, but you knew Gyeong-su didn’t want that detective to see him.

‘’I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to see any more cops lurking around, he’s dead, and looking at you only brings me back the bad memories of that night’’ you didn’t know why you said something like that, it didn’t make any sense, all the older ladies loved to see the cops near, feeling a lot safer, but you didn’t know what else to say to make them leave.

His younger companion frowned and was about to say something before the detective stopped him and nodded, leaving you his card and telling you to call him in case you ever needed help or remembered something.

You didn’t answer, shoving it into one of the numerous pockets your vest had, and turned your back to continue writing down the stock you were counting.

‘’Ugly girls should learn how to talk prettily at least’’ you heard the younger say.

‘’Shut up, she’s a victim, she doesn’t have to entertain you with pretty words’’ the older quickly replied, ‘’and you don’t know what you’re saying, her face is very pretty.’’

Jand Nam-gam, you read in the card he left you.

He seemed like the kind of person who was only respected by the people who were near him, used to receive no as answers, and a bit blunt and unsophisticated, from the city, just like you, but without the calm and respectable vibe a detective from there usually had, and too honest and correct to survive there for long.

When you went out for your break a couple of hours later you saw Gyeong-su sitting on the table, smoking and waiting for you.

You sat next to him and for the first time, you showed him your palm, asking for a cigarette too.

Without looking at you, he gave you the one he was smoking, still new and ready for you to take it.

Your fingers brushed his when he gave it to you, and you tried to not think much about it, but you always thought too much, so to shut your mind up, you inhaled the cancer stick and held it as long as you could, slowly letting the grey cloud appear in front of your face.

The city had the same grey color it used to have before Gyeong-ah, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay there.

Your imagination wasn’t filled with a future there, you didn’t want to walk around the beach anymore, you had no one eating breakfast with you in your head, and you were afraid every time your turn finished and you had to go back home, running the few steps to open your building door, and only feeling safe once you checked that your oven was off and you put a chair behind your secured door.

‘’I didn’t ask for your help’’ he then said.

‘’Me neither’’ you answered.

He nodded, still looking at the metallic bars surrounding you.

‘’How did you know I didn’t want him to see me’’ he asked, breathing the air and pushing his hands inside his apron pockets.

‘’How did you know he was going to come for me’’ you asked back.

He shrugged like every time you asked him anything he couldn’t ignore.

‘’I just knew he would come for you, after all, they said he followed pretty girls.’’

It felt completely different from when the detective said it, and you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a warm sensation reach your cold hands.

‘’I just knew it too’’ you said, tossing the rest of the stick to the floor.

It tasted like shit, and you couldn’t understand how he and Gyeong-ah smoked it every day.

‘’I won’t come to work tomorrow.’’

You felt incredibly alone again, you knew he meant that he wouldn’t come back, he would, again, leave you there on your own.

‘’Can you walk me home today? I’m afraid of going on my own.’’

He knew why you asked him that, a goodbye, a farewell, so he nodded and told you to wait for him at the front door.

Your turn finished and then you were waiting for him right where he had told you, a good girl following his words exactly like he wanted.

You stayed there, hands playing with the leather strap of your bag, the bag you used when you lived in Seoul, too noisy in the province, reason why you preferred to go around with your canvas tote bag, a lot more discreet and common, but that one had been ruined with the red paint that day, and just like your white sneakers, you had to toss it away.

When he appeared he nodded at you, indicating you with a tilt of his head to lead the way.

You two walked on silent, you couldn’t make any question or comment or silly joke, and it was obvious, by the grip on your bag, that you were nervous.

He noticed it, and pulling out his hand from the pocket of his bomber jacket, he grabbed your left hand and held it all the way to your house.

You felt incredibly calm, thinking how you shouldn’t because you knew, deep down, that he was dangerous. It was impossible, by the fear of facing the detective, that he hadn’t killed more people, and it was clear he was being followed.

That makes sense, you thought, if you weren’t sent to that province because of work, like Sangmin, you were hiding, and he was just like Gyeong-ah and you, escaping from things that had happened in the past, or perhaps, things that were still happening now.

But you hadn’t felt so safe in so long, because you knew that, with him, nothing would snatch you next to your house, and that no one would be able to enter your house, or that your oven was never going to magically explode.

With him by your side everything was okay, you were okay, and that was enough to make all those preoccupations disappear.

When you got to your entrance you let his hand go to open the principal door with your key, and he was behind you, observing you, you could feel his eyes on the back of your head, but when you turned to him, he let his eyes fall to the floor.

‘’Do you want to drink some coffee?’’ you asked, and he nodded, following you inside and walking up the stairs until you got to your little apartment.

It wasn’t amazing, but it was yours. You didn’t have an elevator, and you always had to go up to the fifth floor to let your clothes dry with a big basket, but it was okay, you liked your building, your neighbors were quiet, and you felt safe and sound there. Until that happened.

Inside your room you let him close the door for you, and you didn’t feel the need to immediately put the secure on, leaving your coat on the hanger instead, and taking off your shoes, you walked to your little kitchen, putting water in an electric kettle to boil it.

You could cook in your kitchen, but you never used the oven, and you preferred the electric kettle over the traditional one because once the water was done, it would automatically turn off.

Then you sat on the floor, leaving two cups, sugar and coffee over the little wooden table you had, and turning on the TV, you looked at him in the eyes until he sat beside you on the floor.

He was wearing an ugly grey sweater that kind of smelled like fish, mascaraed with what you identified as the cheap deodorant you sold in the store, but you were used to the fish smell he had, so you didn’t mind.

‘’Do you mind if I take a shower?’’ He said not much after.

You nodded, the news had just started, and you mindlessly changed the channel to try to find anything interesting.

‘’Sure, there are towels in the cabinet, I’ll get you some clothes, they’re mine, but I’m sure they’ll fit you’’ you said, and he didn’t waste a second to walk to your bathroom.

You gulped while changing the channels, you knew what you were going to do, but you hadn’t done it in so long, you needed a second to recognize what that sensation forming on your abdomen was.

You hadn’t done anything at all, and you felt yourself already getting wet inside your panties.

The click the jug did after the water was done caught your attention and you stood up to get the water, pulling out the cord from the plug, but knowing you had to get him his clothes, you walked to your little closet to find a t-shirt and some pants that could fit him.

He wasn’t buff at all, but he was lean, a normal guy there, not fat, not big, not small, and taller than normal, so you decided to find the biggest clothes you had.

You were choosing when you heard the door open and you felt him walking behind you, hands surrounding your waist and wetting your back with the drops that were still sliding down his chest.

‘’I chose this’’ you said, lifting the clothes so he could see them, feeling his breath touch the side of your neck and his nose brushing your skin.

‘’I’ll wear them later then’’ he answered, pushing you to your closed closet and making you turn to him.

You weren’t that short, but just then you noticed how much taller than you he was. He made you lift your eyes to him with a touch to your hands, taking the clothes from your hands and letting them fall to the floor.

‘’I- I don’t remember much how this was… it’s been years for me’’ you admitted, and he nodded.

‘’It’s been years for me too’’ he said, not as ashamed as you.

With the same hand that tossed the clothes, he made you look at him and accept his mouth over yours, taking the lead in the kiss and erasing all your thoughts.

It felt good, his lips were chapped, and he had the taste of smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t mind, it finally tasted good, and moving your hands to his neck, you let him press his body against yours, the lower half of his body only covered by one of your towels.

He wasn’t hard, but you could feel something poking at the front of your jeans, and you wanted him to lay on your bed, so after a couple of long minutes, and just after he had enough of your mouth, you murmured something.

‘’Let’s go to my bed’’ you begged with hazy eyes and weak legs, leaning onto him, who was holding you with his body against your closet doors.

He nodded, and taking your hand, he guided you there, making you sit and look up to him.

Your lights were on, and you felt nervous, you had never had sex with the lights on, you only had a couple of partners, and they always turned them off before fucking you.

‘’You can turn off the lights if you want’’ you said, looking at him in the eyes.

He didn’t answer, his hand went to your cheek, and he pressed the tips of his fingers over your skin, caressing it and then brushing your wet lips after all his kisses, slightly red and plump thanks to the way his lips covered them.

He didn’t acknowledge what you said, bending down to retake the contact between both mouths.

Full of life, unlike his usual demeanor, eager, he pushed you to your back, making you receive him between your legs.

Slightly harder, you felt the border of his boner only covered by the fabric damp your jeans, but he didn’t stop kissing you, one hand lying on your neck and the other helping him stay still over you to not let all his weight crush you.

You opened your legs as much as you could with the jeans stopping you from going too far.

‘’You know what I’ll do to you’’ he said after a minute.

You nodded.

‘’I won’t stop’’ he warned.

‘’I don’t want you to’’ you answered.

You knew no one was going to save you from that place, it wasn’t his job, so you’d accept this as enough, and you’d let him go without resentment and an I should’ve done it.

‘’Will you be okay?’’ he asked, afraid of hurting you more.

‘’I want this to happen’’ you said, making him look at you, caress your cheek once again, and give you another kiss before his hands went to your button and helped you take your jeans off.

Sliding the clothing off your legs, he pushed your thighs wide open, and feeling the texture of the towel, his now hard cock against your clothed clit made you whimper.

‘’It feels good’’ you said, to what he agreed with you.

‘’It feels good’’ he affirmed.

He did soft movements to stimulate you with his cock, only letting you feel what would soon be inside you.

Looking at your eyes flutter, he pushed up your shirt, showing him your black bra hugging your chest.

Touching the skin uncovered by your cups, he pressed his thumb to see how far it could sink into your skin.

Your chest was bigger than normal, just like your tummy, but he liked it, it looked comforting and soft, perfect for him to rest a little bit, after his exhausting life, it looked like a taste of paradise.

You pushed his hands while taking your shirt off without asking, to then unhook your bra and toss it to the floor.

‘’Touch me properly’’ you said, making him snicker.

You had forgotten how that little grin looked like, and you smiled when it appeared again.

‘’Okay,’’ he replied, unabashedly grabbing both tits and groping them, looking at how the skin flooded his grip between fingers, and feeling good with both sensations, his cock against your cunt, and his hands in your chest, you closed your eyes and moaned, moving your head to your side and cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He didn’t let you hide yourself for long, making you open your mouth for him and pushing his tongue inside your mouth, obliging you to let the moans out.

Your panties were incredibly wet, and he left one of your tits free to sneak a hand inside them.

Juices gladly receiving him, he groaned when he felt you dripping all over his fingers.

Without asking, just like when you took your shirt, he introduced a finger.

You cried with his mouth over yours.

His finger was long, and it sent a delicious shock to your core, making you frown at how good it felt.

‘’More’’ you begged, and he gladly obliged, pushing one more finger to make scissoring motions and prepare you for him.

‘’Shit, it’s begging for it’’ he groaned when he heard how much your insides were squelching, asking for him to fill you up.

‘’Yes, yes’’ you cried, listening to his nasty approbations telling you how good you’d take him, and how much he couldn’t wait to fill that sweet pussy of yours.

Fucking you with his fingers, you moaned as much as you wanted, not caring to hide anymore, it was your only night with him, so you decided to not hold anything.

His mouth went to your nipple, tits falling to the sides of how heavy they were and shaking with his attention to your cunt.

He licked them, first with just the tip of his tongue, but then let it flat so it covered your buds and made you shake even more.

‘’Su- so good’’ you cried.

His fingers were making you dizzy, and you had to get up on your elbows to see his hand inside your panties moving to make you cum.

It was hard to see yourself like that, so naked, so exposed.

You couldn’t hide the way your tummy rolls were in front of his eyes, the marks on your skin, or the way your big tits didn’t look perfect on your body, but he seemed to not care, even liking it, guiding his mouth to your nipples again and looking into your eyes when he left soft pecks over them.

‘’You’re going to cum for me, right?’’ he murmured when you started to clench over him.

‘’I-I don’t know’’ you cried, never having an orgasm with your partners before, you didn’t know if that was an orgasm, or what the hell was it.

‘’You’re going to’’ he didn’t ask, ‘’and it’s because of my fingers, so good’’ he pushed his fingers faster and harder, stretching your panties with how brutal he was.

You couldn’t maintain your position and dropped over your back, crying with your walls pulsating around him.

‘’That’s it, so fucking good, my good girl’’ he said still moving his fingers.

You tried to push his hand away, eyes rolling to the back of your head and tears falling down your cheeks of overstimulation, and he stopped when you left a singular loud cry out, but only to take off your messed underwear and toss the towel wrapping his hips.

He let you take a second to breathe properly again, and pushing up your legs, he made you show him your glossy cunt, lips open and ready for him.

He couldn’t help it, it was all shiny and pretty, he had to taste it a little bit, and sinking to his knees over the floor, he pulled your body to the border of the bed, mouth going directly to your pussy.

Drinking your orgasm, the slurping sound was so nasty you had to put your hands over your face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘’That’s too much’’ you tried to stop him, but he, mouth still stuck to your entrance, and nose poking at your clit, denied with his head, smearing your arousal over his face.

‘’You have no idea all the things I want to do to you’’ he replied, pushing his thumb to your opening, and pressing his tongue over your clit this time.

You cried, hands going to his wet hair and trying to pull him away, but he was stronger than you, and you never had a chance to stop him.

You couldn’t fight him, so you wanted to finish quickly instead, hips jolting to feel him more and grasp that sweet second orgasm you felt coming.

About to call his name, he separated and said something before going back to his work.

‘’Lee Tang’’ he said, and that was enough for you to know what he meant.

That was his name, not Gyeong-su, but Lee Tang, and you thought, that fits him a lot more.

‘’Lee… Tang’’ you said as you could, and then the only thing that came out of your mouth was a ton of Tang, Tang, repeating proudly his real name.

You were so close that you could feel your toes curling, walls ready to let your orgasm free and relax again, and your back was curving, your body needing to cum once again because of him.

But he was so cruel.

He stopped, and getting up his knees, he thumbed your clit, flicking the little button a couple of times before he slid his dick between your lips, making you feel his length resting over you.

‘’Please, I’m so close, please’’ you saw the light of your room above him, watching his dark eyes examine you, searching for another answer in your eyes.

You left a disappointed cry when he, instead of touching, walked away to grab his jacket hung next to yours, and sitting, you saw him pull a little box from his pocket.

So that’s why he made me wait for him outside, you thought, he didn’t want you to see what he was buying.

Opening the film package, you saw him sliding the condom over his member with experience, walking back at you and showing you how it looked, slightly jumping over the air, standing hard and thick, and pushing you to your back again, he pressed his tip on your entrance, making you clench over it, and nodded to your past pleading. ‘’You deserve it’’ he said before pushing his member inside.

He didn’t let you adjust, but you didn’t need it, you just wanted him to keep moving, and soon that soft pace wasn’t enough for you.

‘’Fuck’’ you couldn’t hold the curses in your throat.

It felt so good, the weight of his member inside, pushing the limits of your walls, taking what he wanted from you, it was so good your hands searched for something of him to grip, finding his hands over your hips to maintain you in your place for him.

‘’Tang, so good, please make me cum’’ you cried.

One of his hands interlocked with yours, helping you find comfort between all the intense sensations your insides were feeling.

You looked so good under him, your chubby torse facing him, showing him everything he wanted to see, and your thighs jiggling with each of his thrusts.

You were close, and so was he, but he needed something more, a little thing that had been wandering inside his mind since he started to see you differently.

‘’Can you turn for me?’’ he asked, needing to see your pretty ass taking him.

Not answering, you immediately crawled further in your bed, and searching for your pillow, you hugged it, pressing your face to your bedsheets and showing him your ass without any ounce of shame left.

‘’Fuck me’’ you begged again, opening your lips with your fingers and showing him your entrance gaping around nothing, ‘’Tang, please fuck me.’’

His breath stopped, he had never seen something that bold and hot before, and he admired your needy side calling for him to calm you.

Going to you, he pushed his entire length inside, bottoming out and pushing it inside in a single thrust to see your gorgeous back and thick thighs trembling with his cock.

You were crying and hugging your pillow, shoulders becoming smaller and one of your hands on your back searching for his to hold it again.

Lee Tang, not daring to ignore you, his good girl, like that, held your hand.

‘’You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you, and now you can’t take it?’’ he teased, not liking how much he was spoiling you.

‘’No, I can take it, please don’t stop’’ you implored, feeling his hard and fast thrusts pushing your sanity away.

He didn’t care how weak he was to you, feeling your walls wrapping around him like that was like nothing he had felt before, watching the curves of your waist interrupted with your little fat rolls, your ass bouncing against his pelvis with his strength, taking his cock like a gift, and your hand not letting him go even with how hard he was being with you, was everything he ever needed.

Hearing your sweet moans and cries all out when you came, with your sweet walls fluttering around him, pushed the last string inside him, and he pressed his cock inside you to let everything out in the condom.

‘’Tang-‘’ you gripped his hand harder.

‘’Yes baby, I’m cumming’’ he exhaled, letting all inside you.

‘’Okay’’ you said happy.

He wished he could stay connected to you forever, but he couldn’t, and he had to pull out of you to make sure the condom, and you, were alright.

Going to the bathroom to toss it in the trash, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, not recognizing himself with how relaxed he looked.

Tense all the time, he saw his eyes drowsy, ready to rest the whole night.

You, lying on your side to catch your breath, hoped that he could at least spend this night with you, his last night there, but maybe that was too much to ask.

When he came you didn’t look at him, and he simply accommodated behind you, spooning you with a hand over your tummy, letting his hand land there, and sighed.

‘’Let’s get inside the covers, the night is cold’’ he murmured, and you followed his request.

Under your bedsheets, a lot warmer thanks to the fabric and his skin, your mind started to drift away, so you looked at him one last time before falling asleep, closing your eyes when he left a last kiss over your lips.

When you woke up you were alone, feeling incredibly sore, and sad.

You stood up to drink a glass of water, not thinking much about how lonely you felt, concentrating on what would you do later that day to fill your head.

Would you be able to stay? You doubted it, you had too many memories here, and maybe the driver was right, all of you would leave one day.

You were about to go back to bed when you saw a little note next to your electric kettle.

I’ll come back in three weeks was written, and you closed your eyes, happy to not be abandoned again.

You had to stay so he could find you, that was your home now.

#lee tang #lee tang x reader #a killer paradox #choi wooshik #choi woo shik smut #lee tang smut #kpop smut #kdrama smut #i have no idea what tags to put #why can't i find more fics of this man #plus size reader #chubby reader #choi wooshik smut

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mphountitled · 1 month

Note

Yes I would still love the Lee tang smut!!

Convenience Store Guy

Summary: Confronting your coworker about the weird messages you've received doesn't go as planned.

Warnings: Language, Dark Themes, Stalking, Threats, Slight!DeadDove, Gaslighting, Convenience store era cus that was the best, Unstable Tang, Smut 18+ (Minors DNI) Rough Sex, Choking, Degradation Kink, Kinda Virgin!Tang, Dom!Tang

Stalking is bad. If someone is Stalking you, 100% don't do what y/n does, please.

The more he spoke to you, the more he found it increasingly difficult to act like a good person.

“And guess what else?” The chill in your voice has nothing to do with the oppressive winter weather.

“You're pregnant.” your co-worker says.

You laugh and he laughs because you laugh.

It took a certain level of skill, Lee Tang likes to admit - being able to time exactly when you’d crane your neck back, letting your complaints reach the artificial fluorescents while he lowered his incriminating eyes to your cleavage.

“Remember that unknown number I told you about? The one that kept sending all the weird messages?” Tang hums, bopping his head as he slyly adjusts the front of his jeans, obscured by the counter.

“Shit, don't tell me you got another one,'' As the words leave his mouth, you're already handing your phone to him.

“This was sent to me last night,” You say, swinging your head away from the cash register and towards the wide windows displaying the night beyond. Anyone out there could be the person terrorising you. Anyone could be out to get you.

The text simply and succinctly read:

Wear the same colour tomorrow.

And while Lee Tang attempted to feign uncomfortable ignorance (as one might when your coworker tells you she might be getting stalked), he couldn't help but notice that you were, in fact wearing the same colour. Bright yellow.

For some inexplicable reason… you listened.

“What were you wearing?”

He already knew.

“Is that important?” You step aside, making way for the final customer to be rung up. All the while, Tang nurses an even bigger boner than before.

He did not… exactly intend for his moves to get so bold but texting you and having you listen to hus demands… the demands of a stranger… the whole thing is something akin to shooting pure heroin straight into a fresh vein.

Perhaps you weren't so innocent in the exchange.

“That's not important,” You say quietly before swinging your head towards him again, “I thought we should focus on the very real fact that I might have a stalker?”

“Maybe you should respond to the poor guy and see what he has to say- that'll be ₩5000,” While Tang entertains his customer, you immediately grab your phone before stuffing it into your back pocket. The convenience store buzzes with the exit of the final customer.

“Because entertaining a stalker is exactly what they tell us to do,” you accompany your sentence with a small eye roll.

“We don't know if it's a stalker.” Tang didn't like that term. He'd much rather prefer ‘walking you home from a distance,’

“All this guy has done so far is send a couple weird messages.”

Not a stalker. Not a stalker. Not a stalker.

“Why don't you just block him?”

You'd think by the self gratification in this voice that Tang solved world hunger. You let him dwell in his ignorance, partly because you were afraid to dissect how deep this iceberg went.

You were afraid to admit that you had already blocked the Private number… twice.

Initially you had hoped the messages were the effects of some virus, but they kept getting worse by the second.

[17:59] Just wanted to know if you've had a nice day? :)

[20:22] My cat’s sick. Idk what's wrong with her.

[20:23] I don't have a cat lol

[22:23] Where'd you get your cat?

[01:00] I love talking to you

[01:05] You're so fucking hot

[02:03] I love you

You were afraid to admit that you waited for his message at the end of every long monotonous day.

While you wrestle will all sorts of the moral implications that came with enabling you stalker, Tang couldn't take his eyes off your dress.

Had you really worn the dress for him?

Tang couldn't suspend disbelief even for a millisecond to imagine a world in which that was possible. When he sent that message, he obviously didn't expect a response.

He always believed he was nothing but a fragment of furniture in the workings of your life.

The convenience store guy you occasional spoke to.

Everything began to feel more and more brighter in your presence. The clinical musk that hung in the convenient store began to smell more and more like jasmine and time seemed to grow wings and take off whenever you swung by, chatting his ear off about your latest inconvenience.

One moment you were an irritation, the next Tang found himself seated at his desk, surrounded by a halo of used tissues while habitually scouting out porn where the campy lead actress resembled you more and more. He found it concerningly easy to get off when your eyes, your smile and those beautiful fucking tits were clouding his mind eye.

It was around this time when he started walking you home.

For a while, a vaguely heavy silence sits in between you two. Tang, with his head bowed, chooses to ruminate in an emotion very new and complex to him…guilt.

He is completely unaware that you're watching him, until you sigh loudly. “You know… you could at least try to sound convincing,” your words cause his neck to snap up and he watches with wide eyes as you round the counter, dragging your finger against the cold surface.

“I think I'd find it way more endearing if you don't try to lie to me, Tang.” You're walking closer and closer and he feels like his entire mental state has imploded on itself.

“Fuck, I'm going mental,” he screws his eyes shut and pats his cheeks rather hard. When he opens them, youre still there. His breathing picks up as your warmth penetrates the radius surrounding his flustered, agitated body and Tang immediately sends a worried gaze up to the CCTV nestled in the corner above.

“Some girls respond better to just being asked out.”

A billion lies try to flash across his mind's eye. Anything that might get him out of this situation unscathed. He comes up empty. Eventually, all Lee Tang is capable of, is a droop in his shoulders as he asks, “Are you going to call the cops?”

You don't respond immediately. Choosing, instead, slide your finger over his on the counter. Your warm hands encircling his had the power to knock the very life out of him.

“I should call the cops,” you state very gravely,” you look up at him with a grim sort of fascination.

Lee Tang has mentally checked out. His droopy, ringed eyes are stationed on your lips alone.

“You really should.” He says, before bending down ever so slowly as if to bridge the gap between both of your lips.

“You're sick, you know that? You had me fearing for my fucking life,” You're whispering. Why are you whispering?

“Don't say shit like that,” he whispers back.

“Why?”

Almost before he can talk himself out of it, Lee Tang grabs ahold of your hand, the one stationed on his own and he presses your palm directly onto his bulge. His eyes nearly roll back at the warmth of your small little hand alone and you watch, absolutely mesmerised as he begins to rub your palm up and down and up and down.

“Wait-”

“No.” He states, before motioning to bend down and kiss you, but before he can, you stop him with a hand against his chest.

There it was. That all too familiar pang of rejection. That nauseating, acidic feeling that ate away at his insides.

It made him want to hurt you.

How dare you try to stop him?

How dare you bring him this far, only to take it all away?

How dare you?

“Wait.”

“What?” Your eyes widen at the slightly louder quality in his tone. Sensing that you might have disrupted something that was well on its way to blossoming, you're quick to try and appease his nerves. You watch the conflict in his eyes dissipate and when you step closer towards him, your front pressed against his as you whisper in his ear, “Not here,” before spinning around, in the direction of the break room. It takes a moment for his brain to process your words, but when they do, he's ambling his way onwards, away from CCTV.

The very second he shuts the door to the break room, he's charging at you in a quick, frantic gait.

You're only allowed to feel nervous for a total of 5 seconds before he's pushing you against the wall, forcing his tongue down your throat as if it were his first kiss. His movements are jilted and frantic and so incredibly messy. If it were anyone else you might have been disgusted by his haste only proves to be contagious. You can feel it rubbing off on you with the way you mewl against his mouth, shoving your fingers into his mop of dark, unkempt hair.

“You're so perfect to me, F-Fuck,” he whispers in between kisses. He never strayed too far. Your lips stayed connected by a line of saliva. You were both absolutely wrecked.

“So, long…” he whispers, before shoving his hand over your boobs and squeezing, “I've thought about this for so fucking long. I've jerked off to you for so fucking long- I just-” He breathes out, before flattening his thumb against your pebbled, clothed nipples, “I've always fucking wanted you,”

“How long?”

“Since I saw you,” he whispers before dipping his head in between the crook of your neck. Instead of splaying lazy kisses there, you gasp at the sound of him completely inhaling you. “F-Fuck…” he whispers before pulling back, enough to fiddle with his belt, “I need to fuck you,” he simply and succinctly says before bringing his other hand up to your collar. “You're not gonna go anywhere, yeah?” As he asks this, he curls his fingers around your throat, alluding to the real and very daunting fact that he wouldn't allow you to go, even if you wanted to…

“I'm not going anywhere,” you attempt to coax him yet again but he still keeps a firm grip around your throat as he slides, quite sloppily into your slippery cunt. Now his eyes roll back and he exhales the biggest groan he's ever let out. “I already know I'm not gonna fucking last,” with his free hand he swipes his fingers across your clit, stimulating you to the highest level as you whine and mewl into the air.

“So long,” he continues muttering as he ruts into you, “ s-so fucking long… s-so tight. You're too tight-”

You're caught in the throes of the pleasure of being fucked so throughly and so roughly that you completely miss his question.

“Hey?” He says all too quietly while slapping continuously at the side of your cheek as if trying to bring you back down to earth, “You're such a slut you didn't even hear what I asked you?”

You manage to shake your head.

“I asked if you were a virgin.”

You stilled at the question, sensing that you were walking on dangerous ground. Which, you were realising is a norm around this guy. While you were thinking you had to choose your words correctly, Tang dips his head in between your neck and shoulder once more.

“Doesn't matter,” He ruts against you, feeling himself get closer and closer as his grip on your neck becomes tight.

“I'll kill him-” and for some inexplicable reason you cum at that very moment. Your moans reach the dusty ceiling and you fall apart against him so absolutely.

“You're gonna make m-me-” He's already cumming inside you, all while completely cutting off the air to your lungs. He watches you through his spell of pleasure as you claw at his hand and it only makes him cum harder.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers when he empties the last of his seed inside your weeping cunt. You gasp for all the air you were deprived of and he watches with morbid curiosity as life flows back into your eyes.

“That was way better than porn.” Now that he had you, he didn't plan on ever letting you go.

#killer paradox #killer paradox fanfic #killer paradox smut #lee tang #lee tang x reader #lee tang smut #choi wooshik #choi wooshik x reader #lee tang x you

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enihk-writes · 3 months

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[before the year ends]

seasonal fics : 除夕 (chú xī) / lunar new year's eve edition

paring: various!hwasan men x gn!reader

summary: things that happen on the last day of the year.

characters: chung myung (can be read as both pbss and mhdd) // chung mun // chung jin // tang bo // tang gunak // jang ilso // jin hyeon // lee songbaek // jin geumryong // baek cheon

author's note: my personal music recommendations for the day are lovers in seoul by off the menu , hot potato by n.flying , coconut love by seoulmoon , mercury by bye bye badman and t + tik tak tok by silica gel feat. So!YoON! (doing this for fun because my other hobby is looking for new music and putting them in a playlist partly because one of my teenage dreams was to open up a cd shop in an art street or own a music-vinyl brunch cafe by the seaside ugggh but you need money like do you know how expensive seaside properties are in singapore!!! i don't have that cash!!! so i have to work!!!! fuck!!!!)

CHUNG MYUNG doesn't like to be cooped up indoors during the festive period. so that afternoon he slipped out to visit the next town over, hearing about their night market and looking forward to getting drunk off his rocker before returning home. only to come face-to-face with you. to his credit he tried to divert your attention to slip away with a bold-faced lie but to be honest, he isn't very good at that. he ends up letting you tag along to buy your silence. which wasn't that bad of a decision — he found himself enjoying the private time he had with you more than he'd expected, like walking through the markets with pinkies interlocked, visiting taverns and teahouses getting mistaken for a couple to get discounts, even the passionate drunken kisses you both shared on the inn balcony which left him quite dazed. when he gets back he would have to have a talk with you about what happened here. though right now he's a little preoccupied with leaving marks all up your neck, hands under your clothes going to places he probably shouldn't, revelling in your embarrassment a little too much. thank goodness he had the foresight to rent out a room to stay in so the both of you could do whatever you wanted in here to the heart's content all night long.

CHUNG MUN watches as you scurry around the sect grounds checking in on the workers who were all preparing for the banquet that was to be held over the new year. as the sect leader he shouldn't interrupt another elder's duties, but as your husband he wanted you to pay attention to him too — it was new years eve and your spouse can't even ask for some alone time with you? you were so cruel, was this how he was to spend the last day of the year? he sighed and turned back to his papers, finishing up with his own work until it was finally time for bed. you met him in the front of your shared house, he finds himself cracking a smile when you bury your face into his chest, he walks you over to sit together on the bench, where you plop your head down on his lap, very much like a certain youngest, pouring your heart out on the annoyances that you've faced today so what has your dear husband have in mind to reward their hardworking partner? the man only chuckles at your ranting, running his fingers until you fell asleep, carrying your tired body to tuck you in bed. he looks over at your peaceful form one more time, kisses your hand and leaves for his own quarters to retire for the night.

CHUNG JIN had been pulled out from under the pile of books he's buried under to take a day off at the behest of the other elders and disciples. not knowing what to do, he hovers around your side, not really wanting to go down the mountain without a solid plan. you thought he looked a little like a lost sparrow then, so you let him stay around as you went about your day. he aided you with small tasks here and there — wasn't he supposed to be on break? old habits die hard, you supposed. he ended up helping you finish your job earlier than intended, bringing the leftovers from the kitchen along, the two of you headed down the forested path at the back of the mountain to wile away the rest of the afternoon as you ate the food and engaged in small talk about nothing in particular. the sun felt warm on your skin, and as it began to set, the sounds of the flowing stream nearby lulled the two elders into a dreamless sleep.

TANG BO stifled a laugh as he looked at your sorry state. only an idiot falls sick on new year's eve — was what he'd told you. you wanted to strangle him right then and there, never mind that he was your husband. he offered to nurse you for the day, supposedly from the kindness of his heart. bullshit. this guy had something up his sleeve, you were so sure of it. but whatever you thought he'd do never happened. your husband truly did take care of you that whole day. he'd wipe off your cold sweat, change towels, feed you food and medication on time, among other things. you thought he'd turn over a new leaf and was just about to praise him when he snickers at you again. maybe you should get sick more often, you're so much nicer when you're quiet like this. too bad for him your fingers were faster as you shove them up his nose to choke him in retaliation. fortune favours the just. the next morning you woke up feeling good as new — your fever had gone away just in time to celebrate the new year. your husband, on the other hand, didn't seem to be doing too well, seemingly catching your cold from yesterday. hmph, serves him right for teasing you like that.

TANG GUNAK could not catch a break even on new year's eve. there was always work to do, the world did not stop on holidays, after all. you slipped into the room quietly with refreshments in hand, hoping to get him to take a short break from his paperwork. the man had sharp ears — recognising the weighted rhythm of your footsteps even as you were on the far end of the hallway. he sets down his brush, getting up to greet you. my love, he'd call out softly, expertly placing away the tray in your hands. you laugh as he pulls you into his embrace, his face burrowing into your shoulder. you try to hug him back with as much vigour you could muster, pulling away just so you could place a few pecks on his face. it wasn't a very long break, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. he sipped on the tea you brewed, listening to your excited recounting of a new novel you had been reading. new years was a time to give thanks for the blessings in life, and he was more than thankful for the way your shoulder felt pressed against his arm as you two sat side by side.

JANG ILSO cared little for the festivities. he wasn't in the mood for any banquet, or party or whatever loud activity. he had been itching to do something, but he couldn't pinpoint what he wanted to do and the idea of going outside annoyed him. you didn't really know, nor cared to find out about your employer's stormy tantrum going on right at that moment. unfortunately for you, you were one of his go-to people to piss off and annoy whenever he wanted to cause trouble. your boss was a temperamental man, and you always walked on eggshells around him. little did you know that you were third on his list of people he liked, so in the off chance that you did piss him off, he wasn't going to get rid of you. not that soon or quickly anyways. he barged into your office with attendants trailing behind him with boxes of drinks, food and entertainment for that evening. he was here to bother you, if you so kindly didn't mind. most of what happened was blurry — you only remembered drinking the sweet wine, going down far too easily, possibly knocking over papers and ink all over your desk and then passing out. the next time you came to, you were in a guest bedroom near your boss' own. the hangover medicine and new clothes already laid out on the table for you. there was no way you had created a moment that your boss could hold over your head as blackmail. no, you detested the teasing that was sure to come from him in the coming year.

JIN HYEON had been out on an errand on behalf of the elders, and finally, he was going back to wudang just in time for new years. he stops by the small diner in the town next door, he often had his meals here whenever he's going out, outwardly he said it's because he liked the lotus root soup with pork ribs served with warm rice. in reality, he just wanted to find a chance to talk to you, the owner — a familiar face he had known since both of you were mere apprentices. though now you had taken over the restaurant your adoptive grandfather had left behind for you while he had risen up to the rank of a second-grade disciple. the diner was small, and the business was decent enough to make ends meet, but it wasn't so busy that you didn't have time to sit across him to have a short chat before he headed off. you asked him if he would stay and visit the night market this year. he shook his head sadly, feeling bad that he was turning down your offer yet again. you shook your disappointment off, opting to change the topic. the hour passed far too quickly, and he had to report back to the elders before night fall. you walk him towards the door, just as the wind picks up from where your back was turned, pushing you into his chest. the man takes the opportunity to pull you a little closer, accidentally placing a peck on your forehead. you didn't think he'd be this affectionate today but who cared? it was new years eve and it's been a while since he had walked you home. maybe next year you could ask him again to come with you to the night market.

LEE SONGBAEK had gone to his hometown for the new year celebrations. he had been given permission by the elders to do so, along with a good majority of the other disciples. things had been really quiet back in the sect with nobody really wanting to do anything with them. speaking of which, he hadn't seen his family in years by now, and he wondered how they were all doing. he didn't plan to spend too much time — have dinner, catch up, stay overnight and leave the next morning. he didn't expect to see that you would also be in his house, helping out with the new year's eve dinner. he could smell the dough and sesame paste drying out in the sun for the tang-yuan they'd all have later. actually, he thinks most of the village was congregated at his house. the disciples who had tagged along with him were a little taken aback at the size of the crowd, much to his embarrassment. he didn't think his village would be so stoked to have him back on new years with his sect brothers. you slipped out of the kitchen to greet him as the elders fussed over the boys that had come to visit. he leans over to greet you, feeling a small smile pull at his lips when you tousle his hair. his original plan might have been a little thwarted, but since you were here, he didn't really mind. ah, when he goes back to the sect, he should ask if the tailor was accepting any apprentices — if he were, and you came over, he might see you around more often in the coming year.

JIN GEUMRYONG wished he was anywhere else but here right now. but, as the eldest and prodigal son he should behave appropriately. he slips out of the banquet hall at the first opportunity, making shoddy excuses like needing to go to the restroom. he finds a spot in the quietest part of the estate, taking a moment to collect himself from the incessant social interaction he's had the whole day. soft footsteps approach him — really? he feels annoyed, but tries to reign back his distaste when he sees your smiling face beaming at him. go away. he tells you, not in the mood to deal with whatever you were about to drag him into. please? you'd beg, your hand pulling at his arm to get him on his feet. there was something you wanted to show him, and if he didn't go with you now, he was going to miss it! the man agreed reluctantly, letting you take him to the lake behind the hills. the night sky was clear and he could see every sparkling star in the sky. you sit on a fallen log, seemingly waiting for something to happen. he sits right by you, choosing not to question your actions. and then — there it was. the stars fell from the sky one after another, painting the night in long white painter's lines. he'd never seen anything like this in his life thus far, and he might not ever see it again. but it didn't matter. when you asked, doesn't it look amazing? he could only hum, unable to take his eyes off you all while your gaze was turned to the spectacle in the skies.

BAEK CHEON, for the life of him, can't decide which tassel he wanted to buy and ended up just getting a roll of thread in plum-blossom pink to make one on his own. the handiwork was clumsy, clearly amateurish with the bronze coin woven into the accessory. it certainly resembled the shape of a tassel — if you didn't look at the finer details too closely and for too long. you could see him look embarrassed at the quality and was already regretting giving it to you. but how could you not want his sincere gift? you loved it, flaws and all, because it was from him and you wanted to be reminded of the idea that this perfectionist still could make mistakes. you pull him down for a kiss. and then another. and another, until you were peppering his whole face in kisses because your heart couldn't handle this gap in his personality. your poor love, look at how red his face had become. he didn't know whether to be happy that you liked his gift this much, or feel shy at the public show of affection in a place where everyone in the sect could possibly see? you can't help but snicker mischievously as you skipped away from the scene — leaving the poor boy in a flustered mess.

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doitforbangchan · 1 month

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All Bark and No Bite - 13

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter Warnings: afab/fem reader, Smut, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, mild anal play, grinding, thiago riding, spanking, choking, biting, kissing, violence, blood, cursing, misogyny, sexism, Dom!Seungmin, Possessive!seungmin, Possessive!Reader, Soft!Han, reader gets called puppy (a lot), crying,name calling , fluff, angst, Lee know once again being a dick.

WC: 8.3k

There was a wetness that was traveling up the side of your shoulder that woke you up that morning, a little squeaky ‘mwah’ following each moist point of contact. You blearily opened your eyes, catching the sun shining through the thick nylon of the tent and forgetting where you were for a second.

Before the mild panic could set in, you were hushed from a body next to you, “Shhh baby, you’re alright my sweet girl.” It was Jisung, he had a softness to his tone you hadn’t heard before.

“Ji?” You asked, delirious from sleep and turning your head to look at him through half closed eyes.

“Mmhmm” He hummed, continuing his smooches along your shoulder and trailing up to your neck.

You immediately relaxed, closing your eyes and letting out a sleepy sigh. “Wha are ya doin?”

“Jus’ missed you is all.” He replied, his warm hands digging under the blankets you were buried under and finding the skin of your waist. “Annnnd maybe I was feeling a little needy for my baby.”

“Mm. Where’s Channie?” You felt his fingers drumming on your skin, finding your hip and giving it little taps.

“Hyung is clearing up the stuff down by the beach with the others. He wanted to let you sleep.” His kisses were turning into nips and sucks as he got closer to your jaw line. You let him move his hand ever further south, resting in the waistband of your sweats.

“Hmph” You grunted, “ this is letting me sleep huh?”

“We all have to make sacrifices sometimes, baby.” He tilted your face to meet his, his eyes half lidded with need. “ I needed you.” Jisungs wet lips found yours with a whimper. You melted into his kiss, breathing a sleepy sigh of content. It’s honestly crazy how he hadn’t kissed you for real until right now. Kissing him was exhilarating. You had hoped he had wanted you but now you could feel how bad he craved you though his lips, a mashing of teeth and tongue, as if he was trying to devour you. You were sure you would never forget the tang of his natural taste, it being reminiscent of Sunny D in that sense.

You gave a low whine when the beta wandered his fingers further into your sweats and into your panties. He didn’t delve his fingers in, just gave you more taps on the flesh that was quickly dampening for him.

“Fuck my baby, need to hear you make that noise again.” He muttered against your wet lips. The beta could smell your arousal filling the tent, leaking through the pores in the nylon fabric. He hoped to be covered in it. Wanted it to seep into his skin.

Jisungs fingers swiped through your accumulating slick, both of you groaning at the feeling.

“Ji, we can’t umm, we can’t do it right now… I don’t think we have any.. Protection.” You managed to get out bashfully, finding it incredibly hard to stay strong on the matter. But you were not about to have a repeat of Chan's fury.

“Shh my baby, I know. Jus’ wanna make my girl feel good, is all.” His mouth reattached to yours and his nimble digits circled up to your clit after collecting some of your slick. “Mm so fucking wet, nnngh.” He started to whine as he bucked his clothed pelvis into your covered form, unable to stop the motion.

The beta rubbed harshly on your bundle of nerves, panting as he took in your little squeaks and whimpers of pleasure, finding it addictive. Craving more and more. His little grinds only increased when he parted from your clit and plunged a finger into you, feeling your tightness surround his digit.

“Sungie” you moaned at the intrusion, eyes clenched shut. You had heard he played guitar so you figured he must be good with his hands but fuck.

He wanted to cry at how sweet you sounded when you whined his name. Ji used his other hand that wasn’t buried in you to rip the blankets off your quickly overheating body then he pulled your bottoms down so he could get better access to you.

The sight of your drooling pussy and glassy eyes riddled with sleep and lust, pushed him over the edge, and he came untouched in his sweats. “Fuuuuck my baby, prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, oh my fucking god, so perfect, the best omega in the whole world I swear to god.” He rambled as he came, shoving a second finger in and bringing his other to circle your sensitive nub.

You felt your high approaching, all it took was for him to curl against your special spot inside of you for you to let go. This one felt a little different from the rest that you’ve had before. When you came there was a release, and a flood of your essence shot out of you, soaking both Jisungs hands and the blankets beneath you. You were crying in pleasure at the feeling. “Ji, Jisung oh my gooood, fuck ahhhh.”

He moaned loudly when you squirted on his hand, “What the fuck oh my fuck thats so hot.”

The beta worked you through your high, only stopping his thrusting when you weakly grabbed his wrist. You were panting so hard, your lungs were on fire. He didn’t give you much time to catch your breath, though. When he pulled his soaking fingers out of your hole, he was mesmerized by the shine coating his skin. You watched as he shakily brought the same hand up to his own mouth, and put the dripping digits on his tongue.

Jisung moaned and screwed his eyes shut at the sensation of your slick on his taste buds. “Fuck I need to taste you properly.”

Before you even registered what he meant, Ji leaned over and buried his face between your thighs, immediately running his tongue through your folds.

“Ji too sensitive!” You tried to pull him back despite your moans, pulling at his hair but he only whined into you and made a slurping sound. It was positively filthy. It made your head spin and your brain fuzzy.

He only stopped once he had his fill of the goodness between your legs. When Ji pulled back the whole bottom half of his face was covered in your slick and his pupils were blown up so big they encompassed his entire eye.

He took in your fucked out expression as he licked his lips, not willing to let even a drop go to waste. He always knew he was a munch but it had never been truer until this particular moment. Jisung already longed to suckle your nectar from you once more, even though he was there seconds beforehand.

Instead of acting on his urges, he pulled your sweats back up over your hips and gave you another wet kiss. You could taste yourself in his mouth and it made you shiver. Your own hand slowly made its way to his crotch but he caught your hand before you could grab at it.

You pulled away from his kiss in confusion.”Do you not want me to make you feel good too?”

His cheeks were bright red and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “Don’t worry about that, baby. I already got mine.” It took you a second to realize what he meant, until your eyes dropped to the wet patch that was starting to appear through his sweats.

“Oh.” you giggled, trying not to embarrass him. It was honestly flattering that he came in his pants just by touching you.

“Next time I’ll hold out for you, promise.” He had a dopey grin as you kissed him again. He was just too precious.

A voice from outside the tent startled you both, “If you two are done fucking in there, breakfast is heating up then we’re gonna hit the road, so it sure would be swell if we could pack up this tent.” Minho.

You covered your face with your hands, as Jisung screeched, “We were not fucking in here, you twat!”

“Wow, someone woke up on the right side of the tent this morning.” Hyunjin eyed both you and Jisung when you crawled out of the tent a few minutes later. Jisung still had that dopey grin on his face and you had that sex glow you get after you cum. Hyunjin would know, he’s made you do it.

“Morning Jinnie.” You smiled at him and leaned up to kiss him. He returned your kiss briefly, before pulling away and pressing a kiss to your nose, causing you to giggle. Jisung skirted off, (you assumed to change his pants).You looked around and noticed most of the camp was already put up. Wow, that was a really quick camping trip. You can't fault them, though. It was pretty impromptu. You noticed every milling about, picking up, except Felix and Chan. “Where’s Lix and Channie?”

Hyunjin grimaced, “Well, uhh, the hormones you release when your uh, releasing, is a little too much for Felix when he knows he’s not allowed to touch you or anything, so he had to separate himself for a while. He stormed back to the beach and Hyung followed after him.”

Your eyes found the trail to the beach and with a mind of their own your feet were marching towards it with purpose. You were worried Chan was being mean to Felix and your omega needed to comfort the beta. Hyunjin was shocked as you just took off out of his arms, and he didn’t know whether to stop you or let you go. Thankfully (or maybe not) he didn’t have to stop you.

Before you could register the presence behind you, a hand snatched your arm, keeping you from proceeding. “You’re not going down there, omega.” That was the harshest you’d ever heard Minhos voice, it made you gasp at how assertive he sounded.

You snapped your neck in his direction, fire lit in your soul at being told no, again. “And why not, Minho?”

His cold eyes stared into your fiery ones, “It’s not your place to interfere with the Alphas business. You’re staying right here with us.”

You both could feel the other five pack members watching the interaction, but neither of you gave a fuck right now.

“You’re not an alpha, you can’t make me do anything, Minho.” You challenged with a shaky voice.

His eye twitched and he tilted his head in a nearly menacing way, “ You wanna bet?”

Your nerves were slipping, unable to help the tremble of your bottom lip. “ Chan said I was the woman of the household. I think that's justification to go where I please.”

His grip on your arm tightened as he growled, “Yeah. You’re a woman. Not a man. Know your place.”

You gasped at the gall of his statement and tears sprung to your lash line. A sourness overtook your normally pleasant scent, cascading out of you in waves. “What the fuck is yo-”

“Ok! That’s enough of that!” Changbin was the one to break the tension, removing you from Minho who let you go instantly. The alpha took you in his arms and away from the beta. Minho scoffed as you were rescued, rolling his eyes and going back to his tasks.

“What is wrong with him?!” You were seething, trying to turn your head to glare but Changbin wasn’t having it.

“Nuh uh, baby. You just keep looking ahead, no need to get even more worked up.” He was trying to be as calming as possible, attempting to release soothing pheromones to alleviate the tension. He set you down on the open hatch of the truck bed.

Changbin may have been an alpha but his scent wasn’t as assertive as Chans so it was taking you longer to calm down, “Seriously Binnie, what the fuck is his problem?!”

He sighed, running this hand through your hair. “Baby, you can’t just challenge Min like that.”

You huffed in protest. You wanted to roll your eyes but thought better of it. “He started it”

Binnie chuckled, “It doesn’t matter who started it, baby. You gotta understand his position in the pack hierarchy. There’s a right and wrong way to handle things. Minho is the second in command in our pack, he is directly under Channie Hyung and that means he deserves the respect of someone in a position of power.”

Your lip was trembling again as more tears sprung to your eyes, and you let your head fall to face your lap. “When he said to ‘know my place’, he reminded me of my father. He would say that to me and my mother all the time.”

“Aww baby, come er.” Changbin cooed and pulled you into his chest as you cried. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like your father did. It’s all politics, omega. He’s not quite used to being challenged like that. Especially not by our resident sweetheart.”

“Still hurts my feelings.” You grumbled, wiping your wet cheeks.

“Mm I know, baby. Let alpha make you feel better.” He began to pepper kisses all over your face, making a show with the loud smooch sounds. You couldn’t help but to giggle as your tears stopped.

“Ok ok! I feel better!” You laughed and tried to push him off. You hugged him when he finally stopped his kiss attack, nuzzling into his chest. “Thanks Binnie. You’re good at making me feel better.”

“I always got you, omega.” He pressed a final kiss to your lips then noticed a mass coming up from the beach trail. “Looks like things are ok over there too.” He flicked his head to make you turn your attention.

Coming up the trail was Chan, with Felix on his back. The alpha was giving a piggyback ride to the younger beta. Felix still had slightly puffy eyes as if he had been crying previously, but now he had a gentle grin as they entered camp. Felix said something in Chan's ear, making the alpha laugh as he set him down.

Able to pick up the rigidity in the camp, Chan’s eyes flitted around until they locked on yours. He had a questioning look on his face as he took in your puffy eyes then he sent a look to Changbin. The younger alpha lightly shook his head, his eyes flickering over to a tense Minho then back to Chans. Chan sucked his teeth and nodded back.

Chan set Felix down by the tents where Hyunjin and Jeongin were finishing packing them up and he made his way to you. Changbin gave you a swift kiss and backed away as Chan appeared, giving him a fist bump before going on his way.

“He’s fine, if you were wondering.” Chan pulled you into him, his chin resting on your head. “Just got himself a little worked up.”

“I was really worried for him..” you breathed out timidly. “I was scared you were, umm…”

“Oh I see, you were scared I was punishing Felix again, huh?” He murmured softly. You nodded in response. “My nurturing little omega just wanted to make it better?”

“Yeah, alpha” Your voice croaked, thick with more on coming tears. “But Min stopped me…He was so mean.”

“Mmm, I know baby. Ya know, I love how much you care about Lix and the other boys.” You nodded again. “Means you're a good omega. A perfect one for this pack.”

That made you purr in response, feeling vindicated.

“But,” Shit, nevermind.

“You gotta let your alpha handle things. Felix and I were only having a conversation, baby. I wasn’t punishing or scolding him. You would have felt pretty foolish storming over there in the middle of our heartfelt conversation, huh?”

Hmph “....maybe”

Chan laughed, rubbing your back and planting a kiss on your head, “And cut Min some slack, he can be a dick but he doesn’t mean it most of the time.”

“Ugghhhhh do I have tooooo?” you pouted dramatically.

“Yes, baby. Where’s my nice, forgiving omega, hm?” He was using his scent to persuade you.

“M’ right here.” You melted into him, showing your submission.

“There’s my girl.” Luckily with you pressed against him, you missed the sly smirk he sent Minho- who was balking at how easily he got you to calm down from across the campsite. “I love you, baby.”

“Love you too Channie.”

“Looks like we’re about ready to go. And I don’t know about you but I am ready for a shower.” He laughed.

You sniffled and pulled away from him, “Yeah you stink.”

He gasped dramatically, “maybe you’re not nice after all.” He hoisted you into his arms as you shrieked a laugh. He had you over his shoulder so you smacked his ass and in return he gave you one back then laid a bite into the side of your thigh, causing you to shriek again. “Let’s roll!” He called out to everyone else, who had just finished getting ready to depart. He sure did love efficiency.

The ride home felt like it went by way quicker than the journey there. Chan let you pick the music again and you both belted the words to every song together. He didn’t make fun of you when you did little dances to each one (ok maybe he poked fun a little bit). The alpha adored how goofy you could be, and how every day he gets to see more and more of who you are inside; not just what the omega traits gave you.

The truck pulled up to the house after the others had already arrived, and the pack was already moving everything back where it belonged. You had been bummed the trip had been so short, but now being back home you felt relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from you at no longer being stuck in the woods in a tense atmosphere.

After helping move some things and taking everyones dirty laundry into the washroom to be dealt with later, you all had gone for showers and naps. Some of them were still hungover from drinking too much (Jeongin and Felix mostly).

You went into Chans bathroom to find him already turning on the water, “Wanna shower with me, my love?”

You were hesitant to reply, remembering the last time you were in that shower together, and how you were punished.

He could tell you were apprehensive, “It’s just a regular shower, baby. Nothing scary this time, promise.” Chan held out his pinky to you, his eyes crinkling with his endearing grin. When he’s so cute like this, how could you deny him?

“Ok, Channie,” you looped pinkies with him, then you took off your clothes and joined him in the shower. He didn’t touch you sexually this time, and you were grateful for it. He didn’t think you would be ready for it in this particular shower, anyways. That doesn’t mean you didn’t get a smattering of smooches from him, though. Sometimes he can’t keep his lips to himself, he guessed he was like his pack brothers in that way when it comes to you.

Once you were cleansed and clothed - in Chans shirt and a pair of shorts, naturally - you padded down into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Jisung was already there, on his phone.

“Hi love bug.” he greeted you with a kiss. “ I'm ordering pizza, Bin has been complaining that he’s gonna ‘ die of starvation’ if he doesn’t get a supreme asap. What kind do you like?”

“Hmm, I wouldn’t say no to a hawaiian.” You sipped your drink you got from the fridge.

“Don’t let Hyung hear you say that.” You felt a hard pinch on your right ass cheek,

“Ow!”

“He hates pineapple on his pizza” Seungmin snickered, dodging your tiny fist. “My vote is only get hawaiian, really stir the pot in here.”

“Yeah that's what we need.” Jisung replied sarcastically. “Let’s not piss off the alphas please.”

“You’re no fun, Hannie”

“I am fun!”

At this point you made a swift exit out of the kitchen, staying out of the mini spat. “I swear, they fight like an old married couple.” you murmured.

“I heard that!”

“No you didn’t!” You called behind you.

You ventured into Chan's room to gather his and your laundry, then back down into the laundry room. You hadn’t realized how much it had built up in the last few days, so getting it done was a top priority for you.

It was about 40 minutes later and you were putting the second load in the washer when you heard a pounding at the door. It wasn’t a gentle knock but more like a rapid banging. You listened for a moment and didn’t hear anyone go to the door so you did. ‘Jeez the delivery man must be in a mood today.’ you thought cynically as you made your way to the entry.

You now heard harsh whispers coming from the door as you got closer.

“I told you it was done, Brynn. You can’t come around anymore.” Seungmin, but who was he talking too?

“You dump me over text and now you won’t even explain why! What kind of bullshit is that? It’s been a week of radio silence from you.” It was a woman's voice, shrill and whiny.

You could see Seungmins back as he addressed the girl at the door, and you could make out her blonde hair over his shoulder.

“We weren’t dating. You made it perfectly clear when we started hooking up you didn’t want a relationship. I don’t have to explain shit to you.” He was trying to keep his voice even, as if he really didn’t care. He probably didn’t. “What’s done is done, Brynn. Don’t act like a spoiled child just because you don’t get my dick wet anymore.”

The woman looked over his shoulder as you came into view, her catty eyes narrowed at you then at him. “Who the fuck is that?”

Minnie turned his head to catch a glimpse of you, before sighing and pointing away, “Baby go back to the living room with the boys.”

“Oh I get it now.” The woman, Brynn, let her nostrils flare as she zeroed in on you. “you left me for some omega whore.”

‘What the fuck did I do?’

“You don’t know shit.” He bit back at her, now getting fired up. You stepped closer to him despite his order to leave, now only about a foot away. This girl was starting to piss you off, and you already had enough rage leftover from your altercation this morning.

“No, I get it now.” She smirked evilly, “Look at the bruises on her legs, you guys are all sharing her huh?”

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything about our pack.” He growled at her, glaring daggers.

“What’s the matter? Mad I got it right? Maybe if you weren’t such a beta loser you could get your own girl, instead of sharing some used up who-” The beta woman didn’t get to finish her sentence before you ducked past Seungmin and slammed your fist right into her left cheek. “AHH what the hell!” she clutched her face as she screamed.

“Y/N!” Seungmin grabbed your waist pulling you back, he was instantly shocked by your behavior. And maybe a little turned on. “Don’t, she’s not worth it baby.”

“I’ll show you whos the fucking loser! Don’t you ever speak to him like that again!” You tried to swing your fists again but Minnie had already pulled you too far away.

“Seungmin control your fucking dog!” She snarled, still clutching her red cheek.

“Oh my god why is something always happening in this entry way?!” Jisung shrieked as he ran to see what was going on. Chan and Changbin were right behind him. Brynns scream must have alerted them all to trouble.

“Take her now!” Seungmin tried to hand you off to Chan but you gripped onto the door frame, refusing to let go.

“No! I’m not done with her!” You were raging, the angriest you had ever been.

“Omega let go now.” Chan used an alpha command on you, making you release instantly.

“That’s right, go back to your master.” Brynn sneered.

“Next time I see you, it’s on sight bitch! Count your days!” You screeched, pointing at her as you were hauled away.

As you were pulled through the house you could no longer see nor hear the commotion at the door. Chan knew Seungmin would be telling her off and making her leave. “What the fuck was that?” He set you on the couch then crouched to your eye level. “Did you hit her?”

You crossed your arms, a snarl still embedded on your face. “If you heard what she was saying you’d wanna hit her too.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face, “Omega, you-”

“No!” He gave you a hard stare for interrupting him. “Sorry, alpha.” you winced. “ But I couldn’t stand there and let her say that about him! Something came over me and I just had to protect him from her. I have never felt such raw adrenaline before, it’s kinda like I blacked out and before I knew it, my fist was on her face!”

“I get it baby, you needed to save your minnie from the mean girl.” You nodded. “And I bet you were still feeling the intensity from this morning huh?”

“Yes, alpha. I’m sorry.” You sighed, trying to let the emotions go but failing miserably.

“All I’m gonna say is, don’t make it a habit of hitting people. Only warning.” He kissed your head, “But she really did deserve it, that chick sucks.”

“You should have seen the look on the pizza guys face when he pulled up to Brynns ugly crying face! He looked horrified!” Han held the pizzas in his arms as he passed you on the way to the kitchen. “Also, super hot of you to hit her, baby.”

Chan groaned and you giggled, “Ji I’m in here actively trying to teach her violence is not ok, we don’t need your encouragement.”

“Oh lighten up, Hyung. That bitch deserves it.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You agreed enthusiastically.

The alpha threw his hands up exasperated, before standing and stomping to the kitchen. He wouldn’t admit it but it was super hot seeing you all fired up like that. Seungmin and Changbin came in next. Changbin ruffled your hair, “Hey there, good job slugger.”

“Get off!” you pushed his hand away, laughing.

Seungmin was next to crouch in front of you, searching your face for any harm. When he found none there his eyes moved down and zeroed in on your hand, that had begun to bruise already from how hard you slammed it into the other woman's face.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” You admitted to him, shyness overtaking you under his scrutiny.

He scoffed, somewhat amused. “Clearly.” He grabbed your bruised hand and ran his thumb gently over the knuckles. When you hissed in discomfort, he brought the skin up to his mouth and gave it a tender kiss. “Next time, let me handle it.”

“As if,” you muttered with your own scoff. “I won’t let her or anyone else talk to you like that. You’re not her toy to treat like crap. You don’t belong to her.” You spat the last word like it left a bad taste in your mouth, and the beta noticed.

“Oh omega, is someone feeling a little… possessive over her Minnie, hm? You want me to belong to you instead?” He had his devilish grin on.

“No!” you protested, “...Maybe. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

He laid you on the couch with a shove, before climbing over you. You gasped and put your hand on his chest, eyes wide. “Don’t you worry about it, baby. As far as I’m concerned I’ve been yours since the spaghetti o’s.”

“Ugh don’t bring that up again.” you turned your head to avoid his eye contact and he took the opportunity to nip your neck. “Minnie get off!”

“Yeah get off her! The little savage needs some fuel to keep fighting for her men!” Seungmin was shoved off playfully by Changbin.

You could hear Chan yell from the kitchen, “No more fighting!”

“Yes more fighting!”

“Jisung, enough!”

“Ok ok, sorry.”

“Who’s fighting?” Jeongin ran in looking for the commotion.

“No one is fighting, Innie.” You replied, sitting up.

“Yeah, not anymore. You missed Baby smack the shit outta Brynn.” Changbin said eating a slice.

“Baby hit Brynn? No way she sucks!” Hyunjin entered now, trailed by a sleepy Felix.

The younger beta gave you a look of pure surprise, “For real, you actually hit her?”

“Uhh yeah, I did.” You felt sheepish now that they all knew.

“Wow. Our precious baby is showing us she’s not all bark and no bite huh?” he blinked away his shock, him too entering the kitchen.

Suddenly, a roar was heard from the head Alpha,

“Why does every pizza have pineapple?! Jisung?!”

“Oops!”

Lunch was filled with them all poking fun and teasing you for your altercation. Most praised you (making your brain short circuit) and told you how insanely hot they found it. One beta in particular couldn’t stop letting his imagination wander. He decided right then that he would give you a reward instead of punishing your behavior.

When you had all eaten you meandered back to your self appointed chore, telling them all to bring their laundry bins down and you would begin taking care of it. While you were folding some of the done pile, a figure came up behind you.

You shivered when he brushed your hair away from the side of your neck, and he placed the other hand on your hip under your shirt. “When you’re done here, come up to my room, omega.”

Seungmin’s voice was gravely as he lowered it to a whisper. He laid a light kiss to the skin of your neck, and you whimpered, nodding your head in agreement. “Mm, good girl.”

His hand traveled down to your butt, giving the cheek a single squeeze before he pulled away from you completely, and exited the room as if he was never even there.

You felt your breath return to you once he was gone, only now realizing you were holding it in the first place. With shaky hands you continued, wondering how the hell you were supposed to get anything done after that.

In actuality you managed to get another load in the dryer and finished folding the one you were working on within about an hour. You set the basket of folded clothes in Chans room, not expecting to see him chilling on his bed, playing on his phone. He smiled when you walked in, setting his phone down. “Hey baby, are you gonna come snuggle with me?” he held his hand out for you.

“Umm,” you grabbed his hand but didn’t sit. “Minnie kinda asked me to go to his room already..”

“Oh, I see.” He smirked cheekily, “Well before you go take one of these,” he reached over and handed you a little packet of pills. “Bin picked up your birth control prescription yesterday. Make sure you take it every day .” you nodded before popping one out and sticking it in your mouth. He handed you some water to wash it down. “Now don’t let me keep you then, my love.” he let go of you and sent you off.

You left the room, and went to the door you knew led to Seungmins room. You steeled your nerves before timidly knocking on his door. You heard a faint “Come in, baby.” so you opened the door and entered his space. You hadn’t been in his room yet, you weren’t expecting it to be so colorful. He had a few hanging plants draping down from his ceiling. The back wall was dark green, and the rest were off white, making the room look larger. Shelves lined the walls that were filled with books.

You closed the door behind you, and were hit with the encompassing scent of him. The smell was delicate like a thunderstorm. “Hi Minnie.” You twiddled with your thumbs, unable to meet his gaze.

He chuckled, “ Hey Omega. Won’t you come here?” He was sitting at the mahogany desk in the corner where he beckoned you to him. You shuffled your feet until you came to stand right in front of him. “There she is, my girl.” You preened at his sentiment, the omega inside begging to hear him say it again. “You like that? You like it when I call you mine?” He yanked you into his lap, letting you feel how hard he already was under you.

He leaned you back into him as he cradled your jaw, tilting your head and giving you little licks into the skin there. “Y-yes Minnie.”

“Oh I know you do, baby. Here in this room, you belong to me. You’re my girl alone when you're in these four walls, do you understand?” He knew he was laying it on thick but he needed to train you early. He nipped at your skin roughly.

“Mhm I understand Minnie.” you were whimpering, melting into his hold. He could see your nipples harden under your shirt, pleased you weren’t wearing a bra underneath.

“Go lay on my bed for me, and take your clothes off.”

You scrambled off of him when you register what he says, literally flinging your shirt off and tripping lightly when you pull your shorts down. He held back a snort, opting to bite his lip instead. You turn around to face him before you pull off your panties, giving him a full view of your breasts. You tried to keep eye contact with him as you unhurriedly pulled your panties down and let them drop to the floor.

If anything was true about Seungmin; it’s that he was very good at keeping his composure. On the outside he appeared calm and collected as he watched the sexiest creature he had ever seen settle herself on his bed. But on the inside; he was losing his mind. All he wanted was to ravish you, tear you apart and put you back together again. He had let the tension with you rise for days in anticipation for this moment, and he felt like a dog with a bone. More like a puppy.

The quilt on his bed was a mauve shade and had diamond shapes stitched into it. It was soft on your skin as you laid upon it, helping quell the fluttering in your stomach. You clutched it as Seungmins' predatory stare raked over your form. From your position on his bed he could see the glistening between your legs and his mouth began to water.

You noticed where his gaze was pointed and it made you feel kind of dirty, the way he had his fixed stare on your most intimate parts had you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together as you released a scent thick with arousal.

“Look at you, dripping and writhing when I haven’t even touched you yet.” He stood from his place on the chair across the room, palming his bulge through his sweats. “ What am I gonna do with you, pretty girl?” He tore his shirt off, taking a step towards you. “Should I stretch you out on my fingers?” Another step. “Should I eat your pussy till you cry?” Now he was at the foot of the bed. “Or maybe I should make you cum on my cock till you pass out?”

That had you absolutely panting, eyes blown at the suggestion and your thighs clenching. The arousal was coming out in thick drips and drenching the intricate quilt below you. It would surely take months to get the scent out. Not that he would want to.

“Option 3? If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” He licked his lips, itching to grab you but wanting to hear you beg for it. He wasn’t going to touch you otherwise.

“Please, Minnie.” You whined softly, feeling modest, your face heating up.

“Is that all you got?” He scoffed and took half a step back. “You must not really want it that bad.”

“I do, Minnie I want it!”

“You want it? You want my cock?” His eyes narrowed at you as he smirked.

You nodded rapidly, “Uh huh.”

“Then beg me for it, omega.”

You attempted to take a staggering breath as your lip trembled.

“Minnie, my Minnie, please, please have mercy on me, and fuck me. Please, Seungmin.”

A rumble came from him as he pounced on you. He slipped his pants off hastily as he crashed his mouth to yours. His tongue invaded your mouth and his hand groped your chest, the combination being staggering for you. You moaned when he gave your nipple a firm pinch. His pelvis pushed back into you when yours bucked up looking for friction.

“You really are a needy little thing, rutting into me like a horny little puppy.” He was condescending with his words, mouthing at your lips with cruel nips. “What happened to that feisty omega that took on the world today, huh? Where’d the snappy guard dog go?” He licked your bottom lip messily. “Show me how bad you want it, puppy.”

You animatedly thrusted up into him, grinding on his clothed member. He could feel the slick coming off of you and soaking into his boxers.

“Awe you’re so wet omega. Can feel you practically water logging my dick through my boxers.” He grunted, shuddering when you bucked again.

You were quickly falling deeper into subspace, surrendering yourself to him completely. His dominant aura and attitude was sending you spiraling into the abyss. “Mhmm, wet for my Minnie. Wan’ you to fuck me.”

Seungmin lowered his head to suck on the opposite nipple than the one he was pinching, nibbling on the hardened bud.

“I’ll fuck you, puppy. Give you what you need.” He sucked harder, and your hand shot to his hair. “But first you gotta give me what I need. Make yourself cum, wanna see the look on your face when you rut on me so hard you cum.”

“B-but I..” You whined, “I don’t know if I can.”

He quickly slipped a hand down between where your bodies met and gave a slap to your core. You wailed at the sharp pain. “I’ve told you before, I don’t care if you can, the fact is you will.” He smacked again. “Get to it.”

Seungmin slotted his thigh between your legs to give you more friction. You thrusted up into him again and hooked your thigh over his hips, grinding harshly into him. The fabric of his underwear over his member caught on your clit. Your head fell back into his pillows and you moaned. You repeated that motion over and over again, being so turned on you were actually getting off in it

“Seung, s-so good.”

He returned your rutting with one of his own, making you cry out as the knot in your stomach was building.

“Minnie, I think m’ gonna, gonna…”

“Go ahead, my obedient little pup, let go for me. Make a mess.”

With his permission you felt your orgasm take over, making you shake with pleasure. “Unngghh” Your ‘o’ face was even better than he imagined, eyes shut tight and drool coating your lips as you moaned. It was the both most gratifying and beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He barely let you finish your shaking before he had you suddenly flipped over so you were on your stomach. You let out a gasp in surprise. Seungmin leaned back on his heels and yanked you up by your hips, until you were on your hands and knees presenting for him. He admired the way your pussy spasmed from your leftover orgasm and he swiped a finger through your juices, swirling it around before he shoved the finger inside. You squirmed as you whimpered again. He hummed in appreciation, “ I love the noises you make for me, omega. Let’s see how loud you can get.”

You heard a crinkling sound behind you, so you turned your head around to the sight of him rolling a condom down his length. He had abandoned his underwear at some point and you hadn’t even noticed. When it was rolled on completely he took his cock and rubbed it through your folds, not yet pushing in. His lithe hand ran over your shoulders, barely touching as it trailed down your spine.

Seungmin laid a harsh smack to your ass cheek when he got to the bottom of your back “ow, minnie!” He didn’t respond, choosing to snicker in amusement when your flesh ripped from his treatment. He entered the tip into your dripping hole, giving a moan at the squelch that emitted.

He let go of his cock go and opted for giving your ass cheeks a punishing grip on each side, spreading you open for him to get an even better view of your pussy and the other little pink hole that you hide from him. You let your head fall in embarrassment when he seemed to take his time gazing directly at your most intimate hole. Seungmin let his saliva accumulate in his mouth before he leaned close and stuck out his tongue, the spit he collected falling off the tip onto your puckered flesh.

You shivered when you felt it hit you, eyes wide with slight terror at the prospect of him penetrating your ass. He could sense your fear and chuckled with his signature evilness. “Don’t worry, Puppy. Minnie’s not gonna fuck your ass… today.” your sigh of relief was cut off when his thumb swirled around in his own spit, not pushing in but definitely testing the waters. “Doesn’t mean I can’t play with it a little bit, though.”

All at once he pushed his length into you completely and also his thumb entered just slightly. Even the tip of this thumb was a stretch for you. The sensations made your back arch and a loud howl break from your parted lips. You had only moments to adjust to him, as he gave your ass another sharp smack and began his thrusting into you from behind.

Desperate cries were falling from you and Seungmin snuck his hand back up your spine until he found purchase at the base of your neck. He squeezed the skin there and used the grip he had to tilt your head up to face the ceiling, wanting your moans to be projected out. “Let em’ hear it, baby. Let the pack hear who’s making you bark like this.”

His jarring words made another bout of slick build up and drip out around his cock. The wet, sloppy sounds were resonating off the four walls, making it seem louder with the constant echoes.

“Mm, I’ll never get enough of this pussy drenching me. Wettest I’ve ever seen, fuck.” He squeezed your neck a little harder, making you choke on your moans. “God damn you look so good with my hand around your neck. Maybe I should get you a collar, make you wear it around like I’m always there giving my girl a good squeeze. My puppy can wear my initials on her pretty neck.”

“Minnie, please oh my god.” You rasped out between cries, feeling your second orgasm starting to build within you. You clenched particularly hard on him when he pushed the thumb just a touch further into you, stretching your previously untouched cavity.

“Fuck, omega. Clenching down on me so fucking tight. Gonna make me cum.”

You whimpered, “Wan you too, wan you to cum please Minnie.” You were begging, tears steadily streaming down your face now, just inches away from cumming yourself. “Wanna cum too, please, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, make a mess for me, pup. Cum.”

Your eyes rolled into your head as you wailed, toes curling and spurts of slick shooting out from around him. Feeling how hard you clamped down on his dick made Seungmin not be able to hold back any longer. He spewed curses and deep growls as he came, filling the condom with his thick essence. His mouth was salivating and he gave into his urges, leaning up to your shoulder and chomping his teeth down into the flesh just above Felix's bite. Your blood filled his mouth as he bit, and you cried louder than you had the whole time he’d been fucking you. The beta let go of your skin and licked his lips, pupils blown wide.

You were quaking when he removed his thumb from you, giving you a few minor thrusts as he let go of your neck. Seungmin gave you a few tender kisses on your back, trying to bring you back down to earth.

When the beta pulled out of you, you felt your legs give out and your face planted into his bed with a groan. He gave a chuckle at how cute you were directly after being fucked. You were floating, drifting in hyperspace you didn’t notice when he laid down next to you after disposing of the condom. This is why he toyed with you for days, knowing the buildup would make it all the more intense for you.

He lifted you to be directly on top of him and he wiped the drool from your lips. “Not done yet, omega. Need you to bite me now.” He pet your hair and hauled you closer, basically shoving your face into his shoulder. “Give it to me, let everyone know I’m taken by you, baby.”

You did as you were told, almost on instinct, bearing your teeth and digging them into his flesh. He groaned huskily, eyes snapping shut when he felt the pressure.

“Thata girl.” He held you close to him as you lapped at the wound you made on him, feeling more intimate than anything else you had done with him previously. Now you were positive he loved you, he doesn’t seem like the type that would go around receiving bites for just anyone.

When you had diligently licked it clean you pulled away from the skin, tilting your head up the best you could to look at him. His pupils were still blown out, making his eyes look almost completely black. His hair had fallen into his face and the sweat had made it stick to his skin. He was panting as if he had just ran a marathon, a deep flush in his cheeks. In all honesty he looked positively immoral.

You didn’t look any better, you could bet you looked how you felt; exhausted. Exhausted from all the adrenaline of the day and from all the orgasms that had been pulled from you today.

“You did so well fo’ me, baby.” He managed to say when he caught his breath.He pet the side of your head and wiped the blood off your mouth.

“I did?” You mumbled, coming out of your trance-like state.

“Mmm, the best. Listened so good to your Minnie. Made me really proud of you.” He gave you a tender kiss. You sunk into him, purring in delight at his praise. You pulled away first, feeling the fatigue you rested your head down on his chest. “You can’t fall asleep yet, we gotta get you cleaned up first.”

You pouted but still let him scoot out from under you and pick you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom to begin wiping you down and cleaning your newest bite mark. Afterwards he carried you back to his bed, and dressed you in one of his t-shirts. It’s about time you paraded around in his clothes too.

It was only mid day, but he let you rest under his covers and laid down with you as he turned on a show on his laptop. You snuggled into him and immediately felt at peace.

You were able to murmer one last thing before you fell asleep, “Love you minnie.” then you passed out, letting sleep take over.

When you woke up, the sky outside the window had darkened to a deep orange. For a moment you laid there, eyes half open as you came to your senses. You could tell that you were still in Seungmin's room, and that he was laid next to you. You heard the faint voices coming from the laptop on his lap and his almost silent snorts when something was particularly funny on his show.

“Wha’ time is it?” you mumbled, turning your body around to face him.

“Hmm? Not that late,” He looked to you then to his phone, “ it’s almost 6:30. You’ve been asleep for about four hours.”

“Four hours?” You started to panic, worried about the chores you were doing. You sluggishly went to get up but he put an arm over you, preventing you from moving.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“V’ gotta finish the clothes. Don’t wan’ anyone to be mad at me.” your voice was still heavy with sleep.

He had the most unbelieveing look on his face, “I just fucked you within an inch of your life, and you’re worried about the laundry?”

“Don’t say it like that!” you tried to pout.

He broke out into a laugh at how cute you were, “Pup, no one is going to be mad at you right now. You finished enough today, you’re allowed to take it easy. There are no more obligations tonight, you’re in the clear to stay here with me tonight. If you want to.”

“I do, but Channies not upset?”

“No, omega. I already checked in with him. We’re all good.” He kissed your cheek, smiling when you giggled. “You should eat, does leftover pizza sound ok?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded thankfully. “Mmhmm, sounds great.” He kissed you again then he scooted off his bed, and went down to grab food for you both. When he brought it back up you both sat up and ate together. He occasionally poked fun at you and you did it back to him. A playful, easy night was exactly what you needed. He may not have said the words ‘i love you’ but he showed it in his own ways. You felt it in how he played with you, and took care of you when you needed it.

A/N: my apologies to anyone named Brynn, and also apologies for the pack tension or lee know stans.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my wonderful bumble bee @ayejaii <3

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elryuse · 12 days

Note

Yandere debt-collector Ahin and Son of in debt parents smut?

The Debt-Collector

YANDERE DEBT-COLLECTOR AHIN X MALE READER

The grimy apartment walls seemed to close in on Y/n as Ahin, the iron-fisted debt collector, sat across from him. Her crimson lipstick, a stark contrast to her pale face, stretched into a humorless smile. "So," she drawled, her voice like nails scraping concrete, "the Lee family couldn't cough up the measly sum they borrowed, huh?"

Y/n, a scrawny boy of 18, could only nod, shame burning in his throat. His parents, faces etched with despair, stood behind him, a silent testament to their desperation. They had signed the contract, their only son the collateral.

The first few weeks were a nightmare. Ahin reveled in her power, barking orders, doling out threats, and making Y/n clean her filthy apartment until his hands bled. Yet, a strange shift began. As Y/n diligently scrubbed floors and washed dishes, a flicker of something akin to…kindness sparked in Ahin's eyes. Maybe it was the way he never complained, or the quiet respect that shone in his terrified gaze.

One evening, amidst the drudgery, Ahin surprised him with a takeout meal. "Eat," she grunted, shoving a greasy box towards him. "You look like a walking skeleton." As Y/n hesitantly took a bite, a flicker of something warm bloomed in his chest – a desperate hope for normalcy amidst the terror.

Days turned into weeks, and the kindness became more pronounced. Ahin started treating Y/n with a possessiveness that sent shivers down his spine. She’d buy him small gifts, linger over him while he worked, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He was a prisoner, yet a prisoner she seemed oddly…fond of.

Then, one night, Y/n woke to a bloodcurdling scream. He stumbled out of his room to find his parents, lifeless on the living room floor, their vacant eyes staring accusingly. Ahin stood over them, a bloody knife dangling from her hand, a chilling smile playing on her lips.

"They didn't deserve you," she rasped, her voice laced with a horrifying tenderness. "Now, it's just us, sweetheart. No one to take you away."

Y/n's world shattered. The woman who’d shown him a sliver of hope had become his monster. He sank to his knees, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.

Ahin knelt beside him, her touch sending a fresh wave of terror down his spine. "Don't worry," she cooed, wiping a stray tear from his cheek with a bloodstained finger, "we'll be happy now. Just you and me. Forever."

Her words, dripping with a possessive love that curdled Y/n's stomach, sent a fresh wave of horror crashing over him. He was trapped, not just by debt, but by a twisted love that stained their cramped apartment with the stench of death and a chilling promise of a forever he never asked for.

Y/n choked back a sob as he slipped the diamond-encrusted wedding band onto Ahin's crimson-painted finger. The air in the warehouse hung heavy with a sickening mix of anticipation and dread. This wasn't a wedding – it was a branding ceremony, marking him as Ahin's forever.

As the forced applause died down, Ahin, a vision in blood-red silk, turned to him. Her smile, once laced with a twisted affection, was now a manic predator's grin. "Together now, darling," she purred, her grip tightening painfully on his arm.

The following weeks were a descent into a nightmare. Y/n, fueled by a suffocating despair, became a horrifyingly effective tool. He excelled at sniffing out vulnerabilities, his whispers turning icy and cruel as he mirrored Ahin's ruthlessness. He hated himself, but the alternative – facing her wrath – was unimaginable.

One night, a flicker of his former self threatened to rise. Debt collection led them to a young artist, his apartment overflowing with unfinished paintings. The raw desperation in the man's eyes mirrored Y/n's own. A choked plea formed on his lips, a desperate urge to offer solace, but before a word could escape, Ahin was upon them.

She ripped through the artist's meager belongings, her face contorted with rage. But when she reached for a worn canvas, the sole source of color in the dingy room, Y/n instinctively stepped forward.

"Leave it," he rasped, a sliver of defiance cutting through his usual subservience.

Ahin whirled on him, her eyes blazing. "Disobeying me now, sweetheart?" she hissed, her voice a low growl. In a flash, the manic glint returned, hotter and more terrifying than ever.

Y/n's heart plummeted. He had seen that look before, the harbinger of violence. He flinched back as her hand lashed out, a stinging slap across his face. The artist, seizing the opportunity, bolted for the fire escape, disappearing into the night.

Ahin's fury turned inward. She grabbed Y/n by the hair, dragging him back to their apartment. The familiar grimy walls now seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his imprisonment.

"You think you can defy me?" she snarled, shoving him against the wall. Her crimson lips were stretched into a terrifying smile. "No one leaves me, sweetheart. You're mine now, forever."

Y/n slumped against the wall, defeated. He had seen the spark of fear flicker in Ahin's eyes earlier, but it was gone. In its place was a chilling possessiveness, a twisted love that had morphed into a suffocating obsession.

He was trapped, a prisoner not just of debt, but of a deranged affection. The world outside faded away, replaced by the four grimy walls that now held his entire universe, a universe ruled by a woman whose love was as cruel and inescapable as death itself.

#momoland ahin #ahin #ahin momoland #momoland #yandere roleplay #yandere blog #yandere stories #yandere #kpop yandere #psychopath #horror #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader

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iibonniee · 6 months

Text

A Quick Visit | Lee Minhyuk

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Smut, military!minhyuk

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), angst, fluff

Rating: R

Word Count: 12k

Summary: After hearing little from her lover, he decides to give her a late-night surprise. His promise to make it up to her kept her up through the night until she could confront him in the morning.

Masterlist

It never dawned on Y/N that a lover could become a stranger just as quickly as a friend could become a stranger. Whenever distance was thrown into the mix, schedules often became too busy to keep up with simple things, such as a text back.

This fact hung heavily on Y/N’s heart as Minhyuk’s enlistment approached. Her world was suspended, dangerously swinging between past warmth and future uncertainty. The impending distance, the changing schedules, and the quiet unease that unfolded in her thoughts were a recipe for feared isolation.

Minhyuk, however, was well aware of the turbulence shaking her spirit. He could see the pain reflected in her eyes, hear the worry lacing her laughter, and sense the tension in her every touch. So, with a heart full of assurance and lips armed with loving words, he chose to bring her comfort.

“Listen,” he would gently coax, cradling her face in his steady hands, urging her eyes to lock with his. “We’ve weathered more than distance before,” he would assert, his gaze steady, voice firm yet soothing. “Our connection isn’t just measured in miles or minutes; it’s held together by something stronger, something untouchable - our love.”

His words, his steadfast belief in their unbreakable bond, were a bandage for her fears. The understanding in his eyes, his unwavering confidence in their relationship gave her a sense of peace that the tickling hands of worry struggled to displace.

She never felt wrong in her life.

As the cold dawn of Minhyuk’s enlistment day dawned, Y/N found herself standing alongside the other members of his group, their collective grief palpable in the heavy air. The sun shining above them gave her no warmth — one she needed so much but refused to offer such grace.

The stark reality of their possibly changing relationship weighed heavily on her, feeling more real and definite than any of his soothing words of assurance. Minhyuk’s farewell was marked by a kiss. Their lips met in a fragile dance, full of promise but underscored by the bitter pang of impending separation. A promise pronounced in whispers followed that emotional kiss.

“I will message and call whenever I can,” he promised, his voice as steady as the heartbeat Y/N felt against his chest. “You will be the first person to hear from me.”

He’d text and call when he could, semi-keeping to a promise he had sealed off with a kiss. Slowly, those texts and calls grew to almost nothing; his voice on the other end turned from highly expected music into hope. His silence roared louder than the busy chaos of the world and bustling city life, reminding her each day of the gaping distance between them. The absent hum of his voice in the echo of their shared home was a cruel reminder of his unkept promise.

His empty assurances seemed like beautiful lies that momentarily conjured an illusion of hope. Realization washed over her in waves, each more painful than the last. The familiar tang of disappointment filled her mouth, more bitter than any foreboding doubt she had ever held. Despite his comforting words and promises, it seemed she had misplaced her trust. It was a harsh lesson in reality, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel betrayed by the gap between Minhyuk’s words and his actions.

She tried to ignore how her heart broke when she heard of his first appearance since he enlisted. How her teary eyes that begged to burst would only lead to a shaky blur of colors on her phone screen, a nightmare unfolding in high definition. Seeing him as she did, standing in the middle of his adoring crowd, the same fans who were now privileged to his time and attention, while she, the keeper of his whispered dreams and knelt promises, was left to glean his whereabouts from impersonal news updates.

His oblivious smiles and joy were like perfectly timed daggers to her bleeding heart, each moment of rich laughter and vivid enjoyment amplifying her agony. The jarring contrast between the joyous Minhyuk in the photos and the silent Minhyuk in her messages was a brutal, unvoiced slap of betrayal.

Her hands quivered, the phone screen dancing dangerously under wet eyelashes as her promised-to-be-steadied heart clattered down an abyss, fragmenting with every bump of the descent. His absence had been a lingering wound, raw and tender. Still, his blatant disregard — veiled under joyous fancon celebrations — was an insidious poison, slowly dulling her senses until only anguish echoed in hollow places.

Each image of a laughing Minhyuk, each snippet of his well-chosen remarks were hideous amplifications of his silence towards her. The vacant space she had reserved for his communication, his comforting words had now become a desolate island of unvoiced sorrows, painfully reflecting his undelivered promises. Yet, his presence and joy elsewhere signaled that he held time — time that he chose not to share with her, time that she desperately wished to be a part of.

The added knowledge that he held free hours unspoken to her carved the wound deeper, sparking an anguish that scorched through her veins, branding her heart with the bitter aftertaste of betrayal. She had believed they shared a common longing in his silence, but he had etched a cavernous rift between them in his actions. The stark revelation shattered her hope, leaving her grappling with the shards of her trust and their shattered relationship.

That night, the moon was her helping friend. Keeping her company where her heart didn’t. Her mind was a mess of self-hatred and self-doubt mixed into one grueling nightmare that refused to let her sleep. The silence of their apartment, once filled with his laughter and murmurs of love, was now a grim orchestra of her sobs and whispered grievances. The eerie glow of the moonlight, seeping softly through the cracks of the blinds, became the sole witness of her despair, casting long, lonely shadows around the room. Another source that seemed to show her unsaid words of pity.

She contemplated calling off work, giving in to the relentless pain that coursed through her, but the thought of being alone in the apartment that echoed his absence was overwhelming. The thought of the empty silence reminded her unbearably of his quiet disregard for their shared dreams, reflecting their empty relationship.

As the dawn approached, she decided to face the world outside - not for the sake of carrying out her tasks but as a refuge from the solitude. The tiny computer screen at her desk at work was a less painful alternative to the daunting emptiness of the apartment.

Walking through the doors of her workplace, she found comfort not in the friendly greetings from her colleagues nor in the mundane tasks that filled her day but in the sheer act of survival. Each passing hour was a bitter testament to her crumbling heart bearing the weight of his betrayal, a reminder that despite the sorrowful echo in the hollow spaces of her soul, she could — and would — move on.

Her heart – the thing that had dealt the most pain – would never listen to the silly things her brain would tell her. Not even when his groupmates would message her, asking her if he stopped by to say hello and that they missed her and to never be afraid to reach out to them.

“No.” She wanted to so desperately write back. “No, he didn’t come by to see me. How does it feel knowing that he chose you guys over me? How does it feel knowing that my heart is tearing itself apart because he would rather not talk to me but would spend his free time being with you guys?”

But as much as her heart was breaking and everything inside of her was holding back, the tears that felt like one wrong push would completely throw her over the edge.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks!” That was all she messaged back before turning her phone off when she noticed her messages were still set to deliver.

Tucking the small device back into her pocket, she offered a strained smile to the coworkers passing by her desk. Every tick of the clock marked another second she was away from the eerie silence of their shared apartment. Each passing moment of the day distracted her mind just enough to keep the tears she’d been holding back from spilling over the edge.

She couldn’t help but cast furtive glances at the phone she had taken out of her pocket for momentary relief, half-dreading and half-hoping for a message from him. But with every passing hour, the anticipation dissolved into disappointment, each confirmation that he still hadn’t reached out to her stinging like a fresh cut on an old wound.

In an office filled with people, conversation, and the hum of life, her solitude never felt more profound. As the day wore on, a sense of dread seeped into her heart. It wasn't the dread of heartbreak, however, but the dread of having to return to an empty home, knowing that she'd be greeted by nothing more than the echoing silence of his absence and perhaps the bitterness along with the shadow of what used to be happiness.

As nightfall approached, she steeled herself. Bracing herself for the long night ahead, she cast one last glance at her silent phone, let out a soft sigh, and began her reluctant journey back home to the ghost of her lover.

The journey back was a blur, a haze of city lights blending with the memory of his smile. As she unlocked the door to their shared apartment, she found herself hoping against hope that he'd be there. Every creak of the wooden floor, every shadow cast by the dim hallway light, echoed a faint possibility of his presence lurking in some corner – a hush greeting, a cozy comfort.

However, the reality was rather stark. The apartment greeted her with a cold emptiness, an echoing silence that amplified the loneliness. The couch lay bereft of his rumpled form, the kitchen devoid of his lingering warmth, and the bedroom mocked her with his untouched side of the bed. She peeked into rooms filled with his absence, her expectations crumbling into an overwhelming sense of despair.

Every nook, cranny, and piece of furniture they'd picked out together now held the aftertaste of his memory. The laughter, shared dreams, and cozy movie nights hung around the apartment like ghostly shadows, a poignant contrast to the present reality. Echoes of their love story played out in painful silence as she navigated her way through the house, a creeping dread settling in her heart with every step.

She would have to face yet another night of longing, another night of silent tears, another night of yearning for a presence long gone. Another night of learning to unlove the ghost of her lover on her own. Yet, she held on, dreading the solitude but embracing it as well, because it was in this solitude that she realized her strength, found the ability to stand amidst the ruins of her heart, and still hope for a better tomorrow.

Navigating her way through the dimly lit apartment felt like exploring a forgotten, treasured moment of the past. The remnants of shared life still clung to the subtlest corners of the house – the picture frames capturing their warm smiles, the hand-picked furniture that had held their shared dreams, the cozy spots touch-marked by their settled bodies during movie nights. All were silent spectators to the drama of absence that unfolded in front of her, each object a trigger to a memory, each memory a knife twisting deeper into her heart.

Her footsteps took her to the door of an old, rarely-used room. A stab of pain hit her as she stepped inside his painting room. The scent of paint and turpentine, the hastily wiped brushes, and the blank canvas on the easel mocked her with their lifeless silence. His room, a sanctuary once filled with vibrant life and color with the mix of laughter and happy cries, was now a tangible echo of his absence. She froze, taking in all the painful details, her heart heavy with the cruel reality mirrored in the lifeless brushes and color tubes.

With a sigh, she turned away from the room, her heart aching with a longing she could no longer quench. Navigating her way through the rest of the house was a bleak journey. Hints of the love they once shared haunted her steps, whispering the past into her ears with every soft creak of the wooden floor.

Wrapped in the solitude of their shared memories, she finally climbed into bed. The room, still bearing the faint residue of his scent, enveloped her in its cold embrace. Alone in the vast expanse of the bed they once shared, she felt the full force of his absence. But amidst this profound loneliness, she found a fragment of her fading strength — a resilience defying the melancholy of the deserted space.

In the hushed serenity of the night, the soft glow of the moon cast a gentle light on her slumbering form. Still lost in her dreams, a faint trail of affectionate kisses began to awaken her from the deep realm of sleep. The delicate pecks started from the shell of her ear, feather-light as they gently traced the curve of her neck and danced down her bare back. Each slight touch, though subtle, stirred her slowly from her peaceful slumber, sparking a soft, pleasing tingle on her skin. A quiet smile graced her lips as she was softly drawn back to consciousness, the hushed whispers of the night broken only by the beat of her quickening heart — a rhythmic replacement for the silence of her once-shared apartment.

The more she was pulled from her dreams, the more aware she became. The soft kisses she had started to welcome soon had her body jerking away in panic, her heart racing as she almost allowed herself to fall victim to whoever decided to break into her home while the night was probably still young. She was more awake as the white sheets gripped her body as she scooted further from the unknown figure.

The figure was silent and hunched over. The silence that filled the room only caused her more panic as she tried to shuffle away more and more, only to be stopped the moment the figure snapped out of the shock they were in and began to blindly reach out for her.

“Relax.” The voice spoke, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer. The more she struggled, the more the figure held onto her tighter. “Baby, relax.”

His voice was a warm contrast to the hostile atmosphere, carrying a soothing yet firm tone that seeped into her panic-stricken senses. It triggered a quick flash of recognition, causing her racing heart to skip a beat. She squinted, just catching the outline of a familiar frame bathed in the weak moonlight, and the tension in her body somewhat abated.

It was him. The figure she had been dreading becoming a stranger. Suddenly, the intruder was no more. It was him — her partner, her lover — whose absence had begun redefining their shared space’s silence.

His hand was warm, and his grip was gentle yet reassuring. The circles he absently traced on her forearm coaxed soothing waves across her agitated frame. The familiar whispery rasp that her ears cherished, the same voice she hadn’t heard in weeks. It was back, drizzling over the tense room.

The fog of panic slowly lifted as the realization settled — he was home. Her heart rate decelerated, the drumming against her ribs fading to a soft thump. She felt a hint of wetness tracing the curve of her cheek — tears, relief, or pent frustrations, she couldn’t tell.

A soft sigh escaped him, the quietest apology. He still held her closer, his grasp a desperate attempt to anchor themselves against the tide of emotions threatening to unchain. Even a slight parting, and they could be swept away back into those weeks of silence.

“Welcome home…” She mumbled faintly, her voice cloaked in relief. As he muttered a quiet “sorry,” they began to mend the silence of her once lonely apartment, filling it with breaths of a shared life. She began to blink, a frown spreading across her face as she had almost wanted to attack him. As she sat there in silence, she began to scowl at the unplanned entrance her lover made.

“I missed you.” He mumbled, his lips kissing the inside of her palm. With the light from the moon, she could tell that her lover was still dressed in his military uniform, no doubt just coming from his base. “I needed to see you; I need you. Please tell me you need me too and missed me as much as I missed you.”

His words were muffled as he continued to kiss her. They were laced with desperation as he moved onto the bed. She could barely see how his eyes flicked up to meet hers, desperation mixed with his beautiful brown eyes.

“Have you been behaving?” He was quick to ask, seemingly uncaring if she had answered him or not. His fingers were quick to rip the sheet away, and a deep-throated groan emitted from his throat as he enjoyed the lack of clothes she presented for him.

His hands moved wherever they could attach, squeezing and teasing her skin as they traveled down her body - from her collarbones to her breasts, down to the curve of her hips. The touch was familiar yet different, carrying an alien edge in its urgency, sending a flurry of mixed emotions through her.

Having caught her breath, she managed to choke out a shaky “yes” while fighting a fresh wave of panic. She was no longer sure if it was fear or something else entirely - a lingering sense of longing, perhaps.

He huffed, the hint of a smile barely visible in the dim moonlight. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, sending waves of electricity down her spine. His fingers traced along the curve of her hips, the touch almost agonizingly slow. It was a reminder, a homecoming, and despite the onslaught of fear and confusion, a part of her relished it.

However, a significant part of her shivered under the unexpected strangeness of his touch. Something had changed either in him or in their once-shared intimacy. Whether it was just weeks of silence from him or how much she had missed his touch. She wasn’t sure what felt so different.

The silence that had vaguely started weaving around them was now a tangible bowl of questions and insecurities, a scenario she dreaded to unravel. Five months of almost nothing, often barely a greeting other than a simple message, and her only updates often being from social media, had her hesitating.

Her hand caught his, forcing him to halt his exploration. Even in the dim light, his eyes held her gaze, silently asking for an explanation. It was a moment of vulnerable truth they had to face now - their love, their bond kept under the magnifying glass, exposed and examined. The silent echoes of their once-shared apartment now called for answers, and she hoped they had them.

“You never told me you were coming home.” She whispered, her eyes never leaving his own as his shoulders fell in slight defeat. “You hardly message me. You never came to visit me when you were able to…”

“I wanted to surprise you,” He began, moving closer to her once more to kiss the corner of her lip, “Are you unhappy to see me, my love?” He pushed, “Have you not missed me as much as I missed you? Baby, I’m ready to explode. I need you. I’m so needy. I can’t wait. I need you. I need to be inside you. I want to taste you again. I fucking need you. Let me make up for lost time. For not visiting you when I could, please…”

Her eyes observed his movements. Her gasp was loud as he pulled her body down and forced her legs around his waist, allowing his hard-on to brush against her exposed cunt.

“Let me taste you, baby,” Minhyuk whined, waiting for her answer.

His begging eyes held a dark promise, a sinful invitation that she found impossible to resist. She gently caressed his face, a slight smirk gracing her lips.

“Alright, love,” she eventually conceded, her tone laced with suspense. Her heart pounded as a flare of anticipation passed between them.

Minhyuk’s eyes sparked with victory and desire. He bent his head downwards, his husky voice whispering promises of pleasure as he began his descent, further trailing his hands down her body, elevating their intimate dance to a symphony of tantalizing sensations. This, she realized belatedly, was the intoxicating blend of lust and love - an enticing whirlpool of desire and fulfillment - sinfully smutty yet unbelievably romantic.

He wasted no time sliding down the bed until his eyes met her needy cunt. His lips parted as he reveled at the sight, his breath hitching in anticipation.

“So beautiful…” he muttered, his husky voice like warm velvet against her skin. His thumb gently teased her clit, causing her to gasp at the sudden sensation. A wicked smile curved on his lips, hearing her sweet whimper.

“Minhyuk…” she breathed, her voice barely audible under the storm of her desire. He looked up, his gaze holding a fiery promise.

His tongue traced a languid path from her entrance up to her clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. A triumphant hum came from him, adding extra sensation to her already sensory build-up. He lavished his attention, alternating between a slow lick and a quick flick, building her anticipation and desire to an excruciating peak.

“Don’t rush, love…” he murmured against her heated core, intoning sinful promise. His aroused gaze met hers, his hands keeping her steady as she writhed under him, futilely trying to get more friction. He chuckled, the sound vibrating delectably against her, sending spasms of pleasure through her. He relished her taste, appreciating their intimacy and closeness, entirely giving himself to her pleasure. He loved to tremendously arouse her longing, driving her to the sweet edge of ecstasy. “Just let it happen naturally…” He whispered darkly, resuming his torturous pace. “I’ll have you cumming in my mouth soon enough. I’ll take care of you.”

“Minhyuk…” she whimpered out, every cell in her body reaching out for his touch. Her legs trembled around him as minutes stretched into an eternity, proving his promise true. Her fingers gripped tighter at the sheets, her breath ragged and hitched in anticipation.

Every sensation was amplified, magnified by the intimate patience with which he worshipped her. The sound of his name on her lips was a sweet symphony to his ears, a clear sign of her impending release. He continued his skillful play, his tongue against her heat, his breath fanning over her wetness, fueling her desire further.

Her hips rolled up, meeting his lips in a desperate plea, and her body quivered, a clear sign of her impending climax. At her first spasm, he pulled back just slightly, only to dive back in, latching his mouth over her clit and sucking gently. The wave came crashing down, her body convulsing under the influence of a mind-numbing orgasm ripping through her. He held her close, his mouth still busied with drawing out all of her pleasure till her high receded, and she lay panting and spent, the taste of her climax still fresh on his lips.

“I told you, love,” he murmured against her oversensitive skin, his voice muffled by her thigh. His words were punctuated with a final, gentle lick as she shuddered again, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Their eyes met, his holding a promise of more to come as she rode the waves of satisfaction washing over her. “I’ve got you.”

Kissing her thighs, Minhyuk left open-mouth kisses all over her stomach and neck until his lips found hers once again. The kiss was impatient and greedy. Y/N knew her lover was close to breaking, and he would no longer wait for his own release.

“I’m done waiting.” He mumbled as he began undoing his pants. “I need you so fucking badly. Can your cunt handle me, baby?”

He watched as she nodded her head eagerly.

“You sure?” He teased, determination lacing his voice. His eyes were filled with fiery intensity and primal hunger that she found intoxicating.

“Yes.” She gasped out, her voice barely audible.

With an approving grunt, he shed his clothes remaining, revealing his arousal in its full hardness. His eye glistened with lust as he ran his fingers through her slick folds, collecting her excitement before smoothing it on himself.

Positioning himself at her entrance, he locked his gaze with hers. This act wasn’t just about penetration; it meant more than that. It mirrored the depth of their desires, the yearning they carried for each other within their hearts.

Slowly, he began his descent into her, finding her wet and ready for him. A tempting purr escaped her at his initial thrust, causing him to twitch within her. “God, you’re so tight.”

With that said, he began to move deeper into her, each thrust showing his intense need. He was slow, then fast - every push and pull creating waves of pleasure rippling through their bodies. Her eyes rolled back as an uncontrollable moan escaped her lips, fingers clutching onto his back as they rhythmically moved as one.

His name was a plead, a whisper, and then a scream that sounded with the collision of their bodies - a sweet harmony to their undying chorus of love and lust.

Their room flooded with sounds of their wild abandonment, gasps, and whispers of their names. He loved every reaction she gave with his deep thrusts into her, the way she arched her body, meeting his. Each grunt and moan they shared in their intimate congress was a reminder of the passion that had bound them together.

And just as the crescendo of their communion was about to be reached, he positioned himself even deeper, looking into her eyes as he thrust hard one last time. A loud cry escaped her lips, her body tensing and convulsing as he followed shortly after, their releases mingling together in a decadent tapestry of absolute, raw, sexual bliss.

All that was left was silence, save for their ragged breaths in unison, the only evidence of passion played out just moments ago, a symphony of their love and lust. He gazed at her, sweat-soaked and satisfied.

“I love you.” He whispered, kissing her deeply. “I love you, I love you. Fuck, I missed you. I miss seeing you every single day. I fucking miss you, baby. I’m going crazy without you.”

His words were like silent chants as his fingers found her own. She observed her lover carefully. Each word of praise and compliments felt like kisses to her body. She heard him sniffle, his head falling down in defeat, but she felt his warm tears kiss her skin.

“Min…” Her words were soft as she cupped his face. The moonlight didn’t hide his red face as he cried. “I’m here.”

She watched as he fell beside her, his head finding comfort on her chest as he cried silently. He was weak and vulnerable. All she could do was hold him close and remind him that even though his time was limited with her, she’d value all time with him.

Kissing the crown of his head, she whispered soothing words, threading her fingers through his hair until his sobs subsided, an unspoken promise to weather the storm together hanging between them. This newfound reality was a cruel one, yet she held on because love, she knew, transcended the limitations of time.

That night, sleep evaded her. She watched him eventually succumb to slumber, his body heavily sunk against her as if seeking refuge from the inevitable. Suddenly, the night seemed longer, each tick of the clock echoing ominously in the dimmed room. Her eyes gazed outside the window, tracing the stars in a futile attempt to find guidance in their ancient twinkling light.

The next morning dawned, bringing with it the familiar blush of an early sunrise. In the soft, warm glow, his face was serene, oblivious to the anger and unfairness of their situation.

Sorrow washed over her as she slipped out of his hold. She cloaked herself in this brief solitude, allowing the tears to flow in quiet rebellion against the day that promised to chip away a piece of their borrowed time. The typical morning noises - birdsong, the hum of distant traffic sounded surprisingly devoid of joy.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air in the kitchen, battling her welling despair with its familiar comfort. As she prepared breakfast, she fought back the lump in her throat. The simple act spoke volumes of her unvoiced fears and hidden hopes, a poignant symbol of unsaid declarations.

However, with each passing second, anger slowly filled her body and pushed away the sadness that crept up. She blinked away the tears, hating how the new ones were replaced with angry ones. She hated how easily she fell for his apology. How he left her without much for months on end and decided he’d instead not visit her while he could.

Her inhale was shaky, and the countertop was cold beneath her hands, a silent pillar of support. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and distractions, all dangerously teetering on the precipice of weariness that slowly invaded her soul due to lack of sleep.

Before she could brace herself, she heard movement behind her. Minhyuk was awake. She turned to see his sleep-ruffled hair as he blinked away sleep’s haze.

“Why are you up so early?” He asked, a veneer of casualness looming over his curiosity. She watched as he held out his hand, an invite he’d hoped she’d take. “Come back to bed. We can worry about breakfast later.”

Her heart pounded, a drumbeat loud in her ears. Taking a deep breath, she finally voiced out the thought that had been gnawing at her since the night before. “We need to talk about how you barely keep in contact.”

Minhyuk froze, his eyes wide open in surprise. The silence that enveloped them was deafening, amplifying the harsh reality of her words. She locked eyes with Minhyuk, whose confusion slowly fell away to be replaced with a flicker of understanding and then guilt.

“Why didn’t you keep in touch?” she asked quietly, the weight of that seemingly simple question filling up the space between them. Each word echoed around in their shared silence, a stark indictment of his absence.

“But I…” he began, stumbling over his words, lost for justification. She stood firm, her resolve unwavering. This was a conversation that had been overdue, a piece of their shared reality that had to be addressed. Through her weariness, she found the strength—and anguished determination—to face him and demand answers, even if they promised to unravel the delicate ambiance of their morning. “I’m sorry.”

She watched as the walls around her lover caved in. His eyes looked away from her own, fresh tears prickling away and wishing to fall when given the right time. She knew she had backed him into a corner he didn’t want to be in. But that’s how she felt when he greeted her with nothing.

Minhyuk gulped, visibly struggling with words. “I… I didn’t want my absence to hurt you.” His attempt at explanation seemed to hang in the air, a feeble defense against her palpable anguish. “Fuck – that’s not an excuse, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“But it did hurt, Minhyuk,” she replied, trembling. “It hurt because you were not here. Because you chose to hide from me instead of talking to me. It felt like I was trying to talk to a ghost.”

His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet the raw hurt in her eyes. The silence grew more poignant between them, the air filled with unthinkable pain and regret. His silence only spurred the sense of sadness, of betrayal that was bubbling within her.

“Why Minhyuk?” She asked again, her voice barely a whisper but carrying a weight that suddenly seemed too heavy to bear. His silence was answer enough. It echoed the months of lonely nights and fearful days, the unattended messages, the unanswered calls, the unsaid words that should have bridged their distance but instead widened it.

Minhyuk drew in a shaky breath, tears and regret moistening his eyes. He opened his mouth, finally ready to answer, willing to brave the storm of emotions threatening to drown them both. Their borrowed time was ticking away just as their challenging conversation was only getting started.

“I was scared. I… It’s not like I’m away on tour. This is different for both of us. I’m trying, but I’m scared you won’t wait for me,” Minhyuk confessed, his voice echoing vulnerability and fear.

“And that’s why you chose to distance yourself?” she asked, her tone laced with bitterness. “You made the choice for me? You decided I wouldn’t wait without even giving me a chance to decide for myself?”

He looked flustered, a shadow of his usually confident self. “I… I guess I did. I was just trying to protect you, to protect us,” he stammered.

She gave a hollow laugh. “And look how well that turned out.” Her sarcasm was a bitter pill, a harsh realization of their predicament. She breathed deeply, “We weather what comes together, Minhyuk. That’s what love is. You don’t get to decide what I can and cannot handle.”

His gaze met hers once more, tear-streaked but resolute. Silence enveloped them again, but this time, it wasn’t one of confusion or guilt but of understanding and, hopefully, resolve for better communication in their uncertain future.

“How fucking dare you?” She hissed, pointing at him as angered tears brimmed her eyes, “How dare you walk in here and think that just because you fucked me that I’d forgive you? That it would make anything okay? Minhyuk, I waited for you! Months and months! All I got from you were twice-a-week texts when I was lucky and videos of you attending the boy’s concert. How is it okay for me to see you on social media but not in person? Not until last night when you were too horny to control yourself. To actually wake me up like a normal person would.”

She watched as Minhyuk stood there, listening to her anger-filled words. There was a mix of emotions in his eyes - regret, self-reproach, and a deep-seated sadness. He appeared as if her words had physically pained him, but he made no move to defend himself. Instead, he stood there, absorbing each painful accusation, each sniffle, each tear that slipped from her eyes.

Minhyuk raised a shaky hand to his face, brushing away a stray tear from his eye. He watched her momentarily - the woman he claimed to love, yet unintentionally hurt. The silence settled around them, filling the room with tension and desolation.

“We knew from the start, Y/N, it was going to be hard juggling both my career and our relationship,” Minhyuk started, his voice raspy as he tried to steady his breathing, “But I let things spiral out of control. I admit that. Last night…,” he paused, looking away briefly, “Last night was wrong on so many levels. I was selfish, desperate to be close to you again in whatever way possible.”

Slowly, Minhyuk moved towards her, his actions filled with caution, but she did not flinch or move away. Instead, she watched him with tear-filled eyes, her anger dissipating into a silent plea for understanding.

He reached out for her again, testing the waters to see if she would move. His shoulders fell in relief as she allowed his hand to hold hers. It was a silent step in the right direction. Hopeful he was making the right moves.

“I won’t beg for your forgiveness or try to sugarcoat my mistakes. But I need you to know,” he continued, “that I never took you lightly. When I was with the boys, going to concerts, you were always on my mind. I promised you my heart, Y/N, not just my free time.”

She could see the sincerity in Minhyuk’s eyes. It did not heal the breach, but it was a start. There was a lot he needed to explain and make up for. But at least they communicated openly and honestly for the first time in many months. It was a step towards understanding, even if forgiveness was still miles away.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you. I should’ve told you I was free. I just… I fucked up. I don’t want to lose you. Let me make it up to you. Properly this time. The way you deserve it.”

His words echoed through the room, filled with desperation and regret. He stood before her, stripped of all pretenses, laying bare his emotions. In this moment, humility replaced his usually bold demeanor, and the heartfelt sincerity shone through.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her, Y/N couldn’t ignore the genuine regret etched onto Minhyuk’s face. For the first time, perhaps, he truly understood the pain he had caused and the magnitude of his mistakes. Amidst the lingering anger, a feeble spark of compassion ignited in her heart.

Finally, she spoke softly and tentatively, “It’s not about making up, Minhyuk. It’s about change. It’s about understanding what went wrong and ensuring it doesn’t happen again.”

Minhyuk nodded, accepting her terms unconditionally. He pulled her into his arms, his lips kissing her forehead as he always did when he was genuinely sorry.

“I promise, Y/N.” He whispered, his lips unmoving from kissing her forehead. “Come back to bed with me. You have me until tomorrow. I’m all yours.”

With a quiet acknowledgment of her words, he wrapped his arms around her, guiding her toward the bedroom. It was evident that he was full of remorse about what had happened, and he was eager to make things right. He was warm behind her, his body curving naturally against hers.

They moved together in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. The creaky floorboards beneath their feet echoed their tentative steps, and the soft cast of the morning sunlight cast a soft glow on their faces. As they stepped back into the room, the air grew heavy with unspoken words and understanding. The bed was unmade and inviting, a beacon of comfort in the otherwise empty apartment.

The sheets, still warm from their prior slumber, welcomed them in its embrace. He carefully climbed in first, patting beside himself and inviting her to join him. He watched as she hesitantly climbed in next to him, crawling under the covers before turning to face him. His eyes scanned her face, taking in its every contour, every remnant of their shared grief and unspoken understanding.

He closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. His hold was comforting yet painfully familiar, reigniting the spark that once existed between them. His fingers traced patterns on her skin, a mindless action that used to put her right to sleep. His lips pressed against her forehead in a gentle kiss, an act of apology, of promise.

“I promise, Y/N,” he whispered against her skin, his voice barely audible. The words, laden with sincerity, echoed in the room’s silence. His promise hung heavy in the air, intertwining with the quiet hum of the night. “I - I know my promises may not mean too much to you... but this time is different.”

His hold tightened around her as they lay in the quiet room, his fingers tracing familiar patterns on her skin as she turned her back to him, allowing him to pull her as close as possible, spooning her. Despite his best efforts, sleep refused to claim her. Minhyuk sensed her restlessness, her untold thoughts echoing in the silence that stretched between them.

Deciding to break the silence, he whispered, “Y/N, how have you been?”

“Minhyuk, I’ve been terrible.” Her hesitant breath hitched at his question, and she responded with brutal honesty. The words were strained, and a bitter laugh devoid of humor escaped her lips. She took a calming breath before continuing, “I cry every day, you know. And my coworkers... oh god, the pity in their eyes, Minhyuk. It’s unbearable.” Her voice shivered, her pain bleeding through her words. “Every day I waited for you... hoping for something, anything. But I was met with nothing.”

As she spoke, he felt his heart clench. Each word was like a strike against his chest. His arms instinctively closed tighter around her, an attempt to pull her closer, if possible, to shield her from any more pain. But even as he did so, he realized it was him causing the pain. His promises of change rang hollow in his ears compared to her raw and truthful suffering.

Despite his comforting hold, shared warmth, and the quiet hum of the morning light, sleep continued to elude them. In its stead, guilt, regret, and a longing for repentance again settled over Minhyuk.

Her honest confession shocked Minhyuk, its raw intensity piercing through the fragile silence. Each word she spoke was laden with a bitter agony that stung him to the core. Her reality, shaped by his indiscretions, rocked him to reality. The words ‘terrible,’ ‘crying,’ and ‘pity’ echoed in his mind, searing his heart with a guilt that was becoming increasingly unbearable.

He clung to her desperately, his embrace tightening as if to shield her from the pain he himself had inflicted. Yet each word she uttered, the honesty behind her pain, shattered his illusion of being her protector. Every confession she whispered made him understand that he was not the guardian but the monster from whom she needed protection.

The anguish in his heart welled up, and his eyes welled up with unshed tears, spreading a wet warmth on his cheeks. His breath hitched as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, hoping she wouldn’t hear his silent sobs. The realization, the hard-hitting reality of the pain he had inflicted on her, was a torment he had never predicted.

As sleep remained far from the pair, a wrenching guilt seeped into him, pooling around his heart. He held her close, his apology hanging heavily in the shared silence. His quiet tears continued to soak their shared pillow, a tangible testament to his regret and an act of repentance for his transgressions. Every ticking second, his guilt grew, blossoming into a suffocating remorse that stagnated the air around them.

His guilt reached an unbearable intensity, smothering him under its weight. With shuddering breaths and teardrop-laden eyes, he mustered up the courage to break the silence. Fragile and burdened with regret, his voice was hardly above a whisper, “Y/N... I’m... I’m so sorry.”

The words felt inadequate, a pitiful attempt to convey the ocean of remorse that swam within him. Each syllable chipped away at his composure, leaving him vulnerable and exposed to her. His tears continued to fall, leaving warm trails on his cheeks. The same tears that held no care if they wet her shoulders. His body shook with silent sobs, tremors of guilt that reverberated between them.

“I was... I was wrong,” he admitted, the words a mere breath against her hair. “I hurt you... you didn’t deserve any of this.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, his apology tainting the once comforting silence.

He broke further with each word he uttered, a solemn testament to his regret. The guilt within him crackled and ate away at his composure, each ticking second grating at his resolve. Facing the magnitude of his transgressions, he found himself on the precipice of despair, teetering on the edge of a chasm that threatened to swallow him whole.

In his state of desolation, Minhyuk clung to her, desperate for a semblance of stability as he navigated the tumultuous storm of his remorse. The anguished vulnerability that gripped him served as a stark reminder of the path of pain and distress he had inflicted upon her. Absorbed in his spiral of regret, sleep remained a distant echo, replaced by the unending cycle of apologies that streamed from his broken heart. His anguish echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the harmonious hum of the morning enveloping them.

Taking a shaky breath, he looked up at the ceiling with tear-stained eyes, his voice stuttering in his remorse. “After the fancon... I regretted not coming to see you,” he admitted the words carrying an immense weight of guilt. He could still remember the joy in the fans’ eyes, a stark contrast to the pain he had caused her. “I fucking hated myself.”

His laughter with the fans and the camaraderie he shared with them was a gut-wrenching reminder of the time he could have, should have, spent with her. Was the joy he felt worth the pain he had caused her? The answer was painfully evident.

“I consumed myself in self-hatred for weeks.” His voice was barely a whisper, fervent yet pained. Each word seemed to scrape at his throat as if the vocal embodiment of his regret was just as painful as the emotional turmoil within him. “And I... I got even more scared to message you because I knew... I knew you saw everything. I was scared you’d hate me. That you would realize I was never good for you, that you deserve someone who can give you their time.”

His confession was met with silence, further amplifying the heavy echo of his guilt. His body shook, trembling under the weight of his regret. It was almost as if confessing his remorse carved open wounds within him, the anguish seeping out and staining the silence between them.

Every passing second was a painful reminder of his what he had done, his guilt growing like a malignant tumor within him. His regret had become an unending cycle, suffocating him with remorse to the point where sleep remained a distant desire. His hushed apologies and silent sobs stayed suspended in the air in stark contrast to the harmonic hum of the night, filling the room with an unbearable heaviness.

Lost in his storm of regret, Minhyuk clung to her, yearning for the stability and warmth she always provided him, a stark reminder of what he had so carelessly discarded.

“Say something...please,” he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper in the dense stillness. Despite his trembling form and tear-streaked face, he mustered the courage to break the silence again. The void of her response scared him, the silence morphing into a beast threatening to consume his sanity. He was terrified of losing her, losing the only solace he had known amidst the chaos he had created. “Please Y/N...”

In a desperate attempt to see her reaction, to gauge her feelings, he gently turned her to face him. The sight that met him was as tormenting as the silence. Her features, usually radiant and warm, were dull and tear-streaked, mirroring his own despair. Her silent tears were a stark, painful echo of his actions, of the harm he had caused.

The reality of their shared suffering intensified his guilt, making it an almost tangible presence in the room. His apology felt inadequate, a feeble attempt against the pain he saw mirrored in her eyes. His wrongdoings and choices led them to this point of shared agony. Every tick of the clock reminded him of his actions and the remorse that was now their companion.

The air was heavy, almost tangible, with the weight of his guilt, the despair radiating from him in waves. Sleep remained a distant dream, replaced by the relentless grip of regret tightening around him. The muffled echo of his sobs and the harsh contrast of their anguish against the peaceful morning only highlighted the gravity of the turmoil within them. Clinging to her, he sought solace amidst this storm, the warmth of her presence amidst the cold dread of his regret. The realization of the depth of pain he had inflicted loomed ominously, a cruel taunt of the love he had so recklessly mishandled.

She made an attempt to speak, yet her voice wavered, choked by tears and the overwhelming wave of hurt he had inflicted upon her. The sound, or rather the lack of it, crushed him further. He held her tighter as though the strength of his embrace could blot out the cruel reality of their situation.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he gasped between sobs. Apologies poured from him, a cascade of remorse, grief, and desperation. Each word was a palpable fragment of his guilt, echoing in the oppressive silence of their shared space. His voice was a broken whisper, the raw edge of emotions making it almost inaudible.

“I’ll... I’ll do better,” he promised, clinging to her like a lifeline as if she was the only thing anchoring him in his sea of regret. “I’ll try to... to wrap up early, be home with you... You need - deserve better. More than I’ve given you.”

The admission ripped through him, a brutal acknowledgment of how profoundly he had failed her. The hands that held her trembled, reverberating the aftershocks of his guilt through her. She was crying silently, a damning testament to his actions.

His guilt was a suffocating entity in the room, a hovering ghost casting long shadows over what was once their respite. His hushed promises and tear-laden apologies hung in the air, each a testimony of his pain and regret. His desperation echoed in the cruel morning silence, bouncing off the walls and seeping into every corner of their shared space. It was an inescapable reminder of his recklessness, a stark contrast to the serenity the morning glow, under different circumstances, would usually bring. His hell was one of his own making, a torment born from his choices, his regret a constant companion.

“Maybe... maybe I don’t deserve you, Y/N. Fuck, I definitely don’t deserve you,” he confessed, burying his face in her hair. “But I need you... I can’t do this without you. I’m too selfish to let you go,” he admitted his voice a thread of barely contained anguish. His hands, trembling and unsure, gently cupped her face, his thumb lightly tracing the trail of tears that stained her cheeks. Her anguish, a damning testament of his actions, was clear and evident in the tear tracks. “Is that so wrong? Why am I so fucking selfish with you when I push you away? I’m a monster.”

As if to assuage his guilt and offer a wordless apology, he pressed tender kisses on her forehead, temples, and cheeks, each one a silent vow. His lips lingered a moment longer on each tear-stained spot as if hoping to kiss away the hurt he himself had caused.

The room was filled with his whispered promises, his broken apologies, each word raw and heavy with regret. The atmosphere clung onto each syllable, echoing his desperation throughout their shared space. He clung to her, his lifeline in the turbulent sea of guilt and regret. Her warmth was a harsh reminder of what he stood to lose, of the love he had so foolishly mishandled.

Despite the despair that gripped him, despite the guilt that threatened to consume him, Minhyuk held onto hope. A hope that was encapsulated in her, a hope that she would find it in her heart to forgive him, to give him another chance. Yet, her silence and tears tore at him more painfully than her words ever could. His hell was a torment of his own making, a grave he had dug out for himself with his recklessness and disregard.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice trembled, mirroring her emotions. Wracked with sobs and choked with tears, she uttered, “Minhyuk...”

The sound of his name, laced with so much pain, hurt more than any words of reprimand could. It was a brutal echo of his actions, a painful reflection of the harm he had caused. Yet despite the sting, he clung onto the vestiges of her voice, desperate for any semblance of a response, validation that she was still willing to communicate with him, to give him a chance to repent.

“Do you remember that day at the amusement park, Minhyuk?” she whispered, a hint of nostalgia creeping into her voice. Her voice trembled, telling the tale of a time when they were both younger and less burdened. “You were trying to impress me by winning me that stuffed toy, but you fell into the dunk tank instead. Everyone was laughing... and you... You were soaking wet, shivering, but still grinning like a fool.”

She let out a shaky laugh, a warm yet tormented sound that briefly dispelled the oppressive atmosphere. He found himself chuckling along, the memory of that embarrassing incident being a bittersweet reminder of happier times. Her soft laughter was like a ray of sunlight piercing through storm clouds, illuminating the dark corners of his guilt.

Slowly, the gloom of the room retracts a little. As if the clouds decided they had spent enough time blocking the sun’s shine. Her laughter echoed lightly against the walls, bouncing back to them like a tender caress, a small salve on their shared wounds. Minhyuk closed his eyes, holding onto the sound of her laughter, onto the memory of that day, onto the little bit of hope it offered, and let a careful sigh of relief escape his lips.

“I remember, Y/N... I was drenched, and everyone was laughing. But you...” He pressed closer to her, his laughter dying as he whispered, his voice dropping lower, a thread of emotion weaving through his tone, “You were there, standing up for me, your laughter the brightest thing I had ever heard. I fell for you even more that day.”

The mood had been lightened a bit, but the truth of their situation still loomed heavy around them. Yet, in that moment, they found a shared comfort in a cherished memory, a respite from the storm that still had to be faced. They clung to each other, the story of their past serving as a small beacon of light amidst the darkness of their present.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered again, his voice barely above a breath, a fragile testament to his pain. Drawing her as close as he could, he locked eyes with her. Tears formed watery rims around his eyes, the ghosts of the laughter from their shared memory fading into the wind. “I’m sorry I was a ghost. Everything you worried about and begged for to not happen… it happened, and it was my own fault. It was all me.”

His thumb caressed her cheek gently, wiping away the fresh flood of tears that threatened to spill from her beautiful eyes. The moment’s intimacy, the raw emotion, turned every touch, every whisper into a poignant echo in the hollow silence.

“Kiss me, Minhyuk,” she said. Just as his face neared hers, ready to lose himself in her again, she held up a hand. The words that softly passed her lips gave him pause. Despite the curtain of tears, her eyes had a determined glint, her voice carrying a wavering note of resilience.

Respect for her wishes and his own yearning propelled him to gently press his lips against hers. It was a kiss filled with regret, desperate promises of reformation, and the faint hope of forgiveness. Their shared pain resonated in this exchange, this moment of desperate connection. His guilt, her forgiveness, and their collective hope for a better tomorrow were all locked in this lingering kiss, a poignant denouement to the regret-filled morning.

She gently pulled away from the kiss, her gaze steady yet filled with unshed tears. “Can we... Can we re-do last night?”

The question hung in the air between them, fragile as glass yet as heavy as lead.

His heart swelled in his chest. Was this a chance for redemption? For atonement? He searched her eyes, desperately seeking affirmation, and found his answer in the vulnerable depths of her gaze.

“We don’t have to...” he started, his voice almost a plea, a need to reassure her that there was no obligation, pressure, or expectation. But she silenced him with another kiss, her hands cradling his face.

“I want to... with you,” she said softly, her gaze steadfast on him and her heart bared open. “I want to make love to you, Minhyuk.”

With a shaky breath, Minhyuk nodded, his voice a soft whisper in the silent room. “If that is what you wish, Y/N, I am here,” he assured her, his eyes shining with gratitude and a newfound determination.

He leaned in to gently kiss her neck, trailing his lips down with reverence. His kisses were feather-light, yet they marked her skin with a delicate heat. His fingers traced non-specific patterns on her skin, feeling the familiar warmth beneath his touch. He held her with one arm, using his free hand to explore her physique, treading on the known yet novel territory.

Minhyuk moved cautiously, letting his hands roam over her body, every move a silent question seeking her approval. At each motion, she would hum a soft affirmation, encouraging him to continue. He took his time, savoring every response and every gasp of pleasure that escaped her lips. All he wanted was to make her feel cherished and treasured. Like he should have before.

Her pulse quickened beneath his touch, their breaths hitching in sync. The sound of his name on her lips sounded like a prayer. This time, it was different. It wasn’t about seeking solace or escaping but about reaffirming and reminding each other of the love they once passionately shared.

This intimate moment was a far cry from their previous encounter. There was an eminent sense of respect and a deep understanding of each other’s needs and boundaries. It was about seeking healing, seeking comfort in their shared desire, and assent to rewrite the unwelcome memories of the previous night.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin, his voice fading into a husky rumble. He dipped his head low, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder. She smiled, her eyes filled with unspoken emotions. “You’re so beautiful. A daydream.”

Minhyuk’s breath hitched as his fingers slowly slid down, journeying across her body. His touch was feather-light yet deliberate, tracing the curves of her form with the reverence of a lover enshrined in history, familiar yet intoxicatingly novel.

He carefully slid a hand lower, his fingertips gently grazing through the soft fabric of her undergarment. Her quick breath intake was all the approval he needed to push. Further, his fingers now tracing delicate patterns against her, raising goosebumps of pleasure in their wake.

His other hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone in gentle arcs, his gaze locked onto her expression, a silent plea for continued affirmation in her eyes. Her lips parted, releasing a soft moan at his touch, her eyes half-lidded with ecstasy yet still holding that deep trust for him.

His actions were slow and punctuated, each a statement, a question, a request for consent. Time seemed to still to the rhythm of their beating hearts as they journeyed closer to that peak of intimacy, poised on the brink of pleasure and transcendence.

As his digits began to delicately explore her, their shared breaths grew more erratic, the soulful intimacy of the moment amplifying the sensory pleasure. A soft gasp echoed in the room, her hands clutching at his shoulders, a hushed plea of his name creating an orchestra of sounds in the otherwise silent room, adding to the melody of their shared union.

His fingers continued their delicate exploration, rhythms matching the steady rise and fall of her chest, creating a symphony of whispered pleas and strangled gasps. Her hands curled tighter into his shoulders, her breath hitching in sync with his every careful movement.

The room filled with their shared exhales of pleasure; the whispered utterances of each other’s names were a testament to their surrendered control. His attentions only intensified, the deliberate movements of his fingers heightening her pleasure, each apt touch making her arch into his touch.

His focus was intense, his gaze never leaving her face, quietly seeking her consent while noting each expressive tell of her rising pleasure on her face. His name fell from her lips, a whispered plea, her eyes lidded heavy with desire and trust.

She clutched him closer, her fingers digging into his bare skin in response to his skilled attention, each movement bringing her closer to that precipice of breathtaking ecstasy. He could feel her body begin to tighten around his fingers, her breathing ragged.

With a final arch of her back and a hushed gasp of his name, he felt her shatter against his touch, their shared breaths the only sound in the still, moonlit room. The intimacy of their rendezvous echoed in the otherwise quiet space, bearing testament to their tender, healing union.

They lay there together in the immediate aftermath, her body still trembling from the recent onslaught of pleasure. Her breath gradually slowed to match his, their chests rising and falling in sync. For a moment, they simply basked in each other’s presence, the depth of their shared connection enveloping them like a comforting blanket.

Minhyuk pressed gentle kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and nose —respectful, worshipful. His fingertips traced lazy patterns on her skin, each touch further solidifying their undeniable bond. In response to his movements, she entwined her fingers with his and sighed contentedly, her breath fanning over his neck.

“Minhyuk, I... I want more,” she murmured, her gaze locking onto his, filled to the brim with trust and unguarded passion. He hummed in acknowledgment, eyebrows raised in silent question. “Please...”

Visibly taken aback by her words, Minhyuk searched her eyes for any trace of doubt, but all he found was sincere desire and earnest anticipation. As a form of consent, he nodded and pressed his lips to hers in a heated kiss before allowing his touch to travel further, intent on satisfying her newfound curiosity.

His fingers slowly began to undo the remaining clothing barriers between them, his gaze never leaving hers, asking for silent affirmation with every button undone; every inch of fabric slipped off her body. The metabolism of his heartbeat mirrored in the anticipation twinkling in her eyes. She reciprocated his efforts, tugging at his boxers, their clothes pooling at their feet.

“Can I...?” she asked, her tone laced with uncertainty as her gaze met his, a mixture of desire and determination etched into her features. He nodded, aware of her unspoken desire, and satuating himself comfortably against the headboard.

She moved to straddle him, her knees dug into the mattress on either side of his hips. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for him; his breath hitched in his chest at the contact. He watched her from beneath half-lidded eyes, noting the flush that spread across her cheeks, the slight shudder that ran through her spine as she began to sink down onto him.

Greater sensation overwhelmed him as she adjusted to him, her pace deliberately slow. His hands moved to rest on her hips, aiding her in finding a rhythm that brought pleasure to them both. Her head fell back, lips parted in a silent moan as her body moved against his, the sound of their mingled breaths filling the room.

Her movement was a dance, beautifully rhythmic and sinfully enticing. Each roll of her hips into his served as a testament to their shared desire, every shared moan a proof of their unspoken passion. She leaned forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss, their bodies meeting each other’s in a rhythm only they understood.

As she set the rhythm, he moved with her, hands traveling the expanse of her bare body, relishing the softness of her skin. His fingers traced the curves and valleys with a sense of awe, fingers dipping into places that earned him soft sighs and gasps of pleasure from her lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he managed to say, his low rasp vibrating against her skin, amplifying their ongoing intimacy. His gaze traveled the length of her, taking in her blossoming form, flushing under his touch, half-obscured in the diffused moonlight streaming in through the window. “You are everything to me. My world, my breath, my heartbeat.”

Acknowledgment of his heartfelt compliment was a slight hitch in the movement of her hips and an appreciative nudge against his hands, pressing him to explore further. Her body was a work of art, each movement sinfully enticing, making him hard to resist.

The sight of her, eyes glittering with pleasure, body moving fluidly against his in the most tantalizing way, was nothing short of empowering. He reached up and cupped her face, drawing her down for a deep, passionate kiss, their tongues dancing with the same rhythm their bodies had set. He conveyed his affection, admiration, and reverence through their lips meeting.

She moaned against his mouth, her body arching into his touch, seeking more, offering more. His hands guided her movements, each stroke setting her senses on fire. Desire mounted as their bodies meshed, the fervent connection sending them spiraling toward a climactic crest. His name rolled off her lips in a breathless whisper, a sweet melody to his ears, pushing him further into passionate depths.

As she continued to move, he marveled at the sight of her in the throes of pleasure. His hands explored the expanse of her body. Each touch, each caress, was a silent praise.

“You’re a vision.” he breathed out, his voice heavy with ardor. Her skin, flushed and glowing in the dimly lit room, encouraged him further. His fingers traced the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips; every part of her underneath his hands was a testament to her beauty.

Each roll of her hips against his elicited a low moan from him, each sound spurring her on. His praise, their shared desire, and their intimate connection continued to fuel their actions. She bent down, pressing her lips onto his as she continued to ride him, matching the rhythm of their shared breathing.

Their bodies moved in sync; the feel of her soft skin against his and the expression of pleasure etched on her face was nothing short of intoxicating. He relished in her reaction, watching as she arched her back, lost in the pleasure he was providing her.

When the climax arrived, it was like a wave crashing over them. She cried out his name, her body shuddering with the overwhelming sensation. He followed soon after, his body tensing as he reached the peak of his pleasure. Nothing but their shared breaths filled the room, the sound echoing like a testament to their passion. A shared intimacy that was more than just physical, a bond that was deep and unfathomably profound.

As the waves of pleasure began to decrease and the heightened sensitivity slowly faded, they found each other tangled in a comfortable embrace, their bodies still humming from the recent high. He held her close, her body nestling perfectly against him, their heartbeats synchronizing in the tranquility of the afterglow.

“Are you okay?” he murmured into her hair, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare skin, the intimacy of the question matching the intimacy they had just shared. A simple “Mhm.” was her content response, her warm breath fanning over his chest, lulling him into a sense of serene comfort.

He rolled onto his side, pulling her along with him, tucking her against his body so that her head rested on his chest, right over his heart. His fingers explored her body in a different way now, absent of lust but filled with an overwhelming affection. His touch was tender this time – a worshipful appreciation of her presence and trust in him.

“Promise me,” he began, his voice but a soft murmur seeping into the room’s stillness. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those usually playful eyes now filled with a seriousness that she rarely saw, “Promise me we’ll always be there for each other like we are now.”

“I promise,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, right above his heart where his promise was undoubtedly echoed. The seriousness of his gaze made her heart flutter, and despite the mild surprise, she knew there wasn’t a single doubt in her mind. His arm around her tightened, a silent acknowledgment of their shared promise.

From then on, it wasn’t just the cuddling or the lingering kisses they shared. It was the unsaid promises and the whispered vows amid silence. It was how he looked at her like she was his entire world. They held each other as if reassuring themselves of the other’s presence. It was the intimacy and the affection that filled the room – something that was long overdue and now would never be lacking again.

“I’m going to miss you, Min.” She uttered. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if she was afraid her words might shatter the tranquility of their intimate moment.

Minhyuk let out a soft sigh, his fingers lightly stroking her hair. He didn’t want her to worry about the future, not when they were wrapped up in each other’s arms in the present.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He murmured, his tone gentle, reassuring. “I’m here tomorrow, too. I’m all yours. We could stay in bed all day, order out if we have to.”

When she nodded against his chest, he continued. “And when I’m done with my service, I will take some time off. We can spend that time together. No distractions, no obligations. Just you and me.”

“Promise?” She asked, her voice quivering slightly, her eyes sparkled with unshed tears at his words, her heart swelling with love and affection for him.

“I promise,” he affirmed without hesitation, tightening his arms around her in a comforting hold. His plans were sincere, a future sculpted around them. His words were an unsaid promise, an understanding that their bond isn’t transitory, just paused for the better. The weight of his words hung in the air, an oath sworn and received, a pledge of a future where their love held prominence.

“And there’s something else I promise,” he said, his voice quiet yet steady as he locked his gaze with hers, a seriousness reflecting in his usually playful eyes. He took a deep breath as if gathering his courage before continuing. “When I’m done serving, and I’m back, I... I want to marry you.”

The words sunk into the room’s silence, like a stone thrown in a still lake, leaving ripples of reactions on her face. His proposal was straightforward and earnest, a confession that came from the depths of his heart. He was offering a future, not of doubts but of certainty. He was offering a life together to brave any storm that would come their way.

“I’ve thought about this for a while,” he admitted, his arms holding her closer. “I know it’s a big decision, and I don’t want you to rush your answer.” He sighed, his thumb gently brushing a tear away that had trickled down her cheek. “I want you to be sure.”

“But yeah,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I’m selfish. I want you by my side. Your presence and support… mean more to me than anything else. I want us to face the future together, no matter how tough the tides get. I want us to stand together, always.”

His confession was an admittance of his feelings, indicating the depth of their relationship. Despite his remark about being selfish, it was anything but that. His words were sincere, representing a pure soul who loved unconditionally. The promise was less of an assurance and more of a humble request stemming from intense love and admiration for her.

“What do you think?” Minhyuk asked, his voice heavy with anticipation, his eyes searching hers for an answer. He wanted to know her thoughts and feelings about this proposal and their future together.

“I think we’re going to have a beautiful future together,” she responded, her voice filled with a rare kind of certainty. A soft smile stretched across her face, her eyes twinkling with joy. She’d been waiting for him to voice these words for a long time.

“I cannot wait to find out,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Minhyuk felt a surge of joy, a relief washing over him. He pulled her closer into an embrace, one that was light with promise and happiness. They cuddled together and held each other close, letting the silence encase them as they reveled in the promise of a future together.

Their story concluded on a hopeful note; the future was uncertain, but their feelings for each other were not. The promises they made and the love they shared overshadowed everything else. The true story was just beginning, a journey of two souls intertwined, bound by a promise of a lifetime.

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x x reader #minhyuk x reader #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #minhyuk smut #minhyuk imagines #minhyuk imagine smut #minhyuk imagine angst #minhyuk angst #monsta x angst

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 3 months

Text

The Dirt (Your Version)

Summary: Meeting Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee was a coincidence. Being friends was a choice. But falling in love with them both was beyond your control.

A rewrite of The Dirt with all the highs and lows of Mötley Crüe from your perspective.

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Tommy Lee x Reader, Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, death, blood, injury

Previous Chapter

Chapter 9- The Accident

Slowly, your eyes began to flutter open, but everything was blurry and smoky. The sharp tang of gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air as you blinked trying to clear your vision only to be blinded by bright red and blue flashing lights.

In the stretched-out seconds that followed, every detail was becoming horrifyingly clear.

Vince crashed the car.

Shock ripped through you, icy and paralysing. Your hearing suddenly came back all at once like a switch had been flicked. Sirens wailed loudly in the distance, and you found yourself shaking, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away allowing the pain to seep through.

The entire right side of your body felt like it was on fire. Blood was plastered to the side of your face, matting in your hair and trickling down your neck, warm and sticky. Your right arm was cut open in various places, blood and glass covering your skin.

Your thoughts tumbled over each other in a frantic whirl as you tried to comprehend what just happened.

Ignoring your throbbing body, you pushed yourself up from where you had fallen between the seats and surveyed your surroundings. Cold fear wrapped around you, constricting your breath as you took in the sight of your destroyed truck. The impact had crumpled the entire passenger side of the car like a piece of paper. The spiderweb of cracks sprawled across the windshield obscured your vision of the outside, but it wasn't the outside you were worried about.

It was Vince.

Was he okay? Was Razzle okay?

Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild drum, each beat echoing your rising panic.

"V-Vince?" You tried to call out, but your voice was nothing but a cracked whimper.

Suddenly the back of your brother's head popped up from the driver's seat as he slowly looked around taking in the carnage around him. The radio continued to play cheerfully in the background, a stark contrast to the scene of destruction.

"Y/N? Are you- fuck. Are you okay?" Your brother groaned glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

Your eyes met Vince's, his face ashen and terrified, mirroring your own fear.

"I... I don't know." You mumbled wincing as you reached up and touched your face, your fingertips coming away stained bright crimson.

Blood trickled down from your forehead blinding your vision momentarily as you blinked away the sudden redness in your eyes. Pieces of shattered glass lodged in your right arm twinkled menacingly in the streetlights. The spilled alcohol over the backseat now seeping into the old leather seemed absurdly irrelevant in the face of destruction as you dipped your head back and closed your eyes trying to get your breathing under control.

"Wake up, man. Raz, wake up." Vince's broken voice spoke through the deafening silence. "Hey. Wake up, man!"

Your eyes snapped open at your brother's voice. His head was down looking at something and you forced yourself to shift in the backseat despite your aching body screaming at you in protest. You leant over the front seat with a wince and what you saw had your entire body freezing like ice.

Razzle was dead in Vince's lap.

He was dead.

In a blur of motion, police, paramedics and firefighters swarmed over the crash scene.

It all happened so fast.

Razzle was pulled out through the side window of the wreck. His body lifeless and unmoving in the arms of the paramedics. Vince was helped out through the same window and the firefighters managed to cut away the broken backdoor to get to you.

Once a paramedic had extracted you from the mangled vehicle and bought you to the ambulance, you took a look back at the horrific site you had been rescued from. The wreck was a gruesome sight, and it was one that you knew you would not be able to forget anytime soon.

The world around you was a swirl of chaos and confusion, fear wrapping around you like a stifling cloak. Police Officers asked a thousand questions while the paramedic pulled shards of glass from the right side of your body. That arm was now wrapped in a thick white bandage that already had bright red blood seeping through the material, but the paramedic was more focused and concerned about the cuts across the side of your face to do anything about it.

It should hurt.

You knew it should be hurting more than it did. Your arm was covered in gashes and in desperate need of stitches and you knew your face was probably worse, but you could barely feel anything.

You just felt numb.

A small voice in the back of your head was telling you that you were in shock, but that little piece of information did not help in the slightest.

The paramedic was speaking to you. Her lips were moving, but you could barely hear a word she was saying over the loud ringing in your ears. You stared at the mangled wreck that had once been your truck, a lump forming in your throat.

There was another car nearby that was totally destroyed, but you had no idea who was inside or if they had survived.

"Where... where's Vince?" You questioned, speaking up for the first time. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

"He's fine. The police are speaking with him." The paramedic answered nodding over her shoulder.

You looked in that direction and spotted Vince sitting on the curb, his arms wrapped around his ankles while he rocked back and forth. A Police Officer stood beside him writing stuff down in a notebook while watching your brother.

"I-I need- I need to see him." You stuttered, stumbling out the back of the ambulance.

"Ma'am, I need you to sit down. You'll be taken to the hospital shortly because the head wounds-"

You drained out the paramedic's words when you saw Tommy, Nikki and a few other familiar faces from the party suddenly rushing towards the crash scene on foot. The mansion was just down the road from here, they must have seen all the lights and sirens.

Police suddenly blocked their path from getting to Vince just as another Police Officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs and grabbed your brother's arm.

They were arresting him.

"No!" You shouted, shoving past the paramedic and rushing across the street just as the cop locked the cuffs around your brothers' wrists. "No! You can't take him! You can't!"

Vince glanced over at you briefly, his face pale and drained of all emotion as his tear-filled eyes locked with yours and he shook his head silently at you.

"No!" You screamed, hot tears rising in your eyes.

This had to be a dream. This had to be some fucked up sick nightmare. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

Suddenly, Tommy and Nikki were in front of you. They held you back to stop you from doing anything stupid while you watched on helplessly as your brother got thrown into the back of a police car.

"Vince..." You sobbed, tears now falling down your face mixing in with the blood.

Then, all at once, your adrenaline subsided, and the pain started.

Your body crumbled, but Nikki was still holding you, saving you from crashing to the ground. He slowly lowered you down to the bitumen, pulling you into his lap as you cried, head pounding and arm aching.

"It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." Tommy frantically repeated kneeling in front of you but you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure himself or you more. "It's going to be okay. Vince is fine. It's all okay."

That was a lie though. Vince wasn't fine. You weren't fine, and Razzle was dead.

Nikki tightened his hold around you as if sensing your internal thoughts and you buried your bloodied face into the crook of his neck and cried.

Vince ended up getting arrested for drunk driving and vehicular manslaughter. He refused to let you visit him in jail. The few times you had gone there, he made the guards turn you away and when you tried to call, he didn't answer.

The people in the other car involved in the accident were both critically injured.

You hadn't been wearing a seatbelt. You shouldn't be alive, but you were. And in a cruel twist of fate's knife, Razzle was the one that was dead.

How was that fair?

Nikki and Tommy went with you to the hospital and refused to leave your side. After getting over 50 staples and stitches on your face and arm, you were allowed to go home.

Tommy remained by your side the whole time Vince was behind bars despite now having a new girlfriend, Heather Locklear, and should be spending time with her and not you. Nikki was the one who drove you home from the hospital and helped you get settled in but then he disappeared, not that you blamed him. What was he meant to do? You were fine, well, not really, but you didn't need a babysitter.

Once your brother was released from jail, you gave him a few days to see if he would try and contact you, but after a week of radio silence, you walked to his mansion to confront him.

He only lived a few houses down and you hadn't bought a new car yet. Not that you wanted too anyway. The thought of being inside a car again made you feel uneasy, so you stuck to walking.

Sherise answered the door when you knocked, and her face visibly flinched seeing you for the first time since the accident.

The stitches had been taken out, but the healing scars were now a permanent reminder of that horrible night. Your right upper arm was covered in various scars, but the worst was the thick jagged one that snaked down your right shoulder to your elbow that looked as sharp as the glass shard that had caused it. The raw scar made you wince whenever touched, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain you felt inside whenever you thought about the accident.

By some small miracle the scar ran perfectly down between your tattoo, splitting 'Mötley' and 'Crüe' in half without ruining the ink.

It was easy enough to cover your arm with long sleeves, but the scars on your face were not so easy to hide. Those discoloured scars that ran across your face served as a constant reminder of the accident. A reminder that you didn't want.

Tommy kept telling you not to hide them -not that you really could anyway- he said they looked badass, but all you saw was ugliness when you looked in the mirror.

"Y/N... I'm so sorry." Sharise whispered, her eyes shifting over each scar before settling on your eyes.

You smiled sadly at her, "how's Vince?"

"Not good." She admitted biting her lip. "I don't know how to help him with his guilt. He keeps pushing me away."

You sighed, "let me talk to him."

"He's out the back."

You nodded and made your way through the mansion before stepping out the backdoor to find your brother leaning against the railing staring out at the ocean.

"Why are you avoiding me?" You asked gently as if you were speaking to a terrified child not wanting to spook him.

Vinces shoulders tensed at your voice, but he refused to turn to face you. He kept staring out at the water, so you slowly walked over and leant against the railing beside him looking out at the golden sand stretching for miles down the beach.

There were a few dog walkers wandering along the shoreline. A young couple were sitting by a picnic further down the beach, but it was the two young kids out in the water on surfboards that caught your attention.

They couldn't have been older than 12, and it seemed like the little boy was teaching his sibling how to surf. Vince was watching them too and you smiled softly at the kids thinking back to when Vince had taught you how to surf at the same age.

"Did you see that?" Young Vince called out, running along the shore with his surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Yeah, I saw that!" His mother answered enthusiastically.

Her long white dress blew in the wind, sand covering her sandals as she smiled brightly behind her beautiful blonde hair.

"That wave was like seven feet!" You shouted, pointing at the waves in awe after watching Vince surf.

"10 more minutes? I want to teach Y/N." Vince pleaded, looking up at his mother with begging brown eyes.

Your stepmother looked out at the ocean worriedly before glancing between you and Vince with a small nod, "alright, 10 more minutes. But any longer than that, dad's going to be mad, okay?"

"Come on, Y/N." Vince encouraged, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the water. "You're going to love surfing!"

Nearly 10 minutes ticked by of silence while you watched the mini versions of yourselves out in the surf, but you weren't going to push your brother to speak.

Vince had just done jailtime. You knew without a doubt that he was blaming himself for Razzle's death which, yeah, okay, it was his fault for driving drunk, but it was a mistake and he owned up to that mistake.

"You don't have to talk about it. But I'm here if you want to." You offered, glancing over at him.

Vince sucked in a shallow shaky breath before he turned his head and his gleaming, tear-filled brown eyes met yours. Your heart shattered into a million pieces seeing your older brother look so utterly destroyed and without saying anything you held your arms out and he instantly stepped into your embrace.

His body trembled in your arms while you hugged him fighting back tears of your own as your brother cried softly in your arms. He needed you to be the strong one right now. You could cry about this later, right now, you had to be strong for him.

"I-I killed him." Vince whimpered. "I-I... I killed Razzle."

You squeezed your eyes shut trying to force your own tears at bay as you hugged your brother tighter.

"It's not your fault." You whispered, but he shook his head against you.

"It is. It is. I- I fucking killed him."

"No. It could have happened to any one of us. It's not on you. Raz made his choice to get in the truck. It was an accident." You insisted, pulling away and grabbing your brothers' shoulders holding him in front of you, but he kept his head lowered with his hair covering his face. "Vince, look at me. Please, look at me."

Reluctantly, Vince lifted his head exposing his tear-streaked face as he stared at you from behind his blonde locks, but his eyes flashed up to the harrowing scars that painted the side of your face.

One bloodied scar ran down through your eyebrow narrowly missing your eye and slicing your cheek below it in a perfect line. The other was engraved along your jaw, half hidden by your hair, but Vince could still see it and his expression dropped into instant guilt.

"Fuck. Y/N-"

"It's not on you." You insisted, shaking your head. "It is not on you."

"Your face..."

"They're just scars." You reassured, but your brother looked ready to start crying all over again. "It's fine, Vin. I look kinda badass with them." You added with a gentle chuckle causing Vince's mouth to tick up into a small smile which you were going to call a win.

In truth, you hated the scars.

They took away your hopes and dreams because backup singers were meant to be beautiful, and the scars were not. How could you possibly stand on stage while looking like this? You couldn't.

But were you going to admit all that to your brother? Absolutely not. He already felt guilty enough as it was. He didn't need to hear or worry about your new insecurities.

Next Chapter

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#motley crue #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx x you #tommy lee #tommy lee fanfic #tommy lee x reader #vince neil #mick mars #the dirt #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue x reader #80s rock #80s metal #pov

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red-riding-wood · 4 months

Note

Hi darling, I have a request for a drabble if you feel inspired. ❛ people like us don’t get to decide when we’re done. ❜ from the prompt list with Arthur Shelby.

People Like Us

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x F!Reader

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Warnings: graphic depiction of suicide attempts, blood and cutting, angst, comfort

WC: 1848

Definitely not just a drabble, got a bit carried away with this one. I'm sorry this is so late, Lee! Getting back on track with writing.

You’d thought everyone had left. But Arthur had remained; he always did, for at least a few minutes after, to make sure you were safe. He stood outside your door, watching the coppers stationed in the darkened alleys, occasionally knocking one’s teeth out when he didn’t think they were taking their watch over you seriously. Sometimes, when the night was most quiet, and the voices of those he’d damned did not plague his mind, he thought about admitting things to you – feelings, that you likely did not reciprocate.

Tonight, your bathroom light had been on, and your screeching pierced the walls of the residence and filled the night air of Birmingham like some sort of banshee.

Your eyes were foggy when the door swung open and the man nearly slipped making his way to you, a bruised hand clasping around the porcelain of the tub and a few locks of hair wisping over his eyes before the same hand was wrapping around you, pulling you up. Crimson streaked your vision as it dribbled down your wrist, pooling around you, staining the bathwater a pale, sickening shade of red. For one dreadful moment, you feared you might never escape it, that you would drown with the tang of bitter iron on your tongue and the blood-water would swallow your eyes, your throat, your ears.

But Arthur’s palm in yours was strong, and warm; it pumped a new life in your veins and sent shivers along your numb, tingling flesh, and heaved you from the waters of death in one dizzying sweep. Head rolling back, long fingers caught you, cradling you against the heat of his chest, the palpitations of his wild heart coming to you in shockwaves. Yours were frighteningly faint in comparison to his.

You shivered in his arms – cold, suddenly, past the heat of the adrenaline – as your bare flesh met the biting air, curling in on yourself like a child. Everything took a second or two to register, maybe more – did time even exist? It must have; it must have, because you were fading fast. And Arthur was holding you, and your wet, metallic lips buried themselves in the soft fabric of his chest, desperate to hear the sound of his heartbeat drown out yours. Desperate to cling to the living.

“D – don’t let it take me,” you mumbled into his chest. He smelled like blood, bullets and sweat. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. He smelled like the lavender oil you’d given him to help him sleep among his demons. He smelled like home.

A thumb stroked lovingly over your drenched scalp. How could the same hands that had strangled a poor man to death last week be so gentle to you?

“No one’s takin’ you, love.” His hot breath sent another shiver through you, down the nape of your neck. But his words quivered. “Not as long as there is breath in me goddamn breast.”

The remnants of the red tide clung to your bare skin, ringlets of drenched hair clinging to your neck, threatening to choke the life from you. In the pitch black of your mind, it frothed at the seams, spilling into the void that seemed to span wider, and wider, until you were lost in the middle of an ocean.

“Arth… Ar…” Delirious, spinning – everything was spinning. Your nails dug into his skin, fabric bunching in your shaking fist, and you gasped, aftershave and blood and lavender all flooding your senses before blackness came to you in a staccato rhythm, once and twice and once and twice and twice and once and thrice…

---

Your blood was starting to dry on Arthur’s shirt when he came inside to see you. He’d injured two men when they tried taking you from him during your blood transfusion, and he’d nearly killed another as he’d been dragged to the alleyway behind the hospital. There, he kicked at brick walls ‘til the leather of shoes peeled, and punched ‘til his shoulders screamed in their sockets and his knuckles split open. Cursed that damned god of his for letting this happen to you, threatened that if he did not return you to him, he would bring Hell down on the heavens.

His neck still burned with an inflamed red mark where he’d torn the chain of the cross from his neck, the metal now stained with your blood, too. Everything, everything was painted in it, everywhere he looked, and his own bloodied knuckles clenched around the cross tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t know – “

“Just lemme see ‘er,” Arthur told the nurse, the gruff of his voice nearly cracking from his wailing and screaming in the alley. The only reason they had let him in was because of the name he bore, and once he knew you were okay he’d personally see to it that each one of them understood the repercussions of denying a Shelby.

Like a mouse under the stare of a mad dog, the nurse scurried off, doors shutting and leaving the room quiet save for the steady beeping, and the creak of the floor beneath Arthur’s torn shoes.

Watery eyes took in your half-conscious form, curled up in the hospital bed just as you’d been curled in his arms, a light gown draped over you. You were still shivering.

While relief settled in the pit of his twisting stomach, grief still knotted his throat, and as much as he tried to hold the tears back, he tasted both salt and blood on his tongue as he lowered himself beside you, bloodied and ringed fingers ghosting across your arms, as if fearful that he would hurt you.

A sliver of white light tore along the blackness, and your eyes squinted shut, a pain throbbing in your skull. Every thread of sinew and marrow seemed to ache, deep inside your body where you didn’t even know pain could exist, and the red tide lapped at the blurred edges of your mind as you lay flat on your little island in the middle of the sea. The rock beneath you was soft as you rolled your head over, a clean, unfamiliar scent seeming to send your mind into turmoil, shifting your reality between the light and dark, like a pendulum that swung across the white of the heavens, an eclipse that brought you pain and light one moment, darkness and cold the next.

The soft touch of the angel was warm along your arms as the light shattered the black sky, and you gasped. Its touch waned, and you arched your back to sit up, hand reaching feebly for it in the unknown. “Angel…” you thought you breathed. “Angel… don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”

Don’t leave me here to be swallowed by the red tide.

Your fingers grasped something tangible, something soft and warm, a fire burning beneath softness. Flesh, hot against your palms. Lavender and iron called to you, and finally, strong hands wrapped around you to pull you close.

“I ain’t no angel,” a familiar, lulling voice spoke as light cleaved the darkness in two and tore it, strip by strip, from your starry gaze. “But I ain’t goin’ anywhere, love.”

“Arthur.” You smiled around the name, lashes fluttering as you blinked against his blurry visage. Messy strands of hair flopped over his winter-blue eyes, and you clung to the collar of his shirt, dizzy but supported by his hands on your spine, rough and worn against your skin where the hospital gown split.

The pendulum swung against your skull, and your gut roiled with nausea. Your eyes wandered to the wrists that had been bandaged, the red tide seeping into the white. Something beside you beeped to the swing of the pendulum, but broke its rhythm suddenly. Your heart leapt to your throat.

“Shhh,” Arthur said, thumb making little circles over your spine. “We’re gonna get you home, love.”

The red tide began to seep into the corners of your vision as images hurtled towards you in the wide, never-ending ocean. The bullets strewn across your end table, each etched with a name that would haunt your dreams as those before them had. The porcelain of a bathtub, as pallid as the boy’s face who’d taken shrapnel to his chest not twenty feet before your eyes. The heat of the blood-water, like the heat of the fire that had devoured the Garrison the night your innocence had been lost.

“I don’t want to go back,” you pleaded with him, panicking as you found yourself attached to a thin, red tube.

Your fists pummeled his chest weakly and your knees kicked against his leg, and your frail body writhed beneath his grasp, but despite his heart breaking, he did not release you. The burn of the chain he’d snapped from his neck reminded him of the rope that he’d tied years ago, and he could feel a chasm opening beneath his boots as his legs had kicked from under him like yours did now.

And as you finally began to settle, wracked by soft sobs, he cupped your cheek in his bloodied hand, and he looked into the same eyes that had saved him, as he repeated your own words back to you, the words that still echoed in his mind whenever he thought of pulling the trigger on the trouble in his head or tying another noose,

“People like us don’t get to decide when we’re done.”

God damn him, damn his selfish soul for the look in those eyes that had once been so strong, for the way your jaw trembled against his hand. His lip curled, quivering, another tear streaking across his face as he tried desperately to keep the last, frayed threads of his sanity from snapping. Tried to hold himself together so that he could save you.

Because as much as it broke his heart to see you like this, and as much as he cursed his brother but mostly himself for dragging you into this life, he could not lose you.

“You hear me?” Arthur’s voice rose as his fingers dug into your jaw, his gentleness overcome by desperation as the noose tightened round his neck. The hinges of the bed creaked as the wooden stool had, and you watched as his face flushed red. He was going to break.

You shimmied forward, wading through the red tide, finding the water to be shallow here as you crawled onto his lap and buried your face in the crook of his neck. Hugging him so tight that you kept the shattered pieces of him together. That you snapped the rope on his noose and he gasped for air against the lavender and blood of your scalp.

“I hear you,” you murmured into the warmth of his neck, and when you shut your eyes, you stood ashore from the red tide. The sweat and tears against his flesh still smelled of the sea, and though these waters thrashed, they ran clear. And you knew that your angel would guide you through them.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Text

Obsidian | Preface | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: You remember everything. The first time you radiated at garnet, feeling the power of the jewel rushing through you. Remember the energy pulsing at your command. And you certainly remember the face of the man who ruined your life. Then there’s Min Yoongi, the Chaotic who is the key to your revenge.

☾ Word Count: 1,020

☾ Genre: Urban fantasy, criminal/syndicate, strangers to lovers, angst, eventual smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Graphic depiction of death and body dismemberment, a lot of blood, Yoongi is brutally wounded/gutted, near-death experience, traumatic loss of parents, mention of suicide (not actual, but metaphorical), this is pretty blood and gory but not gratuitous? Death of a koi fish rip Agust the I.

☾ Published: April 22, 2023

☾ A/N: Don’t ask me to explain myself. I have no idea what I’m doing and my Aries moon is in full control of me and working me like a robot. This is a series or something I don’t know. I have no plans and no thoughts, just brain rot. Inspired by Jade City by Fonda Lee, the movie Colombiana, the movie Scarface and by my fuck it we ball attitude about writing what I want when I think of it. Also please note that the order of first and last names will be done in Western fashion in this, as this story does not exist anywhere real-world-adjacent and thus, will be first name > last name.❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Yoongi remembers the day he died. It was self-inflicted, a kind of suicide.

It goes like this.

Red stains on the tile, red stains on the carpet. His mother’s face, but not quite right. Missing the left side of her head, weeping crimson. Abstract. No jewels in sight, not even the throbbing onyx she constantly wears - constantly wore - her last line of defense. Her empty neck is more horrifying than the gaping wound in her head. It feels like Yoongi is seeing her naked.

Faintly, he hears voices. He’s too distracted, too caught up in the tang of blood as he steps over his unjeweled mother into the kitchen. High-pitched ringing in his ears, a violent headache.

Here is where the art is. Scarlet walls, a modern rendition of death. Upturned furniture, splintered. Bodies with faces he doesn’t know. Bodies with faces he does. Suri’s empty eyes stare up at the ceiling. Her garnet earrings are gone, ears ripped and bloody. Taken against her will and fast.

At the center of it all is his father, head missing.

No that’s not right. His head is a few feet over and staring blankly at the ceiling. Lights out, no one home. Yoongi doesn’t look at his father’s head- can’t or won’t, it doesn’t make a difference. Yoongi’s eyes go to his father's hands, looking for the jewels, expecting to see obsidian and onyx. There are no rings there, and the little sockets drilled into his father’s knuckles by Dr. Lowery are empty. Scarred-pink and lonely.

Yoongi never hears the man behind him. Doesn’t see it coming until he’s slammed from behind, a wall of radiant energy knocking him forward into his father. Yoongi screams - can’t help it. He rears back, pushing off of his father, but his hands slip and he’s shoving against a neck with no head. Sliding against the red-wet tile.

His stomach roils but there’s little time to think as he rolls to the slide, blood-slick and terrified. Yoongi is a little bit dazed as he blinks up at a familiar face leaning over him. He’s so shocked to see Yujun Kim leaning over him that at first, he doesn’t feel the knife carving out his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Yujun says.

Yoongi thinks Yujun means about his parents, maybe. But then white hot pain blooms in his stomach and Yoongi screams, looking down to see the knife pulling down, opening him up. He screams and screams, but doesn’t hear what Yujun says as he pulls the onyx rings from Yoongi’s fingers and earrings from Yoongi’s ears. Yujun does this gently, as though he’s afraid to hurt Yoongi while his stomach is butterflied.

Nothing has hurt like this. Yoongi remembers when he was hit by a motorcar last year and shattered his shoulder, but it is nothing to the all-consuming pain of being cut open. Gutted like the fish that his father likes to eat on the weekends. Torn like his mother ripping open letters from her old school friends.

Yoongi thinks he cries out for his mom. At least he forms the words, tries to beg for her help. His dad is too dead to yell at him for being a mommy’s boy, so Yoongi screams for her. Wants her to wake up and crawl over to him and hold him together.

He’s just a child, after all. And he’s afraid of dying.

Unfortunately, Yoongi doesn’t die.

He doesn’t remember Yujun leaving him there, bleeding out and toeing the veil, ready to join his parents on the other side. Yoongi thinks he sees them, thinks he hears them calling to him. But there’s a stronger call, a vibration that pulls at him. That begins to itch. A frequency he can’t let go of.

Yoongi feels it more than he sees it and he starts slipping across the floor to where a single ring has rolled under the fridge. Yujun wouldn’t have noticed - couldn’t have noticed. Yujun radiates at onyx, never obsidian.

But now the obsidian calls to Yoongi and he slides toward it, hand pressed to his stomach, trying to keep his insides in. His hands are wet and sticky and he gags, feeling something slippery when he presses too hard on the wound.

The obsidian ring pulses, an invisible force under the fridge. Yoongi slides his hand under, gritting his teeth at the tight fit as he reach reach reaches. Just a little to the left. Almost. Almost. His fingers make contact with the ring and energy explodes through him.

A wave of high-frequency waves rushes through him. Yoongi lets out a guttural sound, somewhere between a yell and a gurgle as he lies on the floor, thinking it might be too late. But as the power surges through him, vibrating at a higher frequency than Yoongi has ever known, he realizes that he’s inherited this from his father. The ring and the power to radiate at both onyx and obsidian.

There on the kitchen floor, Yoongi radiates at obsidian for the first time. Feels his body stitch itself back together, itchy and hot and bothersome. When he’s done, he lays on the floor, sobbing up at the ceiling and trembling, adrenaline and radiate-sick.

Hours or minutes pass, he isn’t sure. But when Yoongi Min gets up and sees his home, painted with the blood of the people he loves, he decides to kill the kid that is Yoongi Min.

He leaves the soft boy who loves eating tangerines in the kitchen with Suri. Leaves behind the gentle plucking of the guitar strings late at night when the wind is not yet Autumn. Forgets about the way he loves to feed the koi in the backyard with his mother.

Yoongi Min is too soft to do what this boy, alone and bloodied needs to do. He knows that. His mother always calls - called - him her gentle boy, her dumpling. Her little sly cat of a son.

So Yoongi dies. And Agust emerges from the house, carrying only the name of his favorite fish that floats belly up in the koi pond, water still green with poison.

Series Playlist | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter | Tag Lists

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic #suga smut #suga fanfic #suga bts #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi angst #minors dni #minors do not interact #mafia yoongi

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ozarkthedog · 1 year

Text

summary: after a meal, lee fucks you in the back of the pickup truck.

warnings: lee x reader. smut. quick and dirty, literally. there’s dried blood everywhere.

word count: 897

author’s note: no one asked for this and neither did i but alas, here it is.

♁ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁

Still high from a fresh kill and with bellies full, you playfully wrestle with Lee in the back of the blue stolen pickup truck. He does his best to go easy on you even though you’re giving him your all. You tug his dusky pink hair. Wrap your hands around his throat still caked in dried blood and toss as much of your weight into the man but all he does is laugh.

Lee knows if he uses his full strength, especially since his muscles are still pounding with adrenaline, he could do something he’d regret.

His large hands easily pull your body into his lap as the dwindling summer heat settles for the night. Your heart still pounds loudly in your chest from the rush of watching Lee kill for you. It’d been a week since you both had eaten and the lonely drifter you drove past that afternoon made for an easy meal.

Your lips slid over his with ease as the fresh coppery tang of the kill seeps into your senses. You grind your core onto his dirty jeans eliciting a groan deep in his chest.

His hands encompass the sides of your face, pressing himself deeper into the kiss as you rub your soaked core along the growing length hidden in his jeans. “Fuck-” Lee hisses when you make whimper from the blissful pleasure.

Harsh fingers dig into your jaw bones halting your frantic movements as Lee holds your face an inch from his own. “Whatcha gettin’ up to? Huh?” He purrs while thrusting his solid length against your swollen panty covered clit.

You gasp from the shocking sensation. “Noth- nothing, Lee. I swear.” You grasp his shoulders, riding out the pleasure as he chuckles.

In a flash, he’s tipped you over into all fours. A rough yet tender hand presses your head down and then smacks your ass. “Stay just like this.” He commands with a grunt.

He flips your dress and almost tears your panties in two as he drags them down your thighs. A zipper sounds and then the blunt head of him is smacking against your swollen, shiny petals.

Lee plants one foot beside your body and grasps your hips ensuring he’s got the leverage he needs before canting his hips and plowing forward with a devastating thrust.

Air punches from your lungs and you scratch the rough floor of the truck. The sheet of wood Lee laid on the floor of the flatbed scraps your knees as he shoves your body forward with every powerful drive.

The hands locked around your hips tug you back after each thrust, forcing you to take every inch of his dripping length.

With teeth bared, Lee grunts loudly into the twilight sky.

“This what you needed? Huh?” He grunts, tipping his head to look down at you. All you can do is moan in reply, but he wants more.

He bends his body over yours and sheathes even more of his cock into your searing core. Lee presses a hand to the side of your head forcing you into the truck's bed. A pained mewl tumbles from your lips but your cunt drools.

“Answer me.” His nails cruelly press into your scalp as he withdraws his cock leaving only the fat tip caught on the slippery slice of your cunt.

Your cunt quivers around nothing and it makes the exquisite pain that much worse.

“Yes!” You scream as tears fall freely onto the rough flooring below. “Yes! Just need you. Only you.”

Lee preens. “That’s my girl.” His hips snap and he buries his cock into your dripping folds. He grinds his hips into the cushion of your ass as you shudder beneath him. He weaves a hand around your front and nestles his fingers at the crux of your core. He taps your slippery clit playfully, humming to himself as you desperately beg for him to move but he stays still, cock lodged wickedly against your cervix.

“You look good like this.” He confesses with a grin and slowly circles your tiny bud. “On all fours. Covered in blood.” Your cunt convulses around him as his fingers gather speed. “Takin’ my cock like you were meant for it.”

Just as you were on the precipice of an earth shattering orgasm, he smacks your clit with harsh swats. You scream out into the night and scramble to shake him off but he holds you down. “Come on, just a little more. You can do it.” Lee grunts before withdrawing his cock and spitting lewdly onto your sopping heat only to shove his length all the way back in.

Your spine bows like an arrow ready to be shot as he saws his cock into you with a maddening pace. He sheathes his length deeply with every thrust forcing your core to flutter and spasm around him. Something heavy tugs at your lower belly and your jaw drops open from the onslaught of bliss as he chases his own end.

Lee’s hips stutter as you come around his cock with a shriek. Your velvet walls milk his cock and his fingers dig into your svelte hips as a ragged grunt tumbles from his throat.

He collapses next to you with a sigh while you catch your breath and snuggle into his side. Fingers and hearts intertwine as crickets chirp into the summer night.

#bones and all #lee x reader #lee x you #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you

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noisymutantherelol · 15 days

Text

Kanji's Masterpost

Welcome to my blog! you are free to ask anything as you can interact with your favorite charaters from these fandoms,more fandoms are to be added and pls read this Masterpost before requesting,

I am now Making a Ninjago X LMK Fanfic with my Oc's and @cupc4keu's OC

'do you Remamber when it was just Megapolis City,when the other realms where just story's,well That all changed the day the Merged Happend,there was no name for it back then it was all chaos the hero's arrived.....The Monkie Gang,They did all they could to stop it but it was to great...the realms where Merged making our world bigger,more confusing then it was before, our hero's lost.my family lost,and I lost my beloved.....but I can't lose hope I refused to'

"Viper c"Mon Lets goooo" Sora yelled

FANDOMS

MLP

Fright Krewe

Lego monkie kid

Ninjago + Dragons rising

ROTTMNT

The Bad Batch

My Hero Academia

Avatar the last Airbender

Hazbin hotel

Helluva boss DC

YES AND NO'S

Yes

X reader (any gender or charaters

Headcanons

One-shots

Drables

Free therapy

SFW

Theories

more to be added.....

No's

Yandere

Smut

More to be added...

MASTERLIST

CHARATER LIST

THE HELLAVERSE

Charlie

Vaggie

Alastor

NIffty

Sir Pentious

Husk

Lucifer

Adam

Lute

Sera

Emily

Vox

Velvette

Blitz

MIllie & MoxIe

Lonna

Stolas

Octavia

Ozzie

Fizzaroil

Bee & Vortex

Verasika

THE LEGO CORNER

Mei

Sun Wukong

Macaque

Sandy

PIgsy (platonic only for pig man)

Tang

Nezha

Syntax

Peng

Yellowtusk

Azure

Redson

Chang'e

Lloyd

Arin

Sora

Nya

Wyldfire

Cole

Geo

Zane

Kai

Rontu

Egalt

Jay

THE ANIME CORNER

Toph

Sokka

Katara

Aang

Zuko

Azula

Ty lee

Suki

Deku

Bakugo

Todoroki

Ochako

Tokoyami

Momo

Jirou

Mina

Denki

KIrishima

Shouji

Sero

Tsuyu

Shinsou

Aizawa

Present Mic

Hawks

Mirko

Midnight

THE BRONY CORNER Twilight

Rainbow Dash

Apple jack

Rarity

Fluttershy

Pinkiepie

Celastia

Luna

Cadance & Shining

Starlight Glimmer

Sunset Shimmer

Zecora

(I worked very hard on this so y'all can under stand my limits pls consider following)

#lego monkie kid #lmk mei #lmk mk #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel husk #vox hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #dcu #ninjago x reader #rottmnt #helluva #mha x reader #mha

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hwangsify · 2 years

Text

L.MH. — THESE ILLICIT PLEASURES.

pairing. lee minho x gn reader

genre. angst, fluff, exes to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden relationship au, idol au

warnings. food, mentions of blood and child abuse (non-graphic), alcohol

summary. after ghosting you for four years, your childhood best friend lee minho comes back into your life as a world renowned idol, awakening some buried feelings you've spent four years trying to push away.

length. oneshot

word count. 13.3k+

taglist. @starlostseungmin @ilynaevis @luvhyun3 @dnadoublefelixx @seung-scrittore @jungwonize

a/n. if you enjoyed this fic, please reblog it. i genuinely could not give two fucks about likes, if you actually liked this fic then just reblog— it's really not that hard !! also, a big thank you to @hh0320 for being the world's best beta-reader. i seriously could not have done it without you <3

i. the uncanny (en)counter.

After ghosting you for four years straight, Lee Minho comes back into your life like this.

Your mom texts you when college spring break comes around, insisting that you come back home to Gimpo for the duration of it. You text her back complaining that you’d rather not spend your vacation at home when there are so many better places to be. She texts you that she’ll cook samgyetang for you when you come and you give in, because her samgyetang is just that delectable.

So technically, all of this is kind of your mom’s fault.

You board a train to Gimpo a few days later. An old lady with an atrocious haircut keeps on prattling away next to you, going on and on about her grandchildren (who you could not give two fucks about) and how long it’s been since she’s last seen them, but you manage to tune her out. Eventually, she gets the message and shuts up, which you’re grateful for because it gives you a chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

You’ve gotten used to it, shutting people out when they get too close. You’ve learned to build walls, to hold yourself carefully. After all, you cannot afford to have what happened four years ago happen again.

When you finally arrive, you find that it’s not so bad after all. Your hometown has hardly changed, even after so long, and you can’t help the nostalgia that clogs up your throat as you walk through the streets.

Your mom greets you warmly when you knock on the door of her apartment. She hasn’t changed much, either, although there are a few more gray strands of hair in her bun and some new wrinkles around her eyes.

“By the way,” she says, after the two of you have finished dinner. “Mrs. Lee has been wanting to see you recently. You should go visit her.”

Your fingers tighten instinctively around your mug of tea. Looking up, you glare at her. “Minho’s mom?”

“Who else?’

Despite the bitter tang that fills your mouth at the very thought of Minho, you can’t help but love someone like his mom. You run a hand through your hair and sigh. “Today? I’m kind of tired.”

Your mom scowls at you and you give in before she bursts into complaints about how lazy you’ve been getting recently, quickly shrugging on a sweater and slipping on your shoes. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.”

The apartment is only a few floors down from your own— you suspect that the fact that you shared apartment complexes with Minho back when you were younger played an important role in securing your friendship. You reach the apartment in a matter of minutes, stopping by the doormat to knock hesitantly.

It’s been four years since you last stood by the doorway of this apartment. Just seeing it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, your mind fuzzing with memories you’d very much like to forget. You stand there for an awkward two minutes, waiting for the door to crack open, and just when you’re about to forget it and make your way back to your own apartment, the door opens.

Lee Minho stands in the doorway, clad in a pair of cat slippers.

You do the first sensible thing you can think of. You choke on air and burst into a coughing fit.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, lips parting in shock. You can’t help but return the sentiment, although you can’t nearly express it quite as well due to the fact that you’re doubled over, wheezing.

You’re still recovering from your paroxysm of coughing when Minho speaks up, voice achingly familiar in your ears.

“What are you doing here?”

You cough again and glare at him, eyes watering. “I should be asking you the same question.”

“I can’t even stay at my own mother’s apartment anymore?”

You frown, reluctant to admit that he’s actually got a point. “My mom told me that your mom wanted me to come visit.”

He lets out a barely audible sigh and stands back to fully open the door. “Well, come in, then.”

You step into the apartment and can barely keep from gasping because everything is just exactly how you remember it. There’s an embarrassing baby photo of Minho with tears streaming down his cheeks hanging by the living room couch that you used to tease him about all the time, and a cat litterbox sitting in the corner of the kitchen. The nostalgia hits you before you can choke it down, and you suddenly feel almost regretful.

Minho’s mom shuffles into the living room from the kitchen, an apron tied around her waist. Her eyes crinkle into a wide smile at the sight of you, stepping forward to take your hands in her own. “Y/N! I’m so glad to see you, it’s been so long.”

Minho is silent from next to you, watching your exchange quietly. You tip your head forwards in greeting, squeezing her hands gently and attempting a smile, although it comes out more as a grimace. “It’s been a while.”

She laughs. Minho’s laugh has always paralleled her own, and your chest squeezes tightly at the sound. Her eyes light on Minho and she smiles at you again. “You must have been startled to see Minho here as well.”

“Ah..” you say, trailing off. ‘Startled’ isn’t even remotely close to the feeling in your chest right now. “I guess so.”

“It’s been a while. You and Minho must have a lot of things to catch up on,” she presses again, eyes flickering between you and Minho.

Fuck, you think. She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know that you and Minho haven’t talked in years, doesn’t know that you haven’t even bothered keeping in touch. When Minho had received that email from JYP Entertainment inviting him to join that survival show, you had begged him not to go.

What will I do, you had asked, without you?

Because, you see, you had loved Minho once, maybe a little more than you should have. And you had naively and stupidly believed that Minho loved you back.

Four years ago was back when you still believed in love, in making a wish before blowing out the candles and in the idea of soulmates. You and Minho had wholly and solely believed that the two of you were going to change the world back then— back when the two of you were young and stupid but also undeniably content with life and all it had to offer.

Minho shattered that contentedness the day he broke the news to you. You remember the heat of your tears as they brimmed and spilled over, the way Minho’s face crumpled in guilt.

But Minho had already made his decision the moment he set his eyes on the email. He left you anyway, despite your pleas. You were too angry to bother contacting him after that, and he was too stubborn to contact you.

And that was the end of that.

But Minho’s mom stares at you with such expectant eyes and you can’t bring yourself to break it to her. So instead, you smile and nod. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

Minho shifts uncomfortably from next to you and his mom quickly shuffles to the doorway to kick on her shoes, grinning at you with dancing eyes. “Well, I’ve got a few errands to run, so I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll be back in an hour.”

And then she’s gone, and it’s just you and Minho.

Minho clears his throat and comes to sit on an armchair next to you. In the awkward silence that follows, you finally manage to get a good look at him.

He’s still just as pretty as always, if not prettier. The same perfect nose, same high cheekbones. The same catlike eyes that you fell in love with so many years ago. There’s a tiredness that seems to have settled itself permanently into the pallor of his skin that wasn’t there before he left, though, and the baby fat has long since gone from his cheeks.

But despite it all, he is still your Minho. And you despise the fact that you cannot find it in yourself to push him away— now that he is in front of you like this, even after all these years spent telling yourself that you would never forgive Lee Minho for what he did.

The door cracks open and Soonie strolls in, tail held high as he makes his way leisurely to sit by the couch cushion next to you. He’s hardly changed as well, which you’re glad for. You’ve always liked Soonie, with his wide amber eyes and perpetually swaying tail. You hold out a hand for him to sniff, running your fingertips along his soft fur. Minho watches in silence, dark bangs falling over his eyes.

He’s dyed his hair black again, you notice. It suits him a little too much. The aching in your chest only intensifies when you set your eyes on him, so you look away after a bit. But Minho keeps his eyes on you, observing you quietly as you stroke Soonie in silence, unable to unstick the words at the back of your throat threatening to spill out.

You can already feel yourself building up your walls again, stacking them up high to obscurify yourself from Minho’s dark eyes.

But your walls are made of sand and Minho is the ocean in all of its angry glory. And your walls crumble apart as the tide rolls in, leaving you on the shore, shivering, stripped bare before Minho, like an offering. You know this, because you’ve seen it happen a thousand times before when you were younger. You could hide all you want, you know, but Minho has always seen right through you— like glass.

You look away from him before your eyes can betray you, before he can sense the wrath pooling deep within your gut or the longing oozing out of every pore within your body. Instead, you run your fingers through Soonie’s fur, who has settled into your lap and has been purring away like some kind of furry motor for the past 5 minutes.

“I didn’t know you dyed your hair black again.”

Minho blinks at you for a moment before nodding. “I dyed it a few months ago.”

“Ah,” you say, venom seeping into your words before you can stop it. “Sorry. It’s been hard to keep track of all your hair colors since you left. I mean, how long has it been? Four years? Without as much as a fucking text, too.”

Minho doesn’t even seem surprised at your anger, just tired. He sighs.

“I’ve been busy these past couple of years.”

“So busy that you couldn’t even spare enough time to send me one fucking message?” you sneer. “Save it. I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses.”

You find that you’re curling in on yourself reflexively, building your walls as high as they can go. But Minho looks at you with quiet eyes and you just know that he’s knocking down your walls faster than you can build them up. He can see right through you, see the hurt brimming within your chest, and you have never hated anyone like you have hated him for it.

“I’m not trying to excuse what I’ve done,” he says, almost gently. As if he were talking to a trapped animal. You’d rather he yell at you or something, anything but this. “I know it was wrong. But it’s true that I have been busy, especially these days.”

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed as you stare down into your lap. It’s hard to be mad at someone who speaks to you in such a way. For a long moment, the two of you sit there quietly, Soonie’s purring reverberating through the room.

“Why are you even here?” you say, finally.

“Our promotions recently just ended so I’m on break right now,” Minho says. “I’ll only be in Gimpo for the next week or so, though.”

You want to say something harsh, just to watch his face crumble in guilt, like the day he told you about the JYP email. But instead, what comes out is—

“Have you visited Gimpo before since you left?”

Minho shakes his head, although he doesn’t meet your eyes as he speaks. “I’ve been too busy.”

Which strikes you as odd because even idols do get breaks and vacations, enough time to at least visit their parents and have a homecooked meal for once. But you don’t mention it. Instead, you nod and thread your fingers through Soonie’s fur.

Minho clears his throat.

“Did you get into Seoul National University like you planned to?”

Your lips curl into a reluctant smile as you nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Except I hate my major, you want to say, because I chose computer science just for you. Because I thought we’d get into the university together. But you didn’t go, so now I’m stuck in the most prestigious university in Korea with a major I couldn’t give two fucks about.

“That’s good,” Minho says. “Seoul National University was always your dream college.”

You nod. And before yet another awkward silence can settle into the atmosphere, the door swings open and Minho’s mom steps in, carrying several grocery bags. She beams at the sight of the two of you sitting together. “Had fun catching up?”

Forcing a smile, you nod. She sets the grocery bags on the floor of the apartment and turns to grin at you. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I bought lots of pork today— I can make samgyeopsal for you and Minho.”

And despite the very appetizing idea of samgyeopsal, you think that you might just combust if you spend any more time in Minho’s presence, so you shake your head. “My mom will probably be expecting me back by now. I should probably go. I had a great time, though.”

“Oh,” she says, regretfully. “Well, come back anytime! I’m sure Minho has missed you a lot.”

Minho hisses softly through his teeth, glaring at his mom from his armchair. She promptly ignores him as she smiles at you cheerfully.

Slipping on your shoes, you nod and thank her, stepping out of the door before she can say anything else.

When you enter your mom’s apartment, the first thing you do is glare balefully at your mom, who’s nursing a cup of green tea and observing you closely from behind her wire-rimmed glasses.

“You knew Minho had come back!” you snap accusingly, tugging off your sweater to toss it haphazardly onto the living room couch.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” she demands. “It was the perfect opportunity for the two of you to finally make up.”

“Me and Minho are never making up,” you say, decisively. “I can’t forgive him for what he did.”

“Well, you should at least try,” she declares, firmly. “I set up reservations for a cat café. You and Minho should go together.”

You open your mouth to inform her that she’s probably gone insane because there’s no way you’ll ever go to a cat café with Lee Minho after everything that he’s done but she cuts you off, smiling. “I already texted Minho’s mom about it. She thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Minho’s never going to agree,” you protest, eyes narrowed. Her smile widens.

“Oh, but Minho did agree. He said that he wouldn’t mind,” she counters triumphantly. “So you really have no excuse.”

You suddenly regret ever boarding the train to Gimpo in the first place.

ii. the morning after.

When Minho arrives at your apartment at 9 am sharp, clad in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, you almost cancel on him altogether as the sudden weight of what you’re about to do hits you like a ton of bricks.

Here you are, standing in front of Lee Minho himself after all these years, preparing to go to some cat café with him just because your mom insisted.

It’s just a little insane.

You’re about to open your mouth to tell him that maybe going to this cat café might not be the best idea after all, but your mom pushes you out of the door before you can utter a word, pointedly ignoring the way you glower at her.

“Have fun at the café!” she grins. “Don’t come back home until dinner time!”

And then she slams the door and you find yourself, for the second time in two days, left alone with Lee Minho.

Sighing, you turn to face him.

“Let’s get this over with,” you say, with a touch of resent in your voice. “Hopefully we won’t ever have to see each other again after this.”

Minho says nothing, just tips his head towards you in silent assent, dark eyes meeting your own evenly.

iii. of cats and iced americanos.

The café proves to be not so bad after all.

Minho keeps a baseball cap slung low over his eyes as you step into the shop, careful to conceal his identity. You marvel at how easily he blends into the background like this, his face obscured almost entirely beneath his cap and face mask. The people barely spare him a glance as he brushes past them, not one of them suspecting that he could possibly be Lee Minho, world renowned idol whose recent album just topped Billboard.

A waitress escorts you into a secluded room, where the two of you come to sit down by a rounded table. The cats arrive shortly afterwards, slipping into the room with their swaying tails and feline eyes. Minho lights up at the sight of them, crouching down to run his fingers through their hair and scratch behind their ears.

You sip your iced americano in silence and watch as he softens, observing how easily he unravels as a striped tabby comes to brush itself against his legs, purring loudly. A Siamese cat situates itself in your lap, a warm weight against your legs, and you allow it to run its rough tongue along your bare forearm.

Eventually, when Minho has had enough of sitting on the floor, he comes to sit on the seat adjacent to your own. You observe him leisurely as he sweeps a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead, only for them to fall into his eyes yet again.

You could stare at Minho like this for forever, you think. Despite your anger, you could never get tired of studying his face. He’s always been exceptionally pretty, and he’s grown up well these past four years.

Maybe he’d be easier to hate if he didn’t look like some fucking god all the damn time, with his long eyelashes and finely-cut nose.

You clear your throat.

“How is it?”

He turns to glance at you, frowning. “How is what?”

“Being an idol. What’s it like?”

You can’t say that you aren’t curious. You’ve never felt compelled to become an idol, the entire idea being rather unappealing to you, but you can’t help but wonder how it must feel to have a hundred thousand doting fans scattered all across the globe, practically rabid with their adoration for you.

Minho tilts his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. A silence settles through the room as he contemplates your question.

“It’s fucked up and incredible all at once,” he says after a long moment. “It’s kind of hard to describe in words. But there are moments that I’d gladly relive a hundred times over, and there are moments that I’d do anything to forget.”

You run a finger through the condensation of your glass of iced americano, considering his answer.

“I like my members a lot, though,” he adds, almost as an afterthought. “I didn’t think I’d like them too much when I first met them, but they’ve grown on me.”

Something fills his eyes at the very mention of his members, a prominent sheen of fondness spilling into his irises, and you feel your stomach twist itself into knots. You know this gaze, have seen it a thousand times before, because Minho used to look at you the same way four years ago. You swallow down the bitter bile that rises up in your throat and turn to glance at him.

“Your members sound nice,” you say, although you don’t really mean it. You’ve seen them at least a hundred times by now on TV, and you cannot help the envy that fills your mouth every single time at the sight of them. You know it’s not their fault, but you can’t help but blame them for Minho’s leaving. A small, childish part of you desperately wants to believe this; that they took Minho away from you— just to have someone to blame.

Minho lets out a small laugh and your heart clenches like a fist within your ribcage.

God, you think, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard him laugh like this.

“They’re like family to me,” he says, eyes soft. And resentment seeps deep into your skin at the warmth that laces his voice.

You have seen enough. Physically unable to hold Minho’s gaze, you drop your eyes down to your lap. The Siamese cat left a few minutes ago; your legs feel chilly now that they are absent of the Siamese’s soft warmth.

“Did you miss Gimpo?” you ask, not meeting his eyes.

You both know that you don’t quite mean the question, not entirely. That there is another question laced beneath this one, one that you can’t quite bring yourself to ask.

Did you miss me?

Minho glances at you, although you’re still staring down at your lap. The heat of his gaze bores into you as he considers you, eyes heavy. Finally, after a long silence—

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ve missed Gimpo a lot. There hasn’t been a day where I haven’t thought of it.”

Minho’s voice is quiet as he speaks, barely audible despite the muted atmosphere of the room. He speaks casually, feigning indifference, dark bangs falling into his even darker eyes, iced americano lying abandoned in front of him.

And it is enough for you.

Something within you gives way, softens underneath Minho’s gaze. The realization comes to you easily, almost gently, as if you had known all along. The same realization that you’ve spent years in denial of, burying it deep underneath your anger and regret. But it resurfaces the moment Minho admits that he’s missed you, and refuses to be buried once more.

You’ve missed him, too.

Minho observes you quietly, watches as your resilience crumbles into sand.

He says nothing. The air smells of stale coffee grounds.

iv. the fall.

Minho texts you for the first time in four years the next day. You stare at your phone in a mixture of shock and disbelief, the screen unbearingly bright against your eyes.

[11:34 am] minho: do u want to come over? i’m making kimchi jjigae.

You’re not quite sure what warranted this invitation. But you don’t have anything else to do, and you’ve warmed up considerably to Minho these past few days. The idea isn’t as repulsive to you as it might have been two days ago.

Besides, you enjoy his company. More than you’d like to admit.

[11:36 am] i’ll be there in 5 mins

You arrive at his apartment shortly. Minho tips his head towards you in a silent greeting as you slip into the apartment, a plaid apron tied around his waist as he hovers over the stove. You come to stand next to him, peering over his shoulder.

“Didn’t know you could cook.”

Minho shrugs. “I only started a year ago or so. I got tired of ordering takeout all the time since my members can’t cook to save their lives.”

You glance around the kitchen. “Is your mom home?”

Minho shakes his head. “She said something about her crocheting class.”

You nod and lean back, perching on the kitchen countertop, observing Minho’s broad shoulders as he cooks. Minho turns to glance at you, eyes bright with amusement. “Is the fact that you accepted my invitation to come over a sign that you’ve finally forgiven me?”

Your lips tug up into a half smile.

“Absolutely not. You’re still the world’s biggest asshole for leaving me,” you say, watching silently as Minho puts the last finishing touches to the soup. He smiles and comes to stand directly in front of you, so close that you can see the faint scar next to his eyebrow. He used to complain about the scar all the time when he was younger, joking that it ruined his good looks. Four years later, you can hardly even see it at all— just a faint white line by his eyebrow.

Something shifts between the two of you, the atmosphere tensing and thickening until you can hardly even bring yourself to breathe.

“Is that so?” he asks, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins.

You tell your heart to stop flopping around inside your chest like a fish as he leans in closer and nod.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I’ll make it up to you.”

And then you’re kissing.

Kissing, and Minho is gripping your waist with a gentle hand, his nose brushing against your cheek. Your body responds to his touch faster than your brain does and you find yourself melting into him, pulling him closer and running a hand through his dark locks of hair.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you think. You shouldn’t be kissing Lee Minho, world renowned idol slash professional dancer slash ex best friend on his mom’s kitchen countertop. But it’s been so long since you’ve had him like this and you can’t resist it.

The anger within you ignites again the moment your lips meet, consuming you wholly in its blaze.

You want to devour him whole, to take and take and take until he has nothing left to give you. Minho hums against your lips and you are so greedy— all teeth and heated lips, demanding and begging him for more.

Everything that you have kept within your walls for the past four years spills out of you.

You want to have all of him, down to the faint scar that sits by his left eyebrow. You want him to run his fingers across the cracks of your misshapen heart, to take you in with all your bruises and flaws.

Look, Lee Minho, for this is how you break a heart. Look at the destruction you have left in your wake, the hairline fractures that run along the flesh of my heart. Look, for you shattered me into a million pieces the day you left, and it was I who pieced myself back together again.

Look, Lee Minho, for you left me in Gimpo as a mere shell of a being, a husk of flesh and bone, and I have molded myself back into the shape of a human once more.

You pull Minho closer into the kiss, lips slick with your own greed.

The soup starts smoking before you can bother doing anything else. The two of you practically jump apart, flushed and panting. Minho’s ears color red as he quickly turns away from you to tend to the stew, lifting it off the stove and placing the steaming pot on the countertop. Clearing his throat, he spares a quick glance your way. “The soup’s ready.”

You nod distractedly, hopping off the countertop to sit by the dining table. Minho slides a warm bowl of soup in front of you, face completely passive of any emotion as if the two of you weren’t making out a few minutes ago. You poke at the stew skeptically, doubtful of his cooking skills.

Minho catches the suspicion in your eyes and lets out a laugh. “Don’t worry. It’s edible.”

The stew proves to be more than just edible when you finally take a sip. Minho grins as you nod approvingly at the rich saltiness of the soup, almost smug. “Good?”

You nod. “Better than I expected from you, at least.”

Minho scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You always underestimated me. Even when we were younger.”

You widen your eyes in mock protest. “When did I ever? I always had the highest confidence in your abilities.”

“Right,” he grins. “Just like that time you predicted I’d get a 73 on my physics exam and I ended up getting a 97, right?”

Exhaling softly, you swallow hard. Even after four years, you still remember everything in perfect detail. After Minho left, you treated every memory you ever made with him with utmost care, placing them in glass jars and setting them high in the shelves of your heart, where forgetfulness would not be able to reach them. Now that he’s finally come home, it’s as if he took every jar and smashed it to pieces, releasing a torrent of memories in his wake.

Minho laughing on your seventh birthday, blue frosting smudged on the corners of his lips from the cheap grocery store cake your mother bought you. Minho kicking your leg from underneath the desk during chemistry class, lips quirking up in a grin when you turn to glare at him. Minho running a finger along the bruise decorating your cheek when you show up at his apartment, cheeks wet with tears after your father came back home drunk again.

You swallow again, as if you could choke down the memories if you tried hard enough, dissolving them in the acid of your stomach. Minho peers at you with worried eyes. “You okay?”

You are about to brush him off with a dismissive grin like you have an innumerable amount of times with others, before you remember that this is Minho. Minho, who has always been able to see right through you, who can read you at a glance, knocking down your walls with those dark eyes of his before you can put them back up again. Minho, who would never buy into your little white lies and halfhearted smiles.

So you tell him the truth.

“Just thinking about what we used to be,” you say.

Minho drops his gaze down to his lap in understanding and before you can stop yourself—

“Why did you do it?” you ask, voice coming out smaller than you intended it to be. “Why did you still leave, even after everything I said?”

You watch as Minho’s eyes darken at your question, lips curving downwards in a slight frown. You wait for his answer in silence, breath caught in your throat in anticipation, although you never know what to expect with someone like Minho.

“I had to get away from him,” he finally says, after a long pause.

“Who?”

“My dad. I had to get away from him.”

Oh.

Because you know of Minho’s dad and how he is, of the dementia pills that sit by his empty bedside and of the hardness that fills Minho’s eyes at the very mention of his father. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, because you have never felt so guilty in your entire life. Minho clenches and unclenches his hands into fists, knuckles painted white.

“I thought I could handle it, you know,” he says, without looking at you. “I thought I could handle his.. episodes. When I was younger, they weren’t too bad— just scary. He’d mistake me for one of his childhood friends or his younger brother and start acting all weird and my mom would help calm him down. But he kept on getting worse as I got older and the doctor didn’t know what else to prescribe him so they just told my mom and I to keep a close eye on him and— fuck, it’s still so hard to think about.”

He swallows hard.

“I came back home from dance practice one night and my dad was cutting up lettuce for dinner and he just started freaking out when I stepped into the house, yelling at me to get out— I think he thought I was his dad or something. And I didn’t know what to do because my mom had gone out and we had just ran out of his pills, and he kept on trying to stab me with the knife and— God, it was so fucking terrifying. He ended up nicking my wrist pretty badly— by the time my mom came back home there was blood splattered all over the kitchen floor, although everything ended up turning out okay. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, you know? Like, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that I was coexisting in the same home with someone who had just tried to kill me.”

You don’t know what to say as you stare at him, breathless. He shakes his head. “It got so bad that he had to get hospitalized, eventually. And even then, he kept on mistaking me for his father. Like, he’d be all hooked up on all these machines and IV drips and the moment I’d come in he’d just start screaming at me to get out until the nurses rushed in to tranquilize him. And I just remember standing by his bedside, watching as the nurses stuck a bunch of syringes into his wrists to pump at least 13 different sedatives into his system, wanting nothing more than for him to die.”

Minho lets out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his dark locks of hair. “I couldn’t handle it, afterwards. I felt so guilty all the fucking time for wanting my own fucking father to die and I couldn’t imagine what my mom would think if she ever found out and— I had to get away. So when JYP sent me that email, I jumped at the opportunity.”

You open your mouth to say something— anything, really, although you doubt it’ll be much of a consolation to Minho, but he glares at you before you can say a word.

“Don’t. You’ve never been good at comforting.”

So you don’t. Instead, you turn to stare at him, your mouth a hard line of resentment. “Why didn’t you at least tell me? All this time, I thought it was because you grew tired of me or something. You could have at least told me you left because of your dad.”

Minho sighs.

“I never thought you’d ever think of it that way,” he admits. “Besides, it was pathetic to tell you that I left just because of my sick dad.”

You smile ruefully, and think about your own dad, with his cracked beer bottles and bloodshot eyes. “You’re not the only one with an asshole for a dad, you know.”

“He wasn’t an asshole,” Minho says. “He was just sick. Very, very sick. He died a few months after I left. I couldn’t even bring myself to attend his fucking funeral, even though my mom begged like crazy.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, maybe things would have turned out differently if my dad wasn’t so messed up.”

You trace your finger along the rim of your bowl, lips curling into a smile. “Maybe you would have stayed here in Gimpo. With me.”

Minho looks up from his soup to gaze at you, dark eyes soft.

“I never wanted to leave you behind, you know. You were the world to me.”

It’s unlike Minho to be so straightforward about his fondness. You study him, taking him in critically. Everything about him is so achingly familiar and foreign at the same time that it hurts to look at him. “But you hated your dad enough to leave your world behind, huh?”

Minho leans forward, tipping his head towards your own. For a moment, the two of you consider each other, eyes heavy, breaths hitching in your throats.

“I said I’m sorry already,” Minho says, lips curled into a wry smile. “What more do you want from me?”

You tilt your head to the side, grinning. “I can think of a lot of things, actually.”

And then you find yourself kissing your ex best friend for the second time since this morning.

v. the deal.

Later, when you are sprawled out in a mess of tangled limbs across the couch, breathless and panting, lips swollen from your exertions, Minho turns to gaze at you. You meet his eyes sluggishly, half-asleep in his arms.

“What is it?”

Minho swallows, reaching up a hand to sweep back his bangs. “We can continue this, if you want.”

You frown. “Continue what?”

He gestures vaguely with his hands at your intertwined limbs. “Whatever this is. We can continue it, if you want to. It doesn’t have to be dating.”

You feel your eyebrows knitting together. You had thought all of this would be a one-time thing, that Minho would disappear without a trace after his week in Gimpo ended. Now fully awake, you turn to stare at him.

“You’re an idol,” you deadpan.

Minho lifts up a shoulder to rest more comfortably against the couch, arms tightening around your waist. “So?”

“Do you have any idea what would happen if we were found out?”

“Like I said, it doesn’t have to be dating.”

You laugh shortly, although you don’t find all of this funny at the slightest. “Do you think it would look like that to your fans?”

“We’ll be careful, then. No one has to know.”

You sit up, untangling his arms from your waist. Minho watches you with indolent eyes, hair splayed out in a halo against the couch cushion.

“One thing I don’t understand, though,” you say, frowning. “Why me?”

Because Minho could quite literally have anyone he wanted, with his good looks and fame. Because just a few days ago, he went trending all over Twitter over a fucking fancam. Because Lee Minho lives so vividly, is so vibrant and colorful in everything that he does, especially compared to your own monochrome palette. And a small part of you wonders what he could possibly see in someone as mundane as you.

He swallows, suddenly serious. “It’s so easy to be with you,” he says. “Maybe it’s just because we’ve known each other for such a long time, but it’s nice to spend time with you.”

He watches as you consider him, eyes narrowed.

“Think of it as stress relief,” he proposes, sensing your confusion. “That’s kind of how it feels. It’s hardly been three days, but this is the most relaxed I’ve been in a while.”

Rationally speaking, the entire deal is bullshit. You know that a proposal like this one could only end badly, and Minho is too smart to not know as well. But both of you have missed each other a little too much over the years, and rationality has been thrown out the window ever since Minho kissed you on the kitchen countertop.

So you wrap your arms around him and press your lips to his collarbone. Minho brushes his nose against the crown of your hair in a strangely affectionate gesture and you feel yourself shiver with delight, at the thrill of this entire affair.

“Okay,” you say. “Stress relief.”

vi. before the coffee gets cold.

Like this, the days pass in a blur. Everything happens a little too fast for your liking, and in the midst of Minho laughing because you accidentally tripped and fell on your ass in the middle of the ice skating rink and your mom ducking her head to hide a knowing a smile when you come home late after a long day at the amusement park with Minho, you faintly register that this is the happiest you’ve ever been in a very long time.

The four days Minho had left at Gimpo faded away as quickly as they’d come and soon enough, you found yourself sitting next to him by the dining table of your apartment, a mug of coffee clutched in your hands, a mere thirty minutes before Minho was to leave for the airport to return to Seoul.

Minho watches as you stir cream into your coffee, eyes trained down to the dull beige of your latte.

“I’ll come back again, you know,” he says, voice soft.

“You better,” you say, half jokingly, although your voice is devoid of any humor. “I’ll post your predebut pictures online if you don’t.”

You both know that it’s an empty threat, but Minho feigns annoyance anyway. “The ones you took back when I had a terrible case of acne?”

You feel your lips twist into a grin as Minho narrows his eyes menacingly. Before the two of you can launch into another one of your petty bickerings, you suddenly remember the gift you ordered off of Amazon a few days ago.

“Oh, right,” you say, reaching behind you to pull out a box. “I got this for you. As a farewell present.”

Minho lifts his eyebrows. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

You shrug and gesture for him to open it.

It’s a cat airpod case, the last one in stock. You had spent the better part of your shitty college wages to buy it, thinking it would be worth it just to see Minho’s face split into a grin at the sight of the airpod case. But now, as Minho cracks open the box to take the case into his hands, you all of a sudden regret ever buying the fucking present in the first place.

Because after all, this is Lee Minho. Who probably has a filthy rich net worth, judging from the Internet estimates, at least, and a million seller album despite the fact that it was only released a few weeks ago. Compared to him, your present seems trivial and insignificant.

Minho examines your gift closely, eyes scrutinizing. And just as you’re about to snatch the case out of his hands, telling him to forget it, that it was just a joke, anyway, Minho reaches into his pocket to pull out his Airpods, fitting them neatly into the case.

“I can finally stop worrying about losing my Airpods, now,” is all he says as he turns the case in his hands.

You feel your chest swell as he grins at you, your lips tugging into a smile to mirror his own. Leaning forward, you reach out to brush a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Maybe I can visit you sometime in Seoul. My university isn’t too far away from JYP.”

Minho nods, leaning into your touch. “I’d like that.”

And then you watch as he stands up to leave, watch as he brushes off his jeans and shoulders his backpack, tugging a suitcase along with him. Everything is a little too familiar, a little too similar to how he left four years ago. Minho turns back to you at the doorway and touches his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you.

“I think I developed abandonment issues because of you,” you say.

Minho laughs, a faraway sound in your ears.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’ll come back this time, promise.”

And then he’s gone.

When you walk back to the dining table, a hundred years older, you find that your coffee has already gone cold.

vii. after dark.

The next time you meet Lee Minho is in the privacy of his own apartment. Minho is the one who first proposes it, a few months after he leaves for Seoul. By then, your spring break had long since ended, and you are back to your usual grind at your university.

He texts you in the middle of organic biology class, your phone chiming embarrassingly loudly throughout the room. Your professor turns to glare at you over her half-moon glasses as the students collectively turn around from their desks to stare.

“You know my policy about phones in class,” your professor reprimands.

You mumble out an apology, cheeks red. The students slowly turn their attention back to the professor as she resumes explaining properties of lipids, and you seize the opportunity to quickly check the text.

[9:52 am] minho: u should come over to my apartment

It’s a little too in character for Minho to text you something like this with zero context at all, so you don’t question it. You’re about to ask him how the fuck you’re supposed to know where his apartment is in the first place when he sends you his address.

Holding your phone beneath your desk to keep it from your professor’s prying eyes, you carefully type out a message.

[9:54 am] i have class

Minho responds almost immediately.

[9:54 am] minho: come after class then. i can wait

So you do. You arrive at his apartment shortly after dark, when you should have been working on an overdue paper that you’ve been procrastinating on for a week by now. Minho’s eyes light up when he tugs open the door, lips tugging into a smile.

His hair is purple now. There are dark circles under his eyes, a gray weariness settled deep into his skin. Stepping forward, you wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his chest tremble and then deflate as he exhales, sinking into your touch.

“Sorry I took so long,” you say. Minho hums into your shoulder in a wordless acknowledgement of your apology, voice muffled. Detangling your intertwined arms, he takes a step back to study you. For a moment, the two of you drink each other in before Minho tugs you into the apartment.

The moment you step into the apartment, you let out an exhale of air you didn’t know you were holding. Everything about his place is so undeniably Minho that it aches to observe it all. The cat clock hanging by the living room couch, the familiar scent of coffee that hangs heavy in the air. Minho watches you carefully as you take it all in. “Do you like it?”

You avoid the question.

“I thought you lived in the dorms with the other members.”

“We moved out a few months ago,” Minho says. “JYP finally expanded our budget, and we thought it would be nice to have our own spaces. They still come over all the time though, or I go over to their places.”

You nod wordlessly. The cat airpod case you gifted him a few months back is lying by the coffee table. Grinning, you pick it up, running a thumb along its top ridge. “You still have this?”

Minho laughs. “Why? Do you want it back?”

You shake your head, smiling. Something about the fact that he kept the airpod case even after all this time is terribly endearing to you, although you’d never admit it out loud.

Minho shuffles into the kitchen, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily as he picks up a spatula. “Are you hungry? Should I cook something?”

You hesitate, frowning as you observe Minho’s evident exhaustion. “Maybe I should cook instead?”

Minho narrows his eyes skeptically.

“Can you even cook?”

You roll your eyes, stepping forward to yank the spatula out of Minho’s hands. “Of course I can cook.”

(Which is a lie.)

Yanking open his refrigerator, you take out a carton of eggs and a jar of kimchi. Minho hovers over your shoulder, hot breath ghosting over your neck as he speaks. “What are you making?”

Brandishing a knife you just pulled out from his knife block, you flip open the carton of eggs to pull out a few. “Kimchi fried rice.”

Minho lets out a derisive snort from behind you, evidently doubtful of your cuisine skills, causing you to turn around and glare at him.

“Can you at least be more supportive? I’m trying to do you a favor here.”

Minho nudges the bowl of eggs you just finished cracking, their yellow yolks jiggling as he pokes at it. “You got bits of shell stuck in the egg whites.”

Hissing through your teeth, you pull out a pair of chopsticks to fish out the pieces of egg shell. Minho sighs.

“It wouldn’t hurt to let me cook, you know. We both know I’m the superior chef between the two of us.”

Snapping at him to shut up, you pull out a frying pan and proceed to make the worst dish of kimchi fried rice ever made in Korea. In the middle of preparing the kimchi, the eggs start to smoke. Minho yells at you over the din of the smoke alarm to turn off the fire as you dart around the kitchen, attempting to salvage the damage. Eventually, after about thirty minutes of chaos, you finally manage to quiet things down again and you and Minho sit down to a very poorly cooked dinner.

Minho pokes at the rice tentatively with his chopsticks. The eggs are burnt to crisp and the rice is scorched black. In an attempt to make the dish a little more appetizing, you dumped chili paste all over the kimchi, overly-seasoning the rice in the process.

Bracing yourself, you take a bite of the rice. It tastes exactly how it looks, burnt and blackened. Minho watches you as you chew. “Does it taste okay?”

You resist the urge to throw up your mouthful of rice all over the dining table. Swallowing with some difficulty, you manage a pained grin. “It tastes great.”

Minho tries a mouthful of rice and promptly gags the moment it hits his tongue. Staggering to the kitchen, he retches straight into the trashcan, eyes watering. You glare at him as he makes his way back to the table.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Minho shakes his head. “I should sue you for food poisoning. Even Changbin isn’t this bad at cooking.”

For a brief moment, the two of you sit in defeated silence, mourning the waste of perfectly good rice and kimchi. You’d argue more with him in defense of your cooking skills, but even you can’t bring yourself to stomach another mouthful of rice, which is saying something. Finally, Minho speaks up.

“Do you want to just get Chinese takeout instead?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Let’s do that.”

The takeout arrives half an hour later, a banquet of Peking duck and Mapo tofu. The two of you dig in enthusiastically, having eaten nothing but burnt fried rice since this evening.

By the time you have eaten yourselves sick, your stomachs full and sated, the moon hangs high in the sky. Minho rests with his head on your shoulder, half asleep as the two of you watch some Netflix show that neither of you could give two fucks about.

Minho’s eyes are half-shut when you glance down at him from the TV screen, eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. You touch a finger to the ridge of his cheekbone, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. You run your finger along a scar against his temple, barely visible in the dimly lit room. Minho’s eyebrows knit together as you barely graze the scar with your fingertips, but he leans ever so slightly into your touch anyway.

“What’s this from?” you ask.

Minho’s eyes flutter open, his hand coming up to touch the scar. “Oh, this?”

Something in his voice. Fractured glass, crumbling sandcastles.

You glance at him, perplexed, and Minho breaks your gaze, glancing down until all you can see is his long eyelashes.

“My dad,” he says as an explanation, voice impossibly small. “I visited at the hospital a few days before I left and he went completely berserk, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, yelling all this shit. He slammed my head into the cardiac monitor before the nurses could sedate him.”

There is nothing left to say. Pressing his lips into a tight line, he goes silent. You gaze down at the boy pressed to your side, observing the weariness in the pallor of his skin and the slight downturn of his lips, and know that if you could, you would gladly give the world to see him happy.

You run your finger along the scar once more. And maybe if you were dating instead of just messing around, you’d lean down and press your lips to his temple, right where his scar was. You’d take the pain in Minho’s eyes and cradle it gently to your chest, hold him as he trembled and tensed beneath your touch. But you aren’t dating, and there are walls of sand standing between the two of you. And you know that you can only stand within a certain proximity of Minho before things become dangerous, lines blurring and softening. So you drop your hand from his temple to place it in your lap and glance back to the drama.

Next to you, Minho lets out a barely audible sigh. You are both tired of this, although you cannot bear to say it out loud.

viii. as the lines blur.

Minho proves to be remarkably adept at making up excuses to come and see you.

He texts you the next day as you’re making your way back home that you left your hoodie at his place, before texting you some Korean BBQ restaurant to meet up at just so he can “return your hoodie.” You don’t bother telling him that you didn’t even bother wearing a hoodie yesterday in the first place, just because you want to see him just as badly.

“Where’s my hoodie?” you ask as you seat yourself next to Minho, lips curled into a wry smile. Minho grins at you from behind his mask, eyes crinkling.

“I guess I forgot to bring it.”

A few weeks later, Minho calls you to say that he made too much jjajangmyeon and needs someone to help him finish it.

“I’m sure your members would be more than happy to help you eat it,” you say through the phone, grinning.

He laughs. “Most of them don’t like jjajangmyeon.”

You know that this is a dangerous game the two of you play, this loving in the dark. You’ve long stopped believing in happy endings, not after everything you’ve seen. But you have already lost Minho once, and you cannot bear to lose him again.

This is the happiest you’ve been in forever, and despite the barriers between the two of you, it is enough to pretend that everything is as real as it seems.

You see it in his eyes too, when he finally takes off his cap as he steps into the apartment, hair messy. When he adjusts his mask over his nose as the two of you pass by a group of girls, ducking his head down to cover his features. There is a weariness in his eyes that filters through him no matter how many times he covers it with a grin, a sort of simmering anger burning behind the dark depths of his pupils.

You would show Minho to the world if you could, whispering to them to look. The way his laughter is jagged at the edges when he is the happiest, though it is never like this on camera, where his laugh is always pretty and clipped. The dark circles beneath his eyes, although they have never seen him so before, for they are always covered in layers of makeup.

For this is what it means to love someone: to take in all their flaws and blemishes and hold them closer for it all.

ix. crumbling sandcastles.

This is how it all ends.

You walk back home from college one day, arguing with Minho via text about the legitimacy of mint chocolate ice cream. You’ve been seeing each other more often recently, coming up with random alibis to meet up. You can’t say that you regret it.

Just as you’re about to enter your apartment complex, you hear your name. Turning around slowly, you find yourself staring directly at Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids. After Minho’s insistence, you learned the names of his other members and even watched a few of their music videos, and you find that you are able to recognize Chan in an instant.

You jump back, startled, before hastily dipping your head forward in a bow. Chan mirrors you, bowing politely, before flashing you a tight smile.

“I’m sorry. You’re Y/N, right?” he says. “Do you have a minute? Maybe we can stop by a café or..”

“You’re Bang Chan of Stray Kids,” you say, incredulous.

Chan nods sheepishly, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah. I am.”

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you have schedules or something?”

You know you don’t sound exactly friendly, but really, you’re in such a state of shock that you physically seem unable to remember your manners. Chan lets out a short laugh. “I was hoping to meet you sometime. Minho’s told me a lot about you.”

You flush at this, wondering what it exactly was that Minho said about you, and nod. “Sure. I have a minute.”

So Chan takes you to a local park that he seems to be fond of, sitting adjacent to you on a rusty picnic table. You sit straight, staring at him expectantly. “So. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Chan presses his lips into a firm line and sloshes the coffee in his paper cup. Finally, after a long moment, he looks up. There is no longer any trace of faux chivalry in his expression, only a firm resoluteness and beneath that, a dark worry. “I came to ask you if dating Minho is really a good idea,” he says, quietly.

“We aren’t dating,” you say automatically, because this is what you have drilled into your head countless times these past few months. You had thought that if you kept your distance from Minho, refraining from dating, it would be easier to bear if he ever had to leave again.

Chan raises his eyebrows. “Really? That’s not how Minho made it seem.”

“I know it sounds like we are,” you say quickly. “But we reached a mutual agreement that we’d just mess around. You know, nothing official.”

Chan nods slowly, although he still looks just as confused. “But I mean, if your relationship ever gets leaked, no one will ever see you two that way.”

“I know,” you say. “We’ve been careful.”

“Careful,” Chan echoes, and lets out a harsh laugh. You jump at the sound, cringing at the way it grates against your ears. He gives a dismissive shake of his head, smiling, although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“That’s what they all say,” he says. “But they all got found out in the end, anyway.”

“Minho and I aren’t like that,” you protest, although your argument sounds weak and distant in your ears. “Our relationship is more… detached.”

This is a lie so blatant that you resist the urge to wince.

Chan grimaces, taking a sip of his coffee. “I know I can’t do anything to stop the two of you, and if you two decide to continue whatever you have going on, it’s your choice. But I just wanted to say this.”

You inhale, preparing to put your walls up already. Chan’s eyes are as dark as ink as he gazes at you, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“My members have come a long way to get to where we are today. I can’t risk having a single member ruin this all for us. To have a dating scandal right at the peak of our careers as of right now— it’ll ruin us.”

There is a sense of finality in his words as he speaks. You meet his gaze quietly, unflinchingly, because that’s what you’ve always done— looked pain in the face and pretended that you were unafraid, even if you were barely holding together at the seams.

“If the two of you ever get found out,” Chan says lowly. “I won’t hesitate to cut Minho off from the group. If it comes between saving the entire group or just one member, I will always choose my members.”

He turns to go, standing up to brush off his jeans. He meets your eyes one last time as he reaches out to grab his half-empty coffee cup. “I hope you remember this when your names are all over Dispatch.”

You lean back, feigning nonchalance although your hands are shaking so badly you can barely hold yourself up. “A bit selfish, don’t you think? Allowing one member to take the brunt of the fall just to save your reputation?”

Chan’s eyes harden.

“I think I deserve to be a little selfish,” he snaps. “I’ve spent the past twelve years worrying after others, fulfilling their every request.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, his chest deflates in a sigh. “I’m fucking tired.”

And if you were braver, maybe you would grab his wrist before he turned to go to argue some more. But staring at this man, with his dark eye bags and bleached locks of hair, a strong sense of pity fills the cavity of your chest.

He is tired of this too, maybe even more than you are.

So you let him go. And after he’s long since disappeared, you gather up your things and make your way to your apartment, head underwater.

x. how fairytales end.

You were four when your father came home drunk for the first time, nothing but slurred words and reeking breath. A shell of what he once was. Seven when your father slapped you across the face for the first time, just a flash of a calloused hand as it came down hard against your right cheek. Thirteen when he disappeared for good, leaving behind only the reek of beer and a collection of memories that you’d be more than happy to forget.

Happy endings cannot possibly exist in a world like your own.

This is what you tell yourself as you dial Minho’s phone number, what you drill into your head as the phone rings. You think about Minho with his dark eyes and jagged laugh, about how easily he elicits smiles out of you, about how he can read you at a glance.

You think about what it means to love someone.

Minho picks up on the third ring, his voice achingly familiar, even through the phone. “Hello?”

“Minho,” you whisper.

Minho picks up the note of fear in your voice before you can bury it under a facade of nonchalance.

“What’s wrong?” he demands. You can practically hear his frown. “Did something happen?”

You lean your head against the back of your couch, holding the phone so close to your cheek that it digs into your flesh. “Let’s end this.”

The laugh Minho lets out comes out all wrong, half-strangled with not a trace of humor. “End what?”

“You know what I mean. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

A long silence. You run a finger along the waterlines of your eyes to brush away any gathering tears, but find that your eyes are dry. Maybe you’ve been preparing for this moment all along, knowing that there would be an end to all this drunken euphoria eventually. When Minho finally speaks, there is a desperation laced in his voice, one that he hasn’t bothered to mask.

“Can I come over?”

You are silent, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Minho tries again.

“Please. Let me come over. Just once.”

“Okay,” you say. “Just once.”

xi. as the curtains draw.

Minho arrives at your apartment in record time, breathless. He reaches out to touch you when you open up the door, a hand coming up to brush against your cheek. You lean into his touch almost by instinct before jerking back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest when hurt flashes in Minho’s eyes.

“What happened?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Why would you want to end this, all of a sudden?”

You drop your eyes down— afraid that you will unravel the moment your eyes meet. “It’s too risky,” you say. “What we have going on. I can’t bear it anymore.”

You’ve put up your walls of sand again, building them so thick that even Minho is not able to break through. Or so you hope.

Minho’s dark eyes bore holes into your skin as he studies you for a moment, before giving a dismissive shake of his head. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit.”

You twist your mouth into a sneer. “What do you know? You’ve been gone for four years.”

He takes a step back, flinching as if you had physically slapped him across the face. You haven’t mentioned his departure in ages, and bringing it up again is like ripping open an old wound. You watch as Minho’s face hardens, body tense as he takes a step forward.

“You’re still a fucking coward, huh? Even after all this time.”

You open your mouth to tell him to stop talking, to shut the fuck up, because you cannot bear to see just how far he’s seen into you. After all this time, he still knocks down your walls as if they were made of glass.

You look up then, to study him. To take in this boy you have loved for fifteen years now, and to gather up the courage to push him away. “A coward?”

“I know you love me,” he says. “But you’re scared to say so because you’re too afraid that I’ll leave again.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before dissipating. You force a sneer, telling yourself that this is for the greater good.

“Is that what you thought all this time?” you ask. “That I loved you?”

Dig your nails deep into his flesh, break him open. Push him away before he can see right into you. Look away before you can catch the glimpse of hurt in his eyes, because you cannot afford to feel guilty.

“You ghosted me for four years,” you say. “And you still think that I love you? That I ever loved you?”

He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off.

“You were fun while it lasted. But you burnt out a long time ago,” you say. “And I should have ended all of this before it could have spiraled into this fucking trainwreck.”

You can’t seem to stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth, pushing on heedlessly, blinded with your own need to keep him away. “You’re like a cigarette. Addictive in the moment, useless the moment you burn out,” you hear yourself say, although your voice sounds as if it’s underwater. “And now you’re just a stub, something I should have stamped out a long time ago.”

It is then that you finally look up to meet his eyes one last time.

“So I’m just finishing off what I should have thrown out a long time ago,” you say. Minho is silent as he stares at you, unflinching as his dark eyes sift through you. You take a step back, clutching the knob of your door so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“Leave,” you say. “I don’t want to see you again.”

Minho leaves. Maybe a long time ago, you believed in fairytales, in happily ever after and driving off into the sunset.

But that was an eternity ago. And this is no fairytale.

You shuffle back into your apartment to make yourself coffee, hands shaking as you pour out the cream.

xii. through the screen.

You melt back into your life before he came back as a shadow. You can feel yourself going through the movements; buying groceries, finishing up homework assignments, attending lectures, but you’re barely there, a ghost mimicking the motions of life.

Minho goes viral a few weeks later over some fancam of him and Chou Tzuyu. Bitter bile rises up in your throat as you watch the two of them converse, heads tilted towards each other, lips curled into smiles.

You tell yourself that it’s only natural that he’s moved on, although this isn’t much of a consolation, either. Your friends invite you out to drinks one night, sensing your moodiness, and you cancel out on them at the last minute, telling them that you’ve got a stomachache. They either don’t care or can’t tell, because they don’t bother prying past your half-assed excuse.

Minho was the only one who had ever been able to see right through you, and now that he is gone, you are untouchable. And you would like to keep it that way.

He will be the first and last person to ever make it behind your walls.

Behind the screen, you watch as Minho continues to stitch his life back together, closing over the gaping wounds so seamlessly that it’s hard to believe the two of you ever loved each other in the first place. Pictures of Minho and Tzuyu surface all over Twitter, and you scroll through all of them endlessly, envy burning heavy at the back of your throat, a sour taste blossoming on your tongue as you bite back your pain.

Just when you feel that you are unable to stand this world anymore, that you cannot bear to live your life as a shadow for a minute longer, the car accident happens.

xii. as it all comes down.

It happens like this.

You receive a call from Minho’s mom, and your first instinct is to ignore it. Because you can’t bear to hear her voice, so similar to Minho’s, or to speak to her, acting as if you and Minho are still on good terms. But a small voice at the back of your mind nags at you to pick up the call, and so, against your better judgment, you do.

When you pick up, her voice is hoarse and raw with fear. “Y/N. I thought you’d want to hear this.”

Your heart dips as you clutch at your phone nervously.

“Mrs. Lee? What’s wrong?”

“There’s been a car accident in Itaewon. Minho’s been rendered unconscious.”

It is then that she breaks into sobs, and all you can register is the way your world shatters and crumbles into shards of glass at her words, the way her sobs come out all wrong through the phone, as if underwater.

For the first time in months, the fear within you makes you feel a little less like a ghost.

Minho is still unconscious by the time you arrive at the hospital. The Stray Kids members are crowded around his bed when you burst into the room, but they easily part the moment you approach the hospital bed.

Minho lies limp against the starched white linen of the hospital sheets, dark hair splayed out in a halo around his head. You can hardly make sense of it all, can hardly even register the absurdity of the entire situation.

But amidst the turmoil that surrounds you, there is one thing that remains clear. And that is this: you cannot bear to lose the pain in the ass that is Lee Minho again.

All your life, you have been afraid of being seen, afraid that they’d crack you open if they came too close. Fearing that they’d catch a glimpse of the monster inside if you let them in, the monster that you could only barely contain.

But it is only now that you realize that perhaps it is not the worst thing to be seen by Lee Minho. Because you know all too well how he has seen every corner of you, and how he has loved you all the same for it all.

You reach out a trembling hand to graze your thumb against the ridge of his cheekbone. He looks so peaceful like this, almost as if asleep.

“Lee Minho,” you whisper, your voice barely audible against the incessant humming of the hospital machines. “Please wake up.”

xiv. when you reach out with both hands.

Minho finally wakes up three days later.

You’re half-asleep by his hospital bed, cheek pressed against the sheets of his bed, hand intertwined with his own. His members left a few hours ago for practice, and the room is foreignly quiet without their soft murmurs or gentle peals of laughter. You’re just about to drift off completely to take the first nap you’ve taken in days when you hear your name.

You jerk awake, sitting up so fast that you accidentally slam your knee against the bedframe. When you glance up, Minho is looking at you with tired eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Minho,” you say. And then you don’t know what else to say, so you just take a moment to stare dumbly at him.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, voice rusty from disuse. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You notice that your fingers are still intertwined against the bed sheets, so you take a moment to yank your hand back, cheeks flushed. Standing up, you grab a cup of water that’s been sitting by his bedside and thrust it towards him. “Shut up and drink.”

Minho glances down at his hands, both of which are attached to IV drips. Mumbling a string of curses underneath your breath, you raise the cup to his lips, tipping it forward for him to drink. Your hands are shaking so badly that a bit of the water slops out, trickling down the collar of his hospital gown, but he doesn’t seem to mind it much.

When he finishes the cup, he turns back to you.

“I can’t believe you came,” he says, head tilted as he takes you in.

You flush again.

“Idiot,” you mumble. “Of course I came.”

Because you’d always come back to Minho, no matter how many times you ran away.

He grins, eyes crinkling fondly as you glare at him. For a moment, an awkward silence settles in before he clears his throat. “You look like shit.”

“You don’t look much better,” you shoot back. He’s not wrong though— you haven’t showered in three days and the meals you’ve had were few and far in between. You’d probably look a lot worse had it not been for Minho’s mom, who insisted on bringing you homecooked meals everyday and a fresh change of clothes.

You’re about to launch into a lecture about how you’d kill him if he ever gets into a car accident again and does he know how worried you’ve been these past few days and what was he even thinking, getting hurt like that without your permission? But instead, what comes out is—

“Are you and Tzuyu really dating?”

Minho lets out a choking sound, whipping his head up to stare at you. “Is that what you’ve been worried about this whole time?”

You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “Just answer the question.”

“We aren’t dating,” he laughs. “We’ve just been hanging out more, mostly for fanservice. She’s already dating someone else.”

You would like to say that relief didn’t course through your veins at this confession, that you didn’t let out a huge exhale of respite, but unfortunately, that would be a lie. Minho laughs again, eyes fond as he reaches out to brush his fingers against your wrist.

“Did we really look like we were dating this whole time?”

You glare at him. “That’s what everyone was saying at least. You could have at least texted me to clear things up.”

“If I recall correctly, wasn’t it you who told me that you never wanted to see me again?”

You have no refutation to this very reasonable point, so instead you opt to glare at him some more, cheeks coloring. Minho laughs again and reaches over to lace your fingers with his own, his skin warm and real against your fingers.

You stare down at your intertwined hands and wonder how something so small could feel so impossibly right. Minho’s voice is gentle in your ears.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I don’t think there’s any point in denying all of this anymore.”

Your eyes burn as you study your lap, cheeks flushed. When you finally speak, your voice is small and crumbling. “What are you going to do about it, then?”

“Date me for real this time,” he says. And there is no trace of hesitation in his voice, only a gentle firmness. “I won’t leave you behind again. Promise.”

You close your eyes and think about happy endings and what it means to love someone. And for the first time in an eternity, you break down your walls. And you let him in.

Looking up, you gaze at Minho, this boy who you have adored for a lifetime now, and you smile.

“Okay,” you say.

And then he brings you close to him and you let him, allow him to trace over your every flaw and scar and allow him to love you for it all anyway.

Maybe it’s true that you don’t believe in happy endings, that happily ever after could never exist in a world like your own.

But right now, in this moment, you desperately want to believe in a happily ever after with Minho.

xv. 10 years ago.

Once upon a time, there lived a girl in a castle located deep within the forest.

She was always alone, and always bored. So one day, she left the castle to find herself a friend to play with.

She offered them all sorts of amazing gifts, but they never accepted her. They pushed her away and left, leaving her sitting in the dust.

Later on, she found out why. A monster who carried with her the shadow of death. That’s what everyone called her.

She was angry at everyone. Bitter towards the world who she had accepted with open arms, the world that had pushed her away and left her in the shadows.

And even so, despite her anger, she one day rescued a boy from drowning. She dove deep within the murky waters and pulled the boy out of the river, dragging him onto the sandy shore of the river.

She took in the boy, who lay limp against the sand of the river bank, hair slick with river water. The boy opened his eyes and took in the girl, with her angry eyes and her bitter shadow.

And the moment the girl saw this boy, impossibly beautiful against the river bank, dark eyes tracing over her every feature, her bitter shadow disappeared. And from then on, the boy followed her around instead.

And for the first time, the girl was happy.

“That’s a terrible story,” you told 12-year old Minho when he recited this fairytale to you.

Minho’s eyes had widened in protest. This was back when dementia pills didn’t sit by his father’s bedside, back when everything was so perfect that it felt almost wrong.

“Why?” he had demanded, eyes narrowed. “I think it was a pretty good fairytale.”

You had shook your head dismissively. “It’s too perfect. No stories are that simple.”

Minho had smiled then, a smile that you were captivated by even at the young age of 12.

“But doesn’t it remind you of what it means to love someone?” he had asked, eyes a thousand years old as he gazed at you.

You cross your arms skeptically over your chest.

“To really see them for who they are and to follow them to the ends of the earth anyway,” Minho said slowly. “Maybe that’s what it means to love someone.”

You had laughed then, and Minho had echoed your laugh a few seconds later. You were both young then, and free of the burdens of life.

“Maybe,” you said. “Maybe.”

#ficscafe #kflixnet #straykidsland #also for the record the ending fairytale is from the kdrama it's okay to not be okay and is not my original work !!!#this took like 3 months to write i'm not even kidding #i went thru the BIGGEST writer's slump while writing this #the product of my blood sweat and tears fr #lee know au #lee know angst #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #stray kids au #stray kids angst #lee know fluff

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enihk-writes · 6 months

Text

[kiss, kiss, kiss, 단 하루도 빼먹지 말고]

based on lyrics from day 1 by red velvet

paring: various!hwasan men x gn!reader

(OR) various!hwasan men x preferred pairing free for all, ambiguous, can be them with anybody of your choice (i.e. tangchung / whiterust / cmxilso)

summary: short headcanons of where they like to kiss their beloveds

characters: geumjon (pbss) // geumhyeop (mhdd) // chung mun // tang bo // tang gunak // baek cheon // jin geumryong // lee songbaek // namgung dowi // jang ilso // chung jin

author's note: gagged when i typed the word beloved oh god when i say i get physically sick writing sappy romance i mean it yall my stomach is having issues rn....................... listening to rizzotto's sexyback cover on repeat and day 1 at the same time for maximum effect............ (looking like an insane homebody) also i feel like i should apologize to soso for this... yanno... just in case uhhhh what else???? AHHHHHHHHHH DEUKAE COMEBACK ON THE 22ND SO IM GOING MIA!!! I LOVE ROTBB BUT I LOVE MY GIRLS MORE!!!!!!! RAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHH I AM A FEMINIST FIRST!!!!!! AND A C0CK SUCKER 2ND!!!!!!

GEUMJON is still very immature at heart so, kisses from him are more innocent and well, somewhat child-like. he's not experienced with things like this so he mostly settles for impromptu cheek kisses whenever he's the one initiating. surprisingly conservative, won't go any further than innocuous touches unless the relationship is established to be romantic with the intention to marry. even then, out in public especially under broad daylight, he won't be the first to make a move even if he really, really wants to.

GEUMHYEOP is quieter, more grounded and direct. he doesn't like to waste time. if he has the urge to kiss his partner, he will. it doesn't matter where they are, he would cup their cheeks in his hands and give them a proper kiss on their lips... unless they are both in the middle of an important discussion or in a room with the others. he still has some basic manners and decency to not embarrass the other one. expanding on the way he goes about it — he likes to observe his partner's face, and remember their every detail because he recognises that memory is unreliable and hopes that doing this would burn their image in his mind for good. doesn't seek out for kisses often but doesn't push away his partner's advances. if he does seek them out, it's more likely because he's going through something at that moment and isn't in the mood to talk about it yet.

JANG ILSO is the complete opposite. no shame, no patience. they could be in the middle of a conversation with someone else or out and about in public under broad daylight. it's either he gets a kiss from his partner now or he will have them wait until he's back in the mood. doesn't really care if it pisses the other off... lowkey gets off on their anger. very tall guy so he likes to grab his partner's chin and tilt their head backwards so he can lean down and give a short peck, sometimes the kisses are more heated and lasts far longer — so they often end up in... situations... no matter where he is with his partner...

CHUNG MUN is the type of guy someone brings home to meet their parents. will not make a move, not even hand-holding until he gets explicit permission from his partner. date-to-marry type, and super conservative. even after having their first kiss, will not do that again unless it was during the wedding ceremony, wedding night and subsequent special occasions relating to his partner. prefers to convey his affections through interlocking fingers with his partner, and when they are alone, he'd bring them up to his lips and kiss their knuckles tenderly.

CHUNG JIN can often be found in between rows of bookshelves taking archives. that's also usually the place where he shares kisses with his partner. most times it's a quick peck on their eyelid as he walks past them, other times it's a brief nuzzle of the side of their head. ever so often, when he was staying late to transcribe the pages and pages of text, he'd take breaks by leaning on their shoulder, enjoying his moment of shut-eye. and it's during these times when he would turn his head and pepper kisses on the other's jaw. if he's feeling a little bold, he would block their faces from the window view with an open book — leaning in with apologies for his lack of attention these days as he pulls them in for a kiss.

TANG BO... is a wild card. if he's the initiator, he likes to be playful about it. always a tease, and thoroughly enjoying the reactions he pulls from his partner. if the roles flip and he finds himself on the receiving end, would be stunned into silence. all the other has to do is kiss him, not anything one-and-done — it has to be a proper and genuine kind of kiss on the bridge of his nose, more specifically the spot between his eyebrows. he tends to stay up late and it does create tension that results in headaches in that area because of that. so when he feels his partner's tender touch, this guy is putty. for all that cockiness, he is the easiest to come undone.

TANG GUNAK... an older man with experience for sure. he has children for fucks sake, let's be realistic here. doesn't matter how much brainpower his duties as the head takes up, he is very attentive to his partner's likes, dislikes, wants and needs. always acts according to the results of those observations. but in his downtime, when he is going to bed, he finds himself enjoying the embrace of his partner. resting his head on their chest, listening to their heartbeat because well, one might never know if they could have a heart attack soon or not. will always place a kiss on the other's chest, right over their heart just before he falls asleep.

NAMGUNG DOWI. a good guy. an earnest guy. really trying his best. he's not good at this romance thing... please be patient with him... if things so south, he tends to use his face card to have his partner forgive him. and they do, because he's insanely good at pulling the sad, kicked, wet puppy face. when that happens, he would happily kiss them over and over again on every corner of their face, or well, whatever parts he can reach. he did make them sit on his lap without any wiggle room.

LEE SONGBAEK prefers hugging more than kissing. partly because he's surrounded by kids so any grown-up action would have him be the brunt of their teasing for weeks. his partner is mostly understanding, maybe a little spiffed when it seems like they might kiss but a child waddles into their vicinity. he feels sorry for disappointing his partner, and often hugs the other from behind, muttering a string of apologies into their hair. eventually pecking the small bundle of nerves at the back of their ear, and the top of their jaw — his surefire way of leaving them a little hot and bothered.

JIN GEUMRYONG suffers from emotional constipation to an extent. so it goes without saying, his partner has to be blessed with communication skills that can honestly end all wars. he is strict, mostly stern, but he means well. and his partner has been by his side long enough to understand that. he feels sorry they've chosen to stay regardless. he isn't one to let lose until it's time to rest, so it's only in these times they get to see his unguarded sides. downturned eyes that look at his partner wistfully, he would hug them and rest his chin on the crown of their head. occasionally moves down to press his lips on that spot as one hand cradles his partner's neck, fingers playing with their strands of hair.

BAEK CHEON is undoubtedly a little pathetic. it's endearing, but it's still hard to watch sometimes. poor man still trips over his words and stumbles on his feet when he wants to ask his partner for a kiss. just one kiss please? god. it's hard to say no to a handsome face on the verge of tears... he's lucky they weren't a sadist. or well, trying not to be. it's so hard fighting those urges, that they ask him to reward their efforts. his pale face grows bright red, but he complies with his partner's request anyways. it's a timid kiss on their forehead that goes down the bridge of their nose, then the tip of it. he coyly kisses their cheeks, steering away from the other's lips so obviously that they lose patience and pull him in. he melts far too quickly into this, hands going all over his partner's body, tugging on their clothes. tsk, sly boy. so he had planned for this to happen, and like a fool they fell for his siren song.

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year

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"Please tell me I'm wrong." Pairing : Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : general angst ; nothing else really ; Word Count : 1.5k

It was only natural, right? Things become mundane, boring… What was once exciting and new becomes just as boring as going to work every day. There was nothing wrong exactly, it’s not like you didn’t love him, it’s just that every single day began to feel like a repeat of the day before.

The relationship was beginning to feel like Groundhog Day. You wake up in the morning, and there he was. A shared morning kiss before climbing out of bed and having breakfast together at the small breakfast nook in the kitchen. Then you’d both go to work, short texts asking about each other’s day were sent as you sat at your office desk and he practiced for the next concert or album he was about to put out. After work, you’d come home with carry out, the both of you too exhausted to have a home cooked meal and he’d look at you with love and adoration and you’d try your best to mirror the look.

Every day was the same, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat. The weekends weren’t much different, instead of going to work, you’d both spend the day inside watching movies or going about the chores that had been backed up from the busy work week. It was always the same thing, and while he was happy with the way things were, just waking up in the morning had you drained.

You tried your best to be happy, you tried your best to adapt to the constant repetitiveness of your days, but it wasn’t possible. You used to love the surprise dates he’d take you on, or the spur of the moment late night visits when he’d miss you so much and just wanted to spend the night.

The worst part was that you had always wanted a relationship like this, you had always dreamt of living together with the one person you loved the most. What you hadn’t expected was for that dream to be ruined by none other than yourself. You didn’t want this life, and sadly, living it was making you fall out of love with him.

“Hey..” Felix whispered out the greeting as he walked out of the bedroom. The sun shone high in the sky this morning, casting its rays through every leafless branch along the sidewalk and through windows. It was Saturday, one of the days that the two of you spent the most time with each other, one of the days that you looked forward to the least. You had to pretend that you were happy much longer, you had to keep up this facade that everything was alright when he was around you, and he managed to be around you the entire day.

You had slept on the couch the night before, hoping to avoid the redundancy of the morning ritual, and he had obviously taken notice of the lack of you being there by the way that he spoke. “Morning.” You responded as cheerfully as you could, but the only thing you heard behind you was a soft sigh before he appeared around the arm of the sofa, dropping down onto the loveseat that was across from you. “Did you sleep well last night?” It was better to make some sort of small talk instead of letting the awkward silence fill the space around you and him.

“No, I didn’t…” He responded, a tang of bitterness in his voice that was rare with him. “You never came to bed… It feels like you’re growing distant.” His hands were folded in his lap and his thumbs rolled over one another, something he only did when he was extremely nervous. Why wouldn’t he be though, he was under the assumption, or at least, you had tried to keep him under the assumption that everything was perfect because you didn’t want to hurt him, but he had figured it out anyway, he had caught on.

“Lixie…” You whispered out his name, your stomach twisting into knots as you thought about how he might feel. You might not love him the way you used to, but you still cared about him, and you never wanted to hurt him. You thought that you might have been able to break it to him softly, but he was already well aware it seemed of what was coming next. “I’m sorry… I-”

“Is it something I did?” He cut you off, his head whipping up but his hair curtained his eyes, casting a shadow along his features that made him look even sadder. “I’m… I’m starting to feel like… This might be the end of us… Please tell me I’m wrong.” The lump that had began to form in your throat only got thicker and thicker until you couldn’t swallow it down anymore, it cut off your airways, you couldn’t breathe, it felt like you were choking on the words that you wanted to say.

“You’re… You’re not wrong…” You said it quickly, breathlessly, sinking down into the couch as you felt his eyes burn into you. “I wish you were… But, this just isn’t for me. It’s not something you did though, I swear it’s not… You’ve been perfect, you’ve been amazing…” You tried to explain but his head only shook as you heard him sniffle quietly, his head hung low and his hair curtaining his face in an attempt to block out the tears that were falling.

“Don’t give me that… That It’s not you, it’s me bullshit… I had to have done something wrong.” The sound of him gulping thickly let you know that he was struggling with the same blocked up throat from trying to hold back his tears for so long, but it was all for nothing as you watched them drip from his chin and land against his gray sweatpants, the droplets creating perfectly darkened circles on the material. “Is it because I’m not here enough… Do I not love you enough? What is it? Please, tell me… I can do whatever it is that you ask me to do. I love you.”

It wasn’t fair that you had to do something like this to someone like him. He was a ray of sunshine, as bright and as heart warming as the sun that was shining bright in the sky this morning. You didn’t deserve him, you never did, and now to know that you were causing him this much pain, this much heartache, you knew that the hurt you felt was nowhere near close to what he was feeling right now. “You do… You do love me enough. You are here enough… You’re perfect in every single way… Too perfect for me. I just wasn’t ready for all of this, I thought that I was but I wasn’t. I was so scared to hurt you because you’ve been nothing but amazing to me… That’s why I didn’t tell you sooner… And that’s my fault.”

Every intake of breath was shaky for him, his entire body was shaking with sobs as he ran his hands through his hair. “So… you never… you never wanted to be with me?” He practically whimpered, his face bright red from crying. “All of this was… just all… pretend? You let things go on this long… and you didn’t even think how that would hurt me?”

Your bottom lip trembled as you tried to control your own crying, you felt like you didn’t deserve to cry, not in front of him. “It wasn’t all… I wasn’t pretending at first… I loved being with you… It just all became too much of the same… Everything was the same and… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry Lixie…”

He sniffled loudly, his head nodding slowly as he tried to take it all in, his hands slapping against his lap as he got up, standing still as stone in front of the chair. “I think I need to be alone right now… You don’t… You don’t have to leave the apartment… I’ll just… I’ll be in the room. I need to think.”

And what were you supposed to say? No? You weren’t going to tell him to stick around just so he could cry in front of you, and you were sure that the main reason he wanted to be alone was so that he could cry, so he could let it all out. You had delivered him the biggest blow, you had broken his heart, and why? Because you were bored. And you didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell him when you had first started feeling that way. You hadn’t given him the opportunity to even try to fix things. And maybe… Just maybe…

That was what had hurt him the most. Knowing that you didn’t give him a chance, that you had been feeling this way for so long, and instead of trying to fix things, you had just let them continue to fall apart until it came to this. He loved you so much, and he had come to the final realization that you just didn’t love him enough.

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star1117-archives · 2 years

Note

Yandere Yunho and the title is “Don’t Stop” 😳

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩

➵ Pairing : Yunho X Gn!Reader

➵ Genre : Yandere + Violent (mild)

➵ W.C : 457

➵ Warnings : Insinuated kidnapping, Mentions of blood, Deranged Yunho, Strangling, Use of weapons [bat].

No. This couldn’t be happening to you.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as you ran through the parking lot, ducking behind a black car before covering your mouth with a sniffle. Your entire body shook as you tried to muffle your whimpers, curling as close to the car as possible as you heard a wolf whistle. Fuck, it was him.

“Darling!~ Oh Y/N!~ Where are you, my love?~ We need to go back home!”

You jumped when you heard a smash, glass raining down on the floor as you tried not to scream. Every instinct in your body was telling you to scream for help, but you knew deep down that no one would come. This was a town where it was better to not ask questions, to forget that anyone used to live in that house. To forget that your favourite bartender disappeared. No one would ask where you were if you were taken, and your existence would be forgotten. So instead you let yourself fall to the floor, scrambling underneath the car.

“Y/N, isn’t it a little late to be playing hide and seek? Come on out, I promise I won’t be mad~”

The singsong tone of his voice, paired with a low chuckle, chilled you to the bone. Unable to keep yourself from shaking violently, you tried to slow your breathing. Another smash echoed through the empty parking lot, this time closer to you. His steps seemed mere metres away, but you had no real idea how far he actually was. With the adrenaline pumping through your system, your mind might’ve been playing tricks on you. You hoped it was the latter.

“Y/N, I’m warning you. I’m getting angry, and you know how I get when I’m angry.”

You could practically feel his words searing your skin, his tone poisonous as he tapped his bat on the floor. The parking lot then went silent, almost as if all the sound had been sucked out of it. Your heavy breathing suddenly seemed too loud, so you bit into the soft flesh of your hand, the metallic tang of blood soon settling on your tongue. But it was already too late.

The sound of feet stamping against the concrete sounded through the parking lot, and before you could even react the male had grasped your ankle. He dragged you out kicking and screaming, dropping the bat and climbing on top of you, hands wrapping around your throat. Despite this, you still made a feeble attempt to call for help, nails digging into his arms as you clawed helplessly at his forearms. You drew blood but it only made him chuckle, grip tightening as he bared his teeth in a wicked grin.

“Found you.”

Send me a fake title !!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Yandere Taglist !! ˊˎ-

@agustd-essert @hyuckilstan @a-soft-hornytiny @nyghtwolff-1117 @artemis-in-your-area @violetwinters @katelynnsqueendom @mxrksbxtch @yunhobabygurl @lee--felix @multidreams-and-desires @anpanseok @itbecina @kun-flower @ccarpc @yunhosprettyhand @mingitheii @vilavixg @the-answer-is-love-yrself @taehyunscaramelfrappe @mrcarrots @effulgentfireflies @lisa14-blog1 @imwhoever @cactusmalassus @ateezbabysitters @meowmeowminnie @soft-teddybear @cheline @hwarora @a1sh1teruu

Apply for the taglists here -> ꕥ༉‧₊˚.

#the archives ☾❃☽#yunho {✯}#violent {♢}#requests {✓}#yunho #yandere yunho #ateez #yandere ateez #jung yunho

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jungwooisms · 2 years

Text

hwarang | kun

ACT III - THE END

pairing: qian kun x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, supernatural members: moon taeil, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, li yongqin (ten), jeong jaehyun, wong yukhei (lucas), xiao dejun (xiaojun), wong kunhang (hendery), huang renjun, na jaemin, lee donghyuck (haechan), osaki shotaro, warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, injuries, alcohol, major character death, minor character death, war, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 43.2k it is important to read the prologue & act i & act ii first to understand the context of this! i can’t link it here but it’s on my masterlist!

June 7, 665 – Seonggwa Inn, Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla By the time that the Hwarang finish following King Munmu of Silla to Ungjin, they find themselves holed up in Seonggwa Inn, a relatively spacious lodging, as their king speaks of a treaty between his kingdom and the Tang. With each day, the Hwarang hope that the potential of invading Goguryeo due to their aiding and abetting with the now quelled Baekje forces becomes a reality.

Silla hadn’t lost the conflict with Baekje, without the aid of the Tang the story would be entirely different though. Yet, with their aid, it had begun to expose several rifts in both the Crown and the Hwarang in favor for or against the additional help.

The recent attack on Taeil’s life, as well as Yongqin’s illness, has confined both of them to staying with Doctor Namekawa Yasuo to treat them. So, while they don’t remain at the newest Hwarang headquarters, they still reside within Ungjin. Although present in spirit, some of the men have begun to notice their rather large absences…

“He’s probably just run off to not have to deal with this shit,” one of the warriors guffaws at the thought of Taeil not returning. A few others around him return the sentiment.

“He’d never do that,” a serious voice responds, you turn to see Jeno looking angrily at the group, “All of you are complaining instead of focusing on the work we have ahead of us.”

Normally such insubordination from a lower wang-do was met with harsh consequences, yet things had changed since coming to Ungjin.

“You all have too much to talk about, go sharpen your swords or train,” Yukhei adds to Jeno’s proclamation.

With grumbled acceptance, several of the Hwarang run off.

“I can see where they’re coming from… They’re tired, I suppose,” Jaehyun huffs out, shaking his head as he watches the other scurry away. “We’ve been sitting here without orders for weeks.”

“True, but I mean… What else are we going to do while Munmu’s off kissing up to the Tang?” Yukhei frowns, moving his head from side to side to crack his joints.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jaehyun retorts, “These men were ready to die for him not too long ago, I’m pretty sure they just want to run out the loyalists and Goguryeo soldiers just like we do.”

“So…” Jeno murmurs, “What’s going to happen now?

“Taeil’s stuck in bed. Even if we wanted to run after the traitors, we’re not going to be able to touch them if we leave too late,” Yukhei sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Future’s looking pretty dark if we’re looking north… Maybe we oughta head to Jinro-dong again…”

“Jinro-dong?” Jaehyun’s brow furrows at the mention of the nightlife district, “Really? In a time like this?”

“Of course you idiot,” Yukhei scoffs, “Times like this are when we need to party hard! Gotta lift our spirits somehow!”

“Huh,” Sungchan, who’d been standing in the courtyard along you all quietly, asks, “Does anyone know where Yuta is? I haven’t seen him around lately…”

“He’s off helping Namekawa,” Jaehyun explains, “We still have a lot of injured men after the last fight.”

You frown, not saying anything. Memories of the peaceful times back in Seorabeol are like a candle flickering in the wind, one breath away from turning it all into smoke. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if they really had happened at all.

June 18, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla When you hear footsteps walking up the entranceway of the inn, you think it’s just another Hwarang returning from town until…

“Hello,” a soft voice greets, “It’s been a while.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen upon looking up from your work and finding Kim Jungwoo standing before you. “Jungwoo… What brings you here?”

“I've come to discuss a few important matters with Kun, would you mind taking me to him?” He asks as his shoe slowly taps at the gravelly rocks underfoot.

Sometime after you lead him to the Commander’s quarters, murmurs of conversation suddenly become exclamation.

“Are you sure?!” Kun says angrily as you peer into the room.

“Yes,” Jungwoo nods solemnly, eyes trained on the floor, “Supposedly, an urgent matter has arisen, meaning he cannot meet with us.”

“… No.” Kun frowns as he shakes his head, “We need to talk to him. I don’t care how. If we don’t, we’re stuck here. I’ll go.” And with that, he storms towards you, toward the exit. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he goes, only looking as pensive as ever as he leaves the compound.

“Did something happen?” You ask Jungwoo, who’s gaze had risen to watch the Hwarang leave.

“Kun had planned to meet with a member of the king’s council today, but I’d been informed that the man hadn’t planned on showing up, so I came to notify him.” Jungwoo explains quickly.

The Commander has been attempting to gather council support to try and speed up the process of invasion, however their unwillingness to try and sway the king’s favor has led to them not entertaining Kun’s initiative means.

“Do you think they’re just waiting until Tang makes a call?” You question timidly.

“Whatever the case, the King has instructed me to not make any rash decisions,” Jungwoo hums, “Honestly, in times like these, I am a little envious of Kun as he can do as he pleases… Anyway, I will be leaving now. Please send my regards to everyone.”

“Oh, of course!” You say as you begin to walk with him towards the entrance. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t offer you more courtesy while you were here.”

Shortly after Jungwoo leaves the inn, a familiar figure approaches you to ask a question.

“Is the Commander inside?” Shotaro says as you stop outside the front door.

“Ah,” you shake your head, “You’ve just missed him, he’s stepped out for the time being… Did you have business with him?”

Shotaro’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Wow, ever since we’ve gotten here, he’s been working non-stop.

“I know… I seriously wonder how he finds the time to sleep, if at all.” As far as you know, Kun should be suffering in agonizing pain during the daytime due to his condition as a Fury. However, seeing him work as tirelessly as he does, one would have no clue of his affliction at all.

“Are you okay, Shotaro? You look a bit more gaunt than usual…”

“Ah… Well… Ever since Minhyung passed away, I’ve had a lot more work to do.” Shotaro smiles sadly, “But he left it to me, and I’ll be damned if I dishonor his memory by messing it up. And seeing how far the Commander’s pushing himself for us, it wouldn’t feel right if I just sat around here all day, you know?”

“I see…” You know exactly how he feels, yet he’s actually in a position to contribute. Unlike Shotaro, there is nothing you can do for Kun, even though you yearn to be involved and do whatever you can to help.

“Well,” Shotaro nods briefly, “I’ve got plenty more to do, so I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course, please be careful.”

“By the way,” he’d begun walking before stopping himself, “There’s been a lot of killers on the street recently, looking to test their swords on a living body. Don’t travel alone, okay?”

Later that night, you’re waiting in the empty common room for the captains to return, sitting idly as your fingers tap atop the table you’re seated at when Na Jaemin comes strolling into the room.

“Evening!” He greets cheerily, moving to come over and sit beside you.

“Hey Jaemin,” you say politely, peering around him to see if anyone else has followed in behind him. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Yukhei and Jaehyun took the men to Jinro-dong, and, if you can believe it, they left me behind to house-sit.” He sighs out, resting his head on his chin, “I’m not their maid, you know. They can’t keep giving me this kind of bitch work… Well, I guess it’s nice that they’re acting like usual. To me, I mean. Like nothing ever changed.” His laugh sounds small in the empty hall.

“That reminds me, do you know where Taeyong is?” You tilt your head inquisitively as you ask. “Did he go out somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin sits up, nodding his head, “He went out on patrol.”

“Patrol?” You furrow your brow, “But we’re not in Seorabeol any more… No one’s asked us to keep peace in Ungjin…”

His face grows solemn, as if he’s quietly searching for words. “… He’s been acting weird lately. Like, today, soon as the sun went down, he said he was going on patrol. I asked if he wanted me to go with him but he said he’d be just fine on his own.”

“I’ve heard that there’s been a lot of killings at night recently, maybe he’s going out to try to learn about who or what’s causing it?” Taeyong may not have the same authority here that they had in Seorabeol, but they do still work for the Crown. Perhaps Taeyong’s just trying to protect Ungjin, regardless if he was asked to or not.

“…Well, if that’s the deal, then good.” Jaemin doesn’t sound fully convinced.

Just then, the door opens once more and Kun comes inside quietly.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greet him with a small smile.

“You’re still up?” His face is pale, but his tone is sharp. As you watch him, you can see that it looks as if he’s struggling to stand. He shakes slightly as he moves, and you get the feeling that if he were to let his concentration slip, he’d just simply collapse on the floor in front of you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You already know his answer, but you can’t help but to ask.

“No,” he shakes his head, “Just stay put, and stop thinking about that.”

Even though everyone else is working themselves thin, barely sleeping or eating, all you can do is sit around, useless.

“Hey… Don’t give me that look,” he says, noting your expression.

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, only realizing after you’d spoken that you’ve only made things worse. And apologizing makes you sound all the more miserable.

Kun nearly chuckles, “You don’t need to worry about us. Just… go make some tea, alright? Your tea isn’t that bad, I guess.”

“Okay!” You rise to your feet, “I’ll be right back.” Your feet carry you to the kitchen, a slight smile curving along your lips.

You return to the common room some minutes later, a tray with three cups atop it, along with the hot teapot steaming into the night.

“I couldn’t find any yakgwa to go with it… but I was able to sneak a few of Taeil’s old snacks…” You say as you set the tray atop the table.

“It’s alright,” Kun sighs, now sitting down at the table. “I have to get back to work as soon as I drink this anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Jaemin frowns worriedly, “You’re a Fury now. You should be sleeping during the day and working at night.”

Kun doesn’t answer, just chooses to sip at his tea for a long drawn-out moment. “When we were leaving Daegaya, Taeil said something to me. He said that if he were the King, even if he only had two hundred men, he would continue to push forward for the legacy of our Kingdom, and if he failed? Gut himself like an honorable warrior.” He huffs out a short laugh, “Now he’s stuck in bed, shot in the shoulder. He’d die for any one of us, and we all know it. Sure, I feel like shit, but that doesn’t mean I get to rest.”

The prospect of handing over a fully-functioning Hwarang back to his friend brings a gleam to his eyes. If the rest of the men are worried because their leader has been wounded by a coward's arrow… Kun is buoyed by the fact that Taeil is still alive, and that he has the courage to do what other leaders will not. He finishes his tea quickly, returning to his room with only perfunctory thanks.

Yesterday, his light had stayed on late into the night. Today, you’re sure, will likely be no different.

“I’ve got an anxious feeling about what’s ahead…” Jaemin says after Kun’s left, “He’s a Fury, but it doesn’t look as if he’s started to feel the bloodlust yet.”

“Bloodlust?”

“When you become a Fury… Something happens to you and, well, sometimes you really, really want to drink blood. Like, you need to,” he explains slowly, “It hurts, and not like how it hurts when Jeong shoves a practice sword into your gut. You want to die, just because that’ll make the pain stop.”

Your mouth hangs open. Kun already looks terrible, if unbearable pain is suddenly added to his already long list of burdens… “Is there any way to do anything about it?”

“Well, if you drink some blood, then it goes away almost immediately, but… only for a while.” Jaemin sighs out, “And the longer you go, the more painful it gets. At first you only need a little blood to feel better, but after a while you need more. And pretty soon you’ll need a whole lot before you feel better again.”

You sit there at a loss for words. Furies truly do seem like the monsters from legends.

“What about you, Jaemin? Are you…?”

“Come on,” he closes his eyes, unable to look at you, “You can’t ask me that.” After this, he makes some manner of excuse and shoots up. He departs from the common room quietly, leaving you alone with your thoughts of the commander. Is he really okay?

Lost in thoughts, you stumble upon something—your father had done research on the Furies. Perhaps he’d left something useful behind at your home… or the one that used to be yours. It’s already too late to visit… And finding an escort will be troublesome enough…

June 25, 665 – Toehwa-hyeon, Kingdom of Silla The following day, you leave a neatly written note behind at the inn for anyone who may be curious as to where you’re headed. It had only taken you a week, maybe less, to return to your home on the main roads… And it should take about that time to return.

It seems as if no one’s visited the home in several years, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. You hum to yourself, perusing the shelves and drawers for anything denoting your father’s research on the Furies. Hands brushing off a few books, you scan their contents only for them to reveal some barely legible scribbles that would take you forever to decipher.

‘No…’ You shake your head, this is the least you can do for the Hwarang.

After searching through several more books, you sit on the floor, sighing heavily as your eyes fall to the unkempt floor. Have you been foolish enough to think that this would work? That waltzing in, finding these secret documents and solving the Hwarang’s plague would be easy?

You frown, needing to rid these thoughts. So, you continue to flip through all the books and papers you can lay your hands on. As you skim through a large sheaf of papers a small stak falls onto the floor, dust flying upwards as it lands. It appears to be… some kind of formula?

“Huh?” You murmur, moving to place down the stack in your hands, reaching for the papers at your feet. Studying it, you realize what you’ve found. It details a mismade concoction your father had made after working with the Hwarang that could stop Furies’ bloodlust for a time. Maybe you’ve found something useful after all?

July 1st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla You arrive in Ungjin just as the sun settles beyond the western horizon, and as you enter the Hwarang’s compound, you’re met with Jaemin and Taeyong. Their backs turned to you, you call out to them to make sure they can hear you.

“You’re back?” His brow raises inquisitively, as if he’d not known if you were coming back. “It’s dangerous out there, you know. You shouldn’t be out at night all by yourself.”

“I meant to come back earlier… The roads were… I lost track of time, is all,” You say quickly, trying to change the subject. “Anyway! I have something for you!”

You reach into your bag, procuring the medicine you were able to make from your father’s old supplies.

“What’s this?” Taeyong questions as he looks over the powdery substance.

“It’s medicine to suppress bloodlust! I went back home and found instructions on how to make it,” you nod enthusiastically, “It should make the pain go away, at least for a little while.

His gaze looks from the medicine to you, biting his lip coyly before looking into your eyes, “Thank you, but no. Your gesture is certainly appreciated, but it isn’t needed.”

“Huh?” You say, unable to stop the exclamation from leaving you, “Wait, but… without it…”

“You are not one of us, so to you the bloodlust may seem odd, or wrong.” He gingerly hands the powder back to you, “However, the more one tries to suppress it, the greater the pain becomes. This medicine would be a minor reprieve… nothing more.” Before you can say anything else, he nods to you, “Excuse me. I must leave for patrol. Good night.”

You wonder what he’s to do about his bloodlust without the medicine as you watch him walk briskly into the night. To not only acknowledge but accept this insatiable craving as a part of one’s life seems… beyond you. It’s now that you remember Seulgi’s warning of the Hwarang’s Furies murdering people on the streets to test their strength… Had they been feeding off of innocent lives?

“I’ll take that,” Jaemin says, looking down at the medicine.

“Oh!” You nod, handing it to him, “Of course.” He stuffs it into his pocket before staring at where Taeyong had just disappeared. “I’m going on patrol with him. If he… does anything weird, I’ll stop him. So don’t worry, alright?”

“Alright,” you nod quickly, “I’m counting on you, Jaemin… Is the Commander inside?”

“Yeah,” the Hwarang nods, “he came back earlier this evening, but he locked himself in his room. Not a peep from him since.”

“Oh…” You hum, “I’m going to check on him then.”

Jaemin and you say your quick goodbyes, and you make your way inside of the inn towards Kun’s room. You hope the wave of anxiety you feel is a needless one, but you have a very bad feeling as you call out to him from behind the door of his room.

A knock, “Are you in there? I have something for you…”

Nothing. “You’re about to turn away, assuming that he’s asleep when—

Kun cries out in pain, sounding as if he’s struggling for air.

“Commander—I’m coming in!” You blurt out, opening the door and running inside quickly.

Kun lays bent over his desk at the back of the room, sweat pouring down his face as his teeth squeak horribly as he grits them. His hair lay a stark white, his eyes, when he opens them to look at you, are a harsh crimson.

“Are you okay?!” You say as you rush to his side.

“You idiot.” He groans, “Just shut up.”

“But—”

“This’ll pass… any time now… Don’t get all worked up over nothing! Leave it.” He wraps his arms around his shoulders and squeezes until his knuckles turn white as he glances up at you. His breath comes out in pants as he shivers violently.

It’s Kun’s personality to refuse any show of pain, or any emotion at all—or at least to show as little as possible. For him to be like this…The pain must be unimaginable. Is this the bloodlust that Jaemin spoke of?

You pause, knowing that he needs blood but that’s… A frown as you think of the medicine, but again, Taeyong had said it was a temporary solution. Should you give him your blood, then?

There isn’t any time to think of this any longer. It’s not the best plan, perhaps, but you cannot bear to see him in pain any longer. Besides, this is one way that you can help.

Kun shakes fiercely as you gaze upon him in horror. Saying nothing, you draw the blade at your waist.

“What the hell are you—?!” Kun’s eyes go wide as you slide your finger along the edge of the blade, a bead of thick blood forming over the cut.

“Please drink my blood,” you offer your hand to him, “It’ll make you feel better, right?”

“I can’t do that!” He refutes, his clothes drenched in sweat as he shakes like a leaf in the wind. If he had the strength you’re sure he’d try to knock your hand away.

“Don’t worry about me,” you insist, unable to watch him suffer any longer, “Please…”

Though he’s trying to resist, his eyes are locked on your finger, to the blood dripping to the floor. He balls his fist tightly, but he cannot resist.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, reaching out for your hand, “A girl shouldn’t hurt herself for a man’s sake…” Then, he brings your fingers to his lips, you wince slightly as you feel the soft caress of his tongue on your cut. Then, the gentle pressure of his teeth and lips as he sucks, drawing a few more drops out and into his mouth.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise, “I’m a Demon. I heal quickly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he frowns, “Demon or not, you’re still a girl.” By now, his breathing has already begun to calm itself; through his hand on your wrist, you can feel him stop shaking as well. A few moments later, his grasp on your wrist loosens and he slips his hand away.

The cut on your finger has already healed. The split in the flesh heals before your very eyes as you stand there quietly, Kun wincing.

“I’m sorry for being so forward…” You apologize, returning your hand to your side.

Kun takes a quiet breath and shakes his head, a sense of calm seems to emerge from him, “This isn’t the time to be pretending that I’m fine. I know that. If I want to make sure that Taeil succeeds, then I don’t have a choice. I have to become a monster.”

Absently, you move your fingers to the wrist he’d taken when he drank your blood. A peculiar feeling lingers on the surface of your skin, almost as if you can still feel his warmth there.

September 10th, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla Even after the events of that fateful night, Kun had pushed himself just as hard as he had before; he still continues to visit the council members whenever he can find the time. Eventually, that work does pay off, and he’s found himself in several meetings with the King’s closest men.

Between his demanding schedule and Fury-related difficulties, you know he must be miserable, but you know that he’s determined to give Taeil his fight. This alone seems to drive him forward.

It’s a cool evening when the doors of the compound open and Moon Taeil walks confidently into the Hwarang’s main hall.

“I apologize for worrying you all,” he smiles, scratching the back of his head.

“Welcome back!” Both Sungchan and Jeno say excitedly, “We’re happy you’re back with us.”

“You flatter me,” Taeil laughs, “But in all seriousness… Thank you. I am truly grateful that I am able to join you all again.” His eyes scan the room of men, nodding as he does, “I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s next. First, we’ll head to Hanseong. We’ve been ordered to take the city.”

Prior to this, you’d heard that Taeil has almost been promoted to a position outside of the Hwarang, while Kun has basically taken over Taeil's old role as Chief.

It’s a momentous honor to have been bestowed, although you can see that some of the men are hesitant to find cause for celebration.

“Hey, Moon,” Yukhei says from his seated position, “Who came up with the idea of us sieging Hanseong?”

“Kim Yong, why?” Taeil looks at him quizzically, “Is that a problem?”

“This guy is rumored to be a pacifist,” Yukhei pushes, “Why does he want us to go to war?”

“Besides,” Jaehyun adds, “I’ve heard that the King is perfectly willing to just go along with whatever the Tang forces want. You don’t think Kim feels the same way?”

Taeil crosses his arms before he speaks, “Wong, Jeong, these are direct orders from the King’s council. It’s true that the King is following the influence of the Tang, but to be fair, he owes them a great amount of debt. However, if we can take Hanseong, then perhaps he’ll see that he won’t need to rely on their aid as much as we drive out Goguryeo. This isn’t just a matter of winning and losing; the men in charge are saying that we are a force skilled and dedicated enough to capture Hanseong.” His voice sharp, domineering, “Isn’t our duty as warriors, then, to give all we can to this fight? Don’t you agree, Yukhei?”

“You’re going to gloss over it like that?” Yukhei scoffs, “I’m a captain of the Hwarang, but I’m not your retainer.”

Looking upset, Taeil moves to speak before Jaehyun interjects, “Yuta… what’s your take on all of this?”

“I will do whatever is commanded of me.” He says simply.

All eyes turn to Kun, who’s been observing the amicable commotion before him quietly, “We should round up more men if we’re to go to war. If we do well in Hanseong, I’m sure the Crown will send us even more men. As far as Kim goes… Doesn’t matter how much he hates war, I’m sure he knows that you cannot avoid it.” His head shakes as he sighs out, “I mean, if he refuses Tang influence at this point, what’s the point of staking out Goguryeo? What’s the point in seeking out revenge?”

“I guess you have a point,” when Kun had put it that way, it seems like Yukhei has nothing more to oppose.

“Shall we head out for the mountains near Hanseong and prepare for night raids?” Taeyong asks.

“The Fury Corps aren’t going this time,” Kun states, “You’re staying here.”

“Why?” Taeyong frowns.

“If the King does send us reinforcements, I can’t afford to let them see you.” Kun adamantly shakes his head, “There’s going to be significantly more men in Hanseong, you’ll get spotted. Then what’ll be the point of having a secret division?”

“But—!” Taeyong begins to retort until Jaemin stops him.

“The war’s only just begun… We shouldn’t be in a rush.”

You see Kun and Jaemin exchange a quick look. They must have realized how Taeyong would react and spoke of this beforehand. To you, at least, there seems to be a silent agreement.

“Alright then, everyone return to your rooms. We have some time before we leave so make sure you get your affairs in order,” Taeil stands as he addresses the room.

And that’s that. The captains soon leave for their stations, seeking to brief their men and prepare for battle. Only Kun remains behind, mumbling something to himself as he sifts through the massive stacks of paper and maps before him.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” You ask timidly as you approach him.

“Hm?” He glances up to you, “What will be okay?”

“This war… It’s not going to just be one battle, is it?” You frown, “Wouldn’t it have been better to take the Fury Corps along?”

“Oh.” He sighs, “That.” The map in hand set down, he glances at it before looking back to you, “Remember what that Sooyoung girl, or whatever her name was, warned us about the Furies killing people?”

“Yes…”

“Well. I think it might’ve been Taeyong.” He says shortly as your mouth flies open.

“What?!”

“The Fury Corps is our ace in the hole,” he continues, ignoring your short outburst, “but I can’t have them murdering people in the streets to satisfy their bloodlust. During the fight in Seorabeol they used silver arrowheads on the Furies, which made them essentially useless. Until we can figure out how to counteract the silver problem, I need to have Taeyong stay here. Jaemin will… keep an eye on him. We also may need them to collect arms for a counterattack.”

A counterattack… Does that mean Kun is planning for a possible loss in Hanseong?

“This next fight is going to be a big one. We probably shouldn’t take you, but… If I leave you here, Donghyuck might decide to try and steal you away again. So, I’m taking you with us, but you need to watch yourself and stay out of trouble.”

With the nervous knot slowly forming in your stomach, you nod, “Okay…”

October 31st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla Today, the Hwarang leave for Hanseong. And as you enter the common room, you take note of the different outfits the men have donned.

“You’re up early,” Yukhei muses, beckoning you over.

“Your clothes…” Your brow furrows at him, “Are you really Yukhei?! What are you wearing?”

“The Commander ordered us to dress in Tang clothing when going into battle from now on,” Yuta explains as you look over his new uniform as well.

You look at the Commander, dressed predominately in black, his new outfit giving him an elegant look. It suits him well, he looks almost as handsome as an actor. You can’t help but stand there and admire him for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Kun asks as he notes your prolonged gaze, “…Do you think I’m wearing it wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. No. No, definitely not.”

He laughs, “You’re strange.”

“Hm,” you shake your head and your eyes fall on Taeil, “Why aren’t you wearing Tang clothes?”

“They’re just so… heavy.” Taeil explains, “I can’t stand how the shoes are made either. I wouldn’t feel like a real warrior dressed like that. I suppose I’m being childish, but that’s my right.”

“You’re fine,” Kun smiles, “It’s not like you’ll be out on the front lines. You just have to act dignified in front of the men. Your presence alone is enough to inspire everyone.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” Taeil sounds flustered before speaking to the men, “Well, let’s go then! To Hanseong!”

November 11th, 665 – The Road North, Kingdom of Silla/Goguryeo And so, the Hwarang are headed north. During the journey, Taeil splits from the main group to visit his hometown somewhere east of the border. And after several days of his absence, the men begin to worry.

“Where is he?” Yukhei notes as the men stop along a rocky path, his eyes looking up the walkway and behind to where they’d come.

“It seems as if the Chief hasn’t caught up with us yet…” Jeno trails off, a frown of worry present on his lips.

“Still? How long is he going to sit around that inn getting drunk?” Yukhei says impatiently.

“Well, he probably hasn’t been home in a while,” Jaehyun snorts, “Probably wants to show off how successful he’s been. Not to mention he probably wants to visit his wife and daughter. He hasn’t seen them in a long time.”

“Show off, huh?” Yukhei shakes his head, “We’re marching to war. You really think this is the time for that shit?”

“He’s gone to see if the rumors of people wanting to join us were true, if they are, he needs to assess their abilities,” Kun interjects. “What better way to get to know new soldiers than by sharing a drink with them?”

“You have a point… but…”

Kun’s eyes narrow and Yukhei looks unsatisfied as the commander mutters to himself, “If we had gotten enough men before we left, then Taeil wouldn’t be out there right now.” His words cut the air like a knife.

The Hwarang had made a name for themselves in Seorabeol, but their notoriety can only carry them so far. You no longer have the luxury of interviewing potential recruits and taking the best ones; now, you need to offer incentives of alcohol and money to attract them. You know Kun would have rather cut off his own arm than stoop this low, but he has no choice.

From down the path, you can see Yuta rearing towards the group atop his horse, stopping shortly before you and leaping off, “Commander, I have something to report—The enemy has called reinforcements to Hanseong.”

“What? How did they know we were coming…” Kun frowns, “We’ve got to relay this to Taeil as soon as possible.”

November 14th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo It’s some time before the Chief receives the message and returns to the main group of Hwarang. Long enough for the news of the enemy threat to spread and causation for some to panic. Nearly fifteen hundred of the men you’d left Ungjin with desert, reducing your forces to a mere two thousand. Jaehyun and Yukhei seem only more cautious at this, both advising retreat. But Taeil decides that the Hwarang will form up for battle and fight until the bitter end.

Now that the Crown had given him direct orders, he said that there cannot be any hesitance.

“I’ll call in reinforcements from Ungjin,” Kun frowns, “One thing for sure is… We cannot afford to lose this. Make that damn clear to the reinforcements, we can’t afford to have any more deserters.”

“Of course,” Yuta nods, turning and jogging off to join the rest of the men.

After giving his directions to the last of his men, Kun looks to you.

“Go back to Ungjin with someone. This place will turn into a battlefield soon enough, and you should be somewhere safe.” The tone in his voice shows no room for you to question his call.

“I’ll stay here…” You eventually conclude, “I can’t run away to somewhere safe while everyone else is off fighting. I’ll stay here to watch over the Chief until you get back.”

Kun grimaces, “How? You can’t swing a sword to save your life, and I don’t think you’ve got the guts to kill a man. You’re not a soldier.” You’d expected him to say as much, but you’re not going to back down easily.

“It’s true that I’m not very good with a sword, but… I can still be his shield. Any small wounds I sustain will heal quickly enough.”

“Why are you doing this? No one’s asked you to,” Kun stares at you, seeing that your resolve isn’t shaken.

“I know I may be out of line when I say this, but I know that we can’t lose him. Not now.” You insist, “I’m sick and tired of always being protected, I want to help!” You’ve been with them long enough now to see how much Taeil means to Kun and the rest of the Hwarang. If you go back to Ungjin and Taeil dies… Just thinking of it makes a cold chill crawl up your spine.

Kun chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, and his hard, piercing gaze never seems to drift away from your face. Refusing to break his concentration for a long moment, he sighs.

“If you’re really that serious about this, then I’ve got an order for you,” he crosses his arms, “As a member of the Hwarang.”

“What…?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re going to guard Taeil personally. Stay by his side and give him anything he asks for.” After awaiting your baffled response he continues, “…And?”

“Yes! Sir!” Without thinking, you straighten up and nod vigorously.

“I will protect him even if it means my li—” Before you can finish, Kum cuts you off with a sharp expression.

“There’s one condition. You can’t die.” That isn’t the sort of thing you’d expect him to say. ‘Be careful’, maybe, but not ‘You can’t die’. “And don’t do anything stupid, like being his shield, or whatever bullshit you were saying. I am not ordering you to die.” He gives you one last pointed look before turning to gaze bitterly at the walls of Hanseong in the distance.

“If our enemy this time turns out to be a bunch of amateurs who’re just hoping to kiss some ass with their king, we might have a chance,” he muses. “If it’s not… That’ll be a different story. I’ll try and get back as fast as I can, but if something happens before I do, I’m counting on you and Yuta to make sure Taeil gets away clean.” Kun then looks back to you, “And none of this shield shit. You escape with him. Die, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understood?”

You feel a cold sweat on your back as his words sink their way into your skin. You’d seen others fight for their lives in battle many times, but this is the first that you’d actually be joining. Will you really be able to protect Taeil? Will it even be possible to evade your enemies, let Taeil escape and survive?

Perhaps Kun notices your sudden fear as he lets out a short, bitter laugh, “Hey. Take out your sword.”

“Huh?” You ask, stunned for a moment by the strangeness of his request before complying and unsheathing your blade from its scabbard.

Kun then moves to swiftly remove his from his hip, taking his steel and tapping it against your own. The clear tone they make draws goosebumps from your arms.

“The third rule of O Gye is to trust your friends and treat them sincerely…”

“O- Oh…” You furrow your brow. The O Gye is the set of principles that the Hwarang have followed since their inception, why is he…

“You’re a Hwarang now… Well,” he chuckles, “I suppose you’d be a Wonhwa, wouldn’t you? Regardless, this is proof.”

“Proof of what?” You ask as he smiles gently at you.

“That I’ll come back, that you can trust that I will return and that I can trust that you’ll survive too.” He lowers his blade, slipping it back into its sheath, “So you believe me, and you wait. And don’t die.” His words are confident, and listening to him, you feel as if they somehow have bolstered your spirit tenfold.

As someone who prides himself on being a Hwarang, you know these words, the O Gye, mean a great deal to him. You have to follow through, you can’t break this newly formed promise with him.

“I understand,” you nod, “I will protect the Chief and I will survive.”

November 27th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo Slowly, the Hwarang find themselves driven into a stalemate. Taeil had done his best to try and tell the men they were to slowly siege the city, to draw them out and have them surrender on their own terms to protect the area around Hanseong from becoming bloodied with battle. Unfortunately, one of the new recruits had cried out that he was a Hwarang and slain a Goguryeo soldier.

That was the spark that set the pile ablaze. The bulk of the opponent’s forces turned out to be men who’d come from the hardened battle lines of Goguyeo’s northern fronts, meaning they’d been in near constant battle with the Tang for years. It quickly becomes stalemated as the days progress. Taeil has no choice now but to retreat until forces from Ungjin arrive.

“We have to go!” You cry out as Taeil emerges from his tent, “If we don’t, you’ll be killed if Goguryeo breaks through our lines!”

“My men are still fighting out there!” He states firmly, “I cannot run away and leave them, I will not leave them behind!”

“Even if we lose this battle now, we have reinforcements coming later, and as long as you’re safe, there’s still hope for the Hwarang—” You insist as you walk with him, “We can regroup and fight back later!” You reach for his hand, pulling him as hard as you can toward the path away from the city.

Taeil looks across the battlefield at his men, hopelessly entrenched in lines that will never break or push through. The smell of death from both allied and enemy corpses stings your noses. Looking at him, you can see tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He lowers his gaze, murmuring something as Yuta returns from the front lines.

Yuta’s steely expression is colored by streaks of mud and grit from the battlefield, “Are you prepared to leave?” He notes the bags around your and Taeil’s backs, “Good. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go quickly…” You say, urging Taeil forward.

“Right…” He sighs out and begins to walk once more.

Running into the nearby forest, you escape into it under the cover of the quickly encroaching night.

“We’ll be in Silla territory soo,” you say as you look at Taeil, “Hang in there.”

“Right…” He sighs once more.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him lose before, but this is the first time you’ve seen Taeil so… drained.

“I’m sorry for being so, um, forward…” He eventually says, “I let so many of my men die…”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that now.” You say, trying to rid him of the thought, “Like the Commander said, we just don’t have what it takes to beat them right now.” Your words don’t seem to reach him as he continues to stare numbly beyond you.

“Perhaps if someone else were Chief… they might still be alive…”

“Taeil…” You let his name slip from your lips, forgetting the last time you’d referred to him by his name, not his family’s.

“Who’s there?” Before you’re able to console him any more, you hear a voice coming from the brush that sounds unfamiliar to you. Peeking out, you catch the sight of a Goguryeo soldier and freeze immediately. “I know you heard me.”

Yuta, who’d been staring intently out to where the soldier stands, murmurs, “I’ll buy you some time. Take the Chief and escape.”

Nodding quickly, you and Taeil tiptoe away through the brush, trying your best not to make any noise. Just as soon as you’re able to get Taeil moving at a decent pace, a shadow leaps out before you, barring your way forward.

“I had a feeling you might be here…” The figure of Xiao Dejun murmurs before you. Instinctively, you step backwards, unease writhing in your stomach as you wonder if Lee Donghyuck is nearby.

“Wasn’t he with the Goguryeo army in Seorabeol?” Taeil asks as you slowly nod your head. “Then we can no longer escape… I need to take responsibility for the men I’ve lost. Will you go on without me?”

“What…?” You look at him puzzled, “I can’t do that!”

Dejun had remained silent for the short exchange, but now he speaks up, “Yes, I do work with their forces. But I have been given no orders regarding the Hwarang.” His eyes shift to you, “My only business here is with her.”

“Me?” Your brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Donghyuck is… vexed by you, and that commander of yours. He disregards the kingdom’s wishes and does as he pleases, not as he is ordered. Yeon Gaesomun is troubled, to say the least. And for now, we don’t wish to cut our ties with Goguryeo quite yet.” The light in his eyes promises violence, and his body tightens as his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to make good on whatever promise he’d made. With a swift flourish, he relinquishes his blade from its sheath and narrows his eyes at you, “And for that, you must die here.”

With shaky hands, you reach for your blade, already knowing you’re no match for the Demon.

“He’s after me,” you look frantically to Taeil, “Only me. You need to escape!”

“But—!” Taeil says, panic riddling his expression.

“I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure him with a small smile. “The Hwarang need you now more than ever, you can’t abandon them.”

His mouth hangs slack for a moment, speechless. Then he shuts his jaw and draws his sword,“No matter the reason, an honorable warrior cannot run away and leave a woman to fight alone.” Despite your protest, he gets into a fighting stance, slowly closing the distance between Dejun and himself. His face calm and serene, you don’t see any hesitation in his eyes, “My recklessness has seen many of my men to their death, I don’t want it to lead another away.”

You’d seen this same expression on Jisung’s face just before he’d died on Donghyuck’s blade. Taeil’s mind has already been made.

“I am Moon Taeil, Chief of the Hwarang!” With his sword held high, he charges Dejun.

The intense force of their clash sends a shockwave rippling through the air. The clangor of metal rings out and the two part.

“You challenge me knowing that you cannot win, for the sake of someone who cannot defend themselves…” Dejun almost lets a smile creep onto the corner of his lips, “Your actions are worthy of respect.”

Taeil swings at his last word, Dejun sliding away as if he’s made of water. His hand outstretches and grabs the metal of Taeil’s blade, pushing the hilt of it into the Chief’s stomach.

As Taeil groans out, falling towards the ground, Dejun flips him around so that he slams directly onto his back.

“I’ve knocked most of the air out of him. He won’t be able to move for quite some time,” Dejun glances at Taeil writhing on the ground and then looks at you. “You’re next. Do not blame me for what I have to do.”

Raising his blade, he charges at you, kicking you in the stomach as you have no time to dodge his attack. Feeling like your whole body is about to shatter, you endure the pain just a bit more and struggle to your feet.

“You just saw the difference in our power… Are you sure you still want to put up a fight?” He asks, looking at the blade locked tightly in your grip. Noticing that you’re not budging, he nods, “Very well. I’ll humor you, then.”

Giving a huff, you readjust your grip on your sword and rush at Dejun. However, he evades your attack with no effort. You murmur to yourself how you need to change your movements, and begin to swing rapidly at him. Yet, once again, his elegant technique moves him out of the path of your blade. No matter how many times you charge and slash at him, there’s no way you’ll even scathe him. It’s not until his leg moves and kicks your arm with the force of a falling boulder that you move again.

The pain is so immediately overwhelming, you drop your blade to the forest floor, crying out in pain as you fall to the ground. Your knees skim across the dirt, digging into the earth and scraping your skin. Your brain screams at you to move, to fight, but the roar of your surely broken arm drowns it out almost entirely.

“This fight is done,” Dejun says quietly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

Your eyes close as you hear him approach, and a myriad of thoughts runs through you. An apology to Kun, first and foremost, he’d told you to survive and now you’re doing everything but. A tear carves its way down the side of your cheek as you wait for the blow to hit you.

“Giving up so soon?” A voice says calmly, “The Hwarang don’t stop fighting until they’re dead. The only thing on your mind right now should be how you’re going to out-think this idiot.”

That voice…

Your head raises and eyes shoot open just in time to see Kun leap through the air and land a strike with his sword on Dejun’s arm.

“You!” Dejun says as he recoils.

“I thought I’d only be fighting soldiers out here… Guess I’ll be taking care of a Demon, too,” Kun huffs, his white hair glimmering in the moonlight.

“Have you learned nothing since your fight with Donghyuck?” Dejun huffs, “A Fury is a mere echo of a true Demon. No matter how powerful you may think yourself, you cannot defeat us.”

Kun lets out a short laugh, “Never know until you try…”

“Only bloodshed will satisfy you… Very well.” Dejun raises his sword, “I’ll be your opponent.” Giving him a short nod, Dejun once again falls easily into a ready stance.

Kun’s blade flickers through the air, a little more than a glint of silver in the moonlight. Dejun blocks it with his own sword, dodging away from the attack. With his brow furrowed, Kun braces himself for the pushback that Dejun does, using the momentum against the commander to shove him back.

Kun’s face twists as his feet slide back into the dirt. Be it his Fury-born strength or his adrenaline- he surges forward after a split second, charging toward Dejun. His blade leaps forward, burying itself into the Demon’s chest. Blood flies from the gash, splashing across Kun’s face.

A startled noise falls from his mouth and he jerks back, pulling his sword from the wound. No sooner had it been out does the wound begin to close.

“Right…” Kun shakes his head, “You heal quickly, don’t you? It’s straight through the heart or not at all, huh?” His sword shines with the sheen of fresh blood, “I’ve got you figured out, though. I know how you move. You’re tough, but you’re not impossible.”

Drenched in blood, Kun looks more monster than human, his eyes wide and hungry. There’s something terrifying and inhuman about his expression as he whips his sword through the air.

Dejun leaps back, Kun’s sword almost catching his hand as he does so. Jabs and parries, feints and counter-feints… The battle flows between them like a living thing; it changes, moving too fast for any mortal eye to track. Neither of the two men show any sign of tiring as they dodge and attack in ways that would be unthinkable for any human.

Even in the maelstrom of death and violence, you can see Kun smiling.

The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, and his grin speaks of a Fury’s lust for death.

“I never imagined a Fury could match me in battle…” Dejun murmurs as the two part, “You are unexpected. This power, though, what will you do with it?”

“What?” Kun says, confused. “Protect those I care for. What other reason could there be for wanting power?”

“Those you care for… Would you count Silla among that number?”

“No… This is bigger than the Kingdom. They can’t compare.”

Dejun closes his eyes and stays silent for a moment. What’s gotten into him? Why had he stopped fighting?

This would be a perfect time to strike, right?

Just as you think to pick up your blade and move toward him, you feel a hand on your shoulder, “Stay back.” Yuta, who you hadn’t heard return, stops you despite your protest. “That Demon no longer thirsts for blood. This battle is over.”

“Demons are not meant to involve themselves in the world of humans,” Dejun states as he opens his eyes to stare at Kun, who’d lowered his sword. “Now that you’ve become a Fury, you belong in the shadows as well.”

“Yeah.” Kun says shortly, “I’m not interested in my name being written in the annals.”

“If you understand that, I shall leave the rest to you.” Dejun shakes his head, “Donghyuck is proud, even for a Demon. If you have indeed humiliated him, I doubt he will ever forgive you. It is unlikely that you will defeat him… However, if there is something you wish to protect, then please… use the powers you’ve been granted to do so.”

In his own stoic way, Kun looks as confused as you feel. Can Dejun be trusted?

“There is one more thing I must tell you…” Dejun warns, “The power of the Furies is not magic, or a gift from the gods. Great strength, lightning speed, and mortal wounds that close themselves… This power was already within you, but had you stayed human you would have spent it in decades, not minutes. You are only borrowing these things.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms at the realization. By ‘borrowing’, does he mean that when Kun taps into the speed and strength of a Fury, he’s picking away at his future—his life?

“So you’re saying that every time I use that stuff, my life gets a little shorter?” Kun asks and Dejun nods. The commander lets out a short laugh, “Makes sense. Seemed too good to be true. Guess it’s only natural that I’d have to trade something for this kind of power.”

“Then I will be on my way…”

“Hold on. I want to ask you something.” Kun stops him before he can run off, “You sure you want to let us get away? If you don’t kill me now, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up killing your friend.”

“If you defeat him, then that was all he amounted to.” Dejun states plainly, “We Demons are not sentimental.” Then, with a last polite nod, he disappears into the night,

With his enemy gone, Kun slumps and takes a long, deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Your voice comes out quietly as you look at him.

“Fine. Where’s Taeil?”

“Over there,” Yuta gestures as Kun runs off toward the Chief.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks as Taeil looks at him wide-eyed, “Are you hurt?”

“Kun… you…” With Kun standing before him, his white hair and red eyes bright in the moonlight, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. A Fury.

“Oh…” Kun begins but looks away, almost guiltily.

Staring at him a moment before speaking again, Taeil notes in a soft, stunned voice, “Are you… a Fury?”

“Uh, yeah.” Kun admits, “I didn’t have a choice, alright? It was for the Hwarang,”

For a moment, he sounds composed, but as you look closer you can see that he’s desperately avoiding Taeil’s gaze. Not being able to bear looking him in the eye.

Everyone is silent for a moment before the first raindrop hits you, taking you by surprise.

“…It’s starting to rain…” Kun sighs, “We need to get back to Ungjin and reorganize. We need to discuss our next move.”

“Right,” you nod, reaching out to tug at Taeil’s sleeve, “Come on, we need to hurry.” Taeil simply stands there, almost as if he’s forgotten how to walk. “Is something wrong?” It begins to rain harder yet he doesn’t budge.

Rain runs down his cheeks to his chin, or are they tears?

“What…” He murmurs, “What have I been doing…? Today I sent men—men who trusted me—into battle. They died. And I’ve made you,” his gaze flickers to Kun, “a man I’ve known for years, into a Fury. A monster…”

“Taeil…” Kun’s brow furrows at him, “What is this? No one blames you. We were able to take the city because Wen Junhui’s forces showed up— No matter how good of a tactician you are, we couldn’t have taken Hanseong alone.” He shakes his head, “I made bad calls too, and it got Jisung and Minhyung killed. We cannot change the past. What we can do is turn this around and keep fighting with our all. Besides, I don’t regret becoming a Fury.”

He laughs shortly, “Hell, I’m stronger and faster than I ever was, and I can use that to help you out. Nothing could make me happier.”

Rain pours onto their faces. Surely it’s in your imagination, but for a moment, it almost looks as if Kun is crying. Taeil stares at him for a long moment, then finally draws himself together.

“I’m sorry,” Taeil shakes his head with a small smile, “I was being foolish. Forget what I said.” Something in his voice tells you that even he doesn’t quite believe that.

December 2nd, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla The Hwarang had returned to Ungjin. Rejoining with your friends and the rest of the men who had stayed behind feels bittersweet. Your mind often turns to Taeil, who expectedly remains disconsolate after his first defeat on the battlefield.

Even after the attempts to rouse him, he spends most of his time in his quarters, moping. The man who had come in only hours after the Hwarang had given up their position in Hanseong, Wen Junhui, would be arriving in Ungjin any day now. His victory over the Goguryeo forces had been a swift undertaking, something of a thorn in the Chief’s side.

You think of this future meeting as someone brushes past you just as you’re about to begin lighting the lanterns outside of the headquarters.

“Oh– Yuta? Are you off to work?”

The man gives you a curt nod, “When you have a moment, could you make some tea and bring it to Kun?” Without waiting for a response, he gives you a small smile and scurries off.

Yuta had never been a talkative man in your presence, or anyone’s, really. Yet he’d lately taken on a taciturn demeanor. Is he still upset by the events from Hanseong…? Or maybe…

The day after the large posse had returned to Ungjin, you awoke the next morning to Yukhei and JAehyun loitering around the main hall, their gear and belongings tucked away into haphazardly made bags.

‘We’ve made up our minds’ you recall Yukhei saying, a dimness in his voice that you would have never attributed to him prior to that meeting. ‘Our path isn’t Taeil’s. I don’t think we can follow him anymore.’

It was a blurry goodbye after that, and you suspect that you’re not fully over their departure, either. Of course, you’ve only known them for a few years, not the lifetime it seems that they’ve had with the other men.

Along with their departure, Yongqin had been moved to Sabi, a southern town known for its medicinal practices. Finding his room empty left you feeling bereft as well.

One by one, the group that you’d come to find as a second family is slowly falling apart.

As you light the last lantern you sigh to yourself and decide to go make tea, as requested by Yuta.

The tray remains sturdy in your grasp, even if you can hear the ceramic clinking against itself as you approach the Commander’s door, “Good evening, I’ve brought you tea…” As you speak, you open the door, stopping almost immediately as the gazes of Kun, Jaemin and Taeyong fall onto you.

Their conversation must’ve been important judging by the hardset lines carved into their expressions.

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, “I hadn’t realized that you were in the middle of a meeting.” Feet trailing backwards, you’re almost out of the room when Kun speaks up.

“You can stay.”

His words halt your movement and Taeyong piques your interest as he looks back to Kun, glaring, “You cannot possibly be serious about this! Why would you halt the augmentation of the Fury Corps?!”

“I am serious,” Kun’s attention turns from you and once back to his comrade. “I will not have any more men being turned into Furies. Make do with what you have.”

“I apologize but I cannot support your decision. The Hwarang’s power is at an all time low, even if Silla is standing against Goguryeo and winning– I think that expanding the Fury Corps to keep this fight pushing forward is our only option.” Taeyong’s voice is a strained composure as he grits his teeth and continues, “Jaemin told me that Yukhei and Jaehyun have left. That is a serious blow to us, Kun.”

“You saw what happened in Hanseong– Even if we recruit more, they’ll run off on us. Wasting our effort on pitiful men like that is foolish. Would it not be better to focus on those who have abided by our code? Who understands what it means to be a Hwarang?”

Jaemin looks to the floor, his shoe gently tapping the boards underneath. He’s been silent since you arrived, but you can clearly see that he isn’t agreeing with Taeyong fully.

“You make several good points, Taeyong.” Kun frowns, his arms crossing, “If we want increased strength, the best way to attain that is through the Fury Corps.”

“Then why–!” Taeyong begins.

“There’s a problem with the Furies. A big one. We only just found out about it and our source is,” Kun glances at you briefly, “reliable.” With your eyes widening at what’s to come, you can only look at Jaemin's and Taeyong’s faces as he divulges what Dejun had told you.

“The power of a Fury comes from your… potential. The more you use it, the shorter your life becomes.”

Taeyong’s gaze, usually cool and calculating, goes awry as he processes. From his standing position he falls to his knees, hitting the wood with a thud. A surge of realization of his powerlessness registers within him.

“Yeah,” Kun’s voice falls into a somber lull, “We shouldn’t be using the Furies unless we really have to.”

After several long moments of silence, Taeyong raises his head to speak, “Then that is yet another reason why the research must continue.” He pushes himself from the floor, brushing off his knees and looking at Kun, “It is a flaw, yes, and a serious one. But with more research… We may find a way to circumvent, or even counteract, it entirely. As a Fury, you should understand.”

“This is not a request, Taeyong. This is an order.” Kun’s arms uncross and seems ready to impose his status over the other, “As your Commander, I am telling you that research on Furies will stop. There will be no more.”

Taeyong says nothing, he just glares at Kun until seconds once again turn into minutes.

“Let’s go, Taeyong…” Jaemin tries to urge him. When Taeyong turns to him, you can see lines in his face, perhaps proof that his life is already steadily leaving him.

You step aside to let them leave, and as they open the door, the figure of Taeil is seen passing by in the hall.

“Oh, Chief,” Jaemin stops, “Were you coming in?”

“No…Uh… No, I’m just out for a walk,” Taeil chuckles, “Just passing by. Don’t mind me.” A few more pleasantries were exchanged and then the sound of three sets of footsteps trail away down the hall.

You’re reminded of Kun’s presence when he sighs behind you, you spin on your heels and note that he’s looking forlornly out of the small window in his room.

“I’m sure the tea’s cold by now,” you look at the tray in your hands, “Let me get you a fresh pot.”

“No,” he stops you, gaze broken from the window and now linked to you, “I’m thirsty, cold tea’s perfect.” His hand gingerly reaches out to the tray as you approach and swiftly grabs one of the cups atop it. Kun brings his lips to the porcelain and he sighs, a distant look twinkles in his eyes.

“He’s right, you know.” Kun says as he sets his empty cup down. “Taeyong’s right. Jaehyun and Yukhei leaving… It hurt us bad.” His voice shakes almost imperceptibly, his lips curling into a bitter smile, “I had a feeling this might happen someday. It’s our fault for falling short of what they wanted. But damn, we sure have lost a lot of people. Things are undeniably different now.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what’s going through his head. He’s been working from dusk to dawn, has he even had time to grieve anyone properly? Even with the strength that his newfound Fury powers had given him, you can see the horrible toll it’s taken on his body.

“Kun…” you say softly, “you have to stop.”

“What?” His voice is much rougher than you though, giving you momentary pause.

“I’m only telling you to do what you told Taeyong to do a few moments ago. Don’t use your Fury abilities unless it’s an emergency.”

“Why should I listen to you?” His expression questioning.

“Well… You turned into a Fury to save me from Donghyuck, you wouldn’t have had to unl–”

“This again?” He sighs, “Look, I said I chose to do it. I wasn’t forced.”

A pang reverberates around your ribcage, “When you say things like that, it only makes it worse. If you’re in pain, just say so. Don’t you wish you’d never become a Fury?”

For a moment, the room is quiet, and then Kun begins to laugh. “I just can’t win with you, can I? You really are from the countryside.” Another chortle before he continues, “I can’t remember if I’ve told you this before– Anyway, I am the adopted son of a sixth rank noble, I hardly knew my birth parents. I was raised with the noble’s son and daughter, Hoseok and Joohyun. You kind of sound like Joohyun. Yongqin’s sister Cheng sounds the same way too. When you go off, it’s like I’m being scolded by my family. Makes me feel like I have to listen to you.”

You’d never heard him speak of his childhood like this before. It’s surreal in a way.

“If what Dejun told us is true, then as long as I don’t use my Fury powers, I’ll be alright, right?” His lightheartedness flees slightly as he huffs out a puff of air, “If it gets bad I’ll let you know. Stop worrying about me.”

He’ll likely keep most of his pain to himself– that’s just who he is, but if he really means what he’d said…

“I understand,” you say with a nod, another thought beginning to bubble to the surface. “So… What will happen to the Hwarang now?”

“Well, we need to get Taeil to snap out of it, but after that, we’re heading north.”

“North? You mean back to…”

“Yeah, back to Hanseong.” Kun cedes with a sigh, “The Tang forces may have saved our asses up there but it doesn’t mean that they don’t want every man they can take fighting alongside them. Some of Namekawa’s men are stationed there too, hoping to round up some men and head to Bakjak. We’ll try to pincer Pyongyang and take those–” Suddenly, Kun’s body contorts and hunches, his hand grasping at his now heaving chest. His eyes wide in pain, sweat begins to pour from his head and he mutters out through clenched teeth, “Fuck, fuck–!”

“Kun?” Your mouth lays agape as the hair on his head turns an alabaster white. It’s bloodlust, you’re sure of it. “You need blood…” The sentence isn’t a question, and you react almost instinctively, recalling what you’d done for him before.

With unsteady hands you reach for the blade at your hip, laying its cool edge on the palm of your hand before his hand grasps around your wrist. Trying to pull away, you're met with a fervent shaking of his head.

“I’ll do it,” he murmurs, straightening himself to the best of his ability. Kun moves around you, standing behind you as he loosens your collar as the night air hits your neck followed by his fingertips. Seconds later you feel the kiss of a cold blade against your neck before feeling it slide against your skin. You try your best not to wince but the air makes the cut sting.

The cold is eventually replaced by the warmth of his face as his lips fall onto the cut. Heat raids your body, never before had you been this close to a man before. Nerves make your body twist to try and look at him until Kun’s hands grab your shoulders.

“Don’t look,” his voice low, husky. And you nod, not particularly sure that you want to see him in his Fury state. Those few words– a last, strained defense of his wounded pride– tear at your heart, and a knot gets stuck in your throat. For his sake you try and calm your nerves, although you can still feel your heart racing.

“I’m sorry… I can’t afford to lose it right now.” You’re unsure if he’s saying that to calm himself or calm you.

“Of course…” Your voice leaves you quietly, “You don’t need to hold back, I want to help in whatever way I can.”

In the days you watched both Minhyung and Jisung die, you’d find yourself inundated with near tortuous regret. There had been nothing in your power you could do for them. Ever since those fateful days it has been your resolve to help the Hwarang after they’d aided and sheltered you for so long.

Kun’s grip tightens on your shoulder, and a wave of emotions washes over you– guilt, disappointment, anger, regret– and you soon realize that they are not your own. They’re his.

Eventually he lets go and steps away from you.

“I’m sorry for doing that…” His hair back to its darkened state, he can’t seem to meet your gaze.

“It’s nothing,” you insist, adjusting the collar of your outfit that he’d shifted aside, “See? The cut’s already closed up.” Seeing his still-stolid demeanor, you continue, “I’ll be staying here for a while longer so please, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“So I can just drink your blood whenever?”

You nod, “You can.”

Kun cracks an eye open and gives you a small chuckle as he shakes his head, “Shouldn’t say things like that. Someone’s gonna use you up and throw you away.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s a part of you that feels if it were he that used you up then it wouldn’t be that bad.

April 7th, 666 - Hanseong, Kingdom of Silla Sometime after the incident between Kun and you, you begin to move northward, back to Hanseong. Nearly a month after its liberation from the Goguryeo forces, the Hwarang settled on a private estate just outside of the city’s walls. Taeil had been reluctant to return to the battlefields, but after several conversations with Kun, he’d become convinced otherwise.

Until the preparations to siege Pyongyang were in place, you would be set up in Hanseong to train. Yuta had gone to a town some ways south to train in Tang weaponry with one of Wen Junhui’s assistants, Hao Chujun. Taeyong and Jaemin had left with the Fury Corps along the naval route to Bakjak as they were not permitted to travel to Hanseong.

“Do you know where the Chief is?” A voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Jeong Sungchan standing there, his eyes wide.

“I think he’s reading in his room,” you have to think of when you last saw him. Weight shifting from foot to foot you try not to look concerned, “Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing in particular, but…” There’s a peculiar expression on his face you can’t quite grasp. “I can’t shake this worrying feeling like he’s lost the will for us to fight again since the last time we were here…”

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, “I don’t think that’s the case. I can’t say that he’s completely lost his will to fight.”

Sungchan is hesitant to respond as he stays quiet, eventually speaking again, “You’re probably right, huh? I mean, Commander Qian is still giving his all for him. I’m sure he’ll return to his old self soon enough.” With that, Sungchan quickly scurries off, racing back into the depths of the manor.

As you watch him, you can’t help but let his words sting you a little. Taeil certainly had lost some of that ambitious fire he’d always had in his eyes as of late. If he wasn’t holed up reading in his room, he’d spend time in solitude out in the garden. Yet, you hold on hope that his confidence had deflated only a little after the battle in Hanseong.

Prompted by the meeting with Sungchan, you decide to pay the Chief a visit a few hours later.

“I’ve brought you some tea,” You say quietly as you slide open the door. Taeil sits behind his desk, nose buried in a bound novel, and he greets you with a smile. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, this is Jemangmaega,” he lowers the book, closing it but saving his place with a scrap piece of parchment. A collection of poems but more critical than that if one reads further into the text. I practically know them by heart now, but with each time I reread them I find I learn something new.”

“When I was younger I wanted to be just like Kim Yushin– he fought for others, more so than just himself,” his grin lasts for a moment before fading, “But I suppose dreaming about being a great commander doesn’t just make you one… I wish I realized that a bit sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” You tilt your head, “You’ve only just begun.”

“... How’s Kun?” He asks, not seeming to have heard your prior statement.

“I think he’s in his room writing something.” You state, “Probably writing orders for Yuta, he’s off with Hao Chujun in Kyeju, you know.”

“Ah…” Taeil sighs, “I keep giving Kun so much to do.”

“I don’t think he’s pushing himself too hard,” you say quickly, “And nothing makes him happier than being able to help you. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

Taeil chuckles at that, “You’ve turned out to be quite a page to him, haven’t you? I think you know him quite well by now.”

“You think so?” You feel your cheeks warm at his certainty. “That’s right… I was supposed to be his page, wasn’t I?”

“To be truthful, I never thought that you’d be with us for this long…” Before you knew it, the two of you had begun to reminisce about your time in Seorabeol. Back then, you never could have guessed where fate would take you. There have been constant challenges, but you thought that’d you’d eventually return to your lives in the capital.

“I know things will work out. The Commander will get us through this.”

Taeil responds with a melancholy laugh, “Don’t you think you’re asking quite a bit of him?”

“... What do you mean?”

Before Taeil has any time to answer, the door opens with a snap, Shotaro and Kun briskly walking inside, their faces tense and drawn.

“We have to go. Now.” Kun says sharply, “The place’s surrounded.”

“There’s two, maybe three hundred of them out there. We came in through the back so they wouldn’t see us,” Shotaro says solemnly.

“If it were only twenty or thirty then we could take them… But we don’t have time to call Yuta and his men. Guess we’ll have to come up with something here. You two take Taeil and go on ahead,” Kun says quickly.

“What?!” You speak up, “Not even you can take on that many people. And it’s still daytime…”

“A majority of the soldiers out there are archers,” Shotaro says as both you and he move toward the door in an effort to block it should Kun try and get out.

Taeil, having been in quiet contemplation since their arrival, speaks out, “You needn't do that, Kun. I’ll go and have them take me to their headquarters.”

“What the hell?!” Kun shouts out incredulously, “You might as well just paint a target on your chest!”

“I won’t introduce myself as Moon Taeil of the Hwarang, of course,” Taeil sighs as he rises to his feet, “I’ll tell them that we’re soldiers here to just secure the location. At any rate, it should buy you enough time to get away.”

While you and Shotaro lay shocked into silence, Kun doesn’t relent, “Listen to yourself! You really think they’ll let you waltz in and fuck with them like that?! You know how they work! There’s no way in hell that those bastards don’t hate our guts! They won’t believe that shit about us being soldiers for a second!”

“Well, even if I do get captured, I have the status of a Lord. They can’t just kill me.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Kun’s face is a near vibrant red at the moment, “You think they’ll give a shit about a title you have from the Kingdom they’re against?! You go out there, you’re signing your death warrant. You really think I’ll just let you do that?!”

No matter what the Commander yells at him, Taeil’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve made my decision. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

Kuns fists begin to shake by his sides. In all your time with the Hwarang, you’ve never seen either of them act like this before.

“No! No! What the hell are the Hwarang going to do without their Chief?!” Kun shouts, “You’re coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you along! You have a responsibility to the Hwarang! You don’t get to die and run away from that!” He’s screaming at Taeil, his white knuckled fists now gripping the front of the other man’s robes and his eyes red with held-back tears.

Yet his fury and pleas break across Taeil’s impassable calm like wind against a mountain.

“This is a direct order!” Taeil says sternly as Kun’s hands drop from his robes, “You will go to Kyeju to meet with the rest of our men. The two of you will accompany him as well.” Kun stumbles back a step or two at the force of Taeil’s voice.

“You’re going to tell me what to do…? What the hell is this?!” Kun asks near incredulously.

“Aren’t your Chief’s orders absolute?” Taeil asks with a tilt of his head, “You’ve ordered men to kill themselves, or to become Furies from disobeying that rule. Are you somehow an exception? Is that the sort of warrior you want to be?”

Kun says nothing.

As long as he’d been commander, Kun strove to lead by example. He lived by the O Gye and demanded that others do likewise to groom the Hwarang into true warriors. There’s no doubt Taeil had counted on that fact. He meant to do it to keep Kun alive.

Taeil looks to you and Shotaro, stepping a few paces in your direction, “I want you to leave with Kun. If you take too long, they’ll attack and my surrender will mean nothing.” He gives you two a small shove to get you moving, Shotaro turns to look at Kun.

“Commander… Let’s go.”

He only stands, chewing his lip, until Taeil lays his hands on his friend’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile.

“Hey, Kun… Let it go. Let me go.” Taeil says softly, “You’ve run yourself ragged trying to earn me the status and fame that I wanted. You even turned yourself into a Fury… It kills me to see you do all of these things for me… I’m not worth it.”

Kun doesn’t meet his friend’s gaze, he instead blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and stares desperately at the floor. Then he swallows the lump in his throat, his voice tight and strained when he speaks, “I– If I do this, then what have I been fighting for all these years? I became a warrior, served our Kingdom… I won numerous battles and killed men… All because I thought you’d be there at the end with all of us…”

“I’m sorry,” Taeil’s voice reflects the softness of the other’s, “I brought you here, I did this to you. Thinking back on it, it was all sort of a dream. We weren’t real warriors yet but we strapped on our swords and went to work.” His voice is warm, but that seems to make it even more difficult for Kun to let go.

The room is still before the commander speaks, “Osaki… Send a message to our remaining men. We need to secure an escape route.” His gaze then falls to you, “Stay here. Once we’re ready, I’ll come get you.”

“Okay,” you nod quickly. And with that, Shotaro and Kun leave, and Taeil and you are alone once more.

“Take this with you,” Taeil says as he begins to reach for something in his robes. After a moment, he hands you a small cloth bag, it clinks as it rests in your palm.

“What is it?”

“Money. To help you escape. I wasn’t able to do anything for you. This is a token of my appreciation, for all you’ve done for us. Please, take it.” His warmth still lingers on the fabric of the bag, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “You still have time. I’ll tell Kun. Once you get away, go somewhere safe and look for Doctor Namekawa… Just forget you had anything to do with us. Marry someone you love and live a peaceful life. Find happiness.”

While you appreciate his kind gestures you cannot find it within yourself to follow his guidance, “No, I won’t run. I want to go with Kun. I’m… I’m his page…” Your teeth catch your lip, afraid that if you say any more you may cry. Instead, you look up to Taeil and do your best to smile.

His eyes are warm as he looks to you, “Our Commander’s been blessed with some great friends. I’ll be counting on you, then. Take care of him for me.”

Eventually, Kun and Shotaro return. They gather you and the rest of the men in an outer courtyard on the premises, including Jeno and Sungchan.

“What?!” Jeno shouts, “We’re going to leave Chief behind? Is that true Commander?!”

“Chief’s orders,” Kun says sternly, “You’re all going to escape this place and I’ll be right behind you.”

“If he just surrenders, then his cover will be blown immediately!” Jeno insists, “At least here, I could remain by his si–”

“I said, ‘Chief’s orders’! Or do you have shit in your ears?!” Kun snaps, “Don’t you dare put Taeil’s efforts in vain with your stupid suggestions!”

Jeno looks as if he wants to respond, but instead he looks down as he tightens his fists and shakes.

Just then, Sungchan says, “I’m going to stay. I understand they’re the Chief’s orders. However, as a warrior of the Hwarang, I cannot abandon the Chief.”

“Jeong Sungchan!” Shotaro raises his voice, only to be interjected.

“Sungchan you bastard…” Kun frowns, “You really want this steel in your gut right now?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Sungchan’s eyes burn with intense vigor as he glares back at Kun. “I understand you, more than anyone else, want to remain here. But the Chief entrusted the Hwarang to you, which is why you can’t… So that’s why I want to protect him in your stead, Commander!”

Kun curls his lip, staring at him for a long moment before unsheathing his blade at his hip.

“Commander!” As the exclamation leaves Shotaro’s mouth, Kun points the tip of the sword toward Sungchan’s throat.

“You said you’ll protect the Chief, right?”

Sweat trickles down Sungchan’s reddened cheeks, “...Yes, I will.”

“Then you’d better keep your goddamn word. No matter what, your eyes don’t leave Moon, got it?”

Sungchan’s eyes grow wide, trembling for a moment but soon after brim with a fiery determination, “Yes, sir! I, Jeong Sungchan, promise to protect the Chief's life, no matter the cost!”

It seems as if he’s convinced Kun, as the latter returns his blade to its sheath. “Let’s go.” His words are curt as he nods quikly before leaving the residence behind.

In a short while, Taeil and Sungchan will hand their terms of surrender to the Goguryeo army. You find yourself looking back over your shoulder many times as you run. Soon, Taeil will surrender to his enemies. Perhaps, you think time and time again, if you turn around now, you can rescue him,

Shotaro seems to feel the same way, but Kun never once turns back.

April 7th, 666 – The Road South, Kingdom of Silla You run and run through the forest to Kyeju. It doesn’t matter how quickly you get there– it’s not soon enough to bring back an army to save Taeil.

“Are you alright?” Shotaro asks as he falls in step by your side, “We can rest if you’re tired.”

“I’m alright,” you shake your head, “I can keep going.”

Kun, with his back to you, says nothing, but you can feel each pained step he takes away from his friend.

The sun begins to dip towards the western horizon and night starts to fall when your party is stopped by a group of Goguryeo soldiers.

“You there! Stop!” One of them commands, his hand already hovering over the hilt of his sword, “Where are you headed?”

Kun only frowns and makes his way to walk past the soldier.

“He said to stop!” Another soldier yells out, “Goddamn it, are you more of those Silla guys?”

“Hold,” the first man pauses, “I’ve seen him before. You’re that bastard from the Hwarang, aren’t you?”

“You mean those guys that offed Suh?” The soldiers around them begin to scramble for their weapons.

Unfortunately, they aren’t fast enough for Kun. His hair snaps white and he shoots forward, toward the soldiers, sword in hand. His strikes are so fast and elegant that the eye barely even has time to perceive what happened before the two men fall dead.

“Wrong day to fuck with me, boys.”

A volley of soldiers rush forward, as well as a few arrows loosened in his direction. One of the arrows pierces his shoulder and Kun cries out, swiftly pulling it from the wound. It immediately begins to close as he smirks at them, “That’s how it feels getting shot, huh? Not as bad as I thought.” His gaze sharpens on those left before him, “This is nothing! This doesn’t even come close to what Taeil’s going through!”

Kun launches himself at the nearest of the soldiers, his sword already in motion and his face twisted by grief and anger. Even without Fury powers, Kun and Shotaro could have made easy work of this small troop of men… But rage and frustration boiling over since you’d left Taeil had erupted in a torrent of violence.

“You can’t use your powers–!” You call out to Kun, trying to stop his relentless assault.

“Shut up!” He snarls at you, “Stay out of this!”

He knows what he’s doing, but he’s far past caring. Kun leaps from tree to tree, his sword flashing like lightning. Every time it moves, a life ends. Rage, anguish and an unrestrained thirst for blood radiates from him like heat from a blaze from a fire. Blood soaks his face and hands. Still, he cuts and cuts, never satisfied.

You see Shotaro and Jeno sweating as they stand silently, watching Kun fight as a Fury. They’re mesmerized and you can hardly blame them. Every swing of his sword spills a man to the dirt. He looks like a monster. At last, the only man left alive is Kun himself.

Silence falls over the forest once more, save for the birds that have restarted their chatter,

“Shotaro… Jeno… Go see if there’s any more of them.” Desperate to distance themselves from the bloodshed, the two depart quickly after Kun’s orders. “You. Go with them.”

Normally you would do as he’d asked and followed after them but now…

“What?” Kun turns to you, noticing your hesitation, “I gave you an order.” His words cut like a knife but you don’t move.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“I am your commanding officer. I am giving you an order.” He sounds angry, as he oft does, but just behind that there's a deep, miserable sadness. If he doesn’t stay angry, you feel, he’d probably be crying.

“I promise I won’t get in your way, but please, just let me stay here with you.” There’s nothing you can do for him, but you cannot bear to leave him alone.

He turns his back to you– to everything, his face hidden. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing.

You search yourself for something to say, something to ease him, but you find nothing within yourself to better him. And, after a few moments, he speaks.

“What the hell did I do… all of this for?”

How can this be the fate dealt by the god for two men so honest and determined? It just doesn’t seem fair…

“Was it just so I could give Taeil to those bastards? I busted my ass to give my friend to the enemy?” His voice trembles with every word, the weight of it all still resting heavily on him, “I was going to make him important. Help him carry himself to his family’s standards. I wanted to see him fight in the kind of battles they wrote about. Like a true warrior… I wanted to see just how far the owner of a school in the sticks could go.”

You’re not even sure if he knows that you’re still here. If he does, it seems as if he no longer cares.

“I thought we were shooting for the same dream. Long as it was for him, I felt like I could do anything. So what the hell am I doing here, alive, while he’s… he’s god knows where?! After all that self-righteous preaching, what did I do?! I turned around and left him to the wolves! He… I’m just like the king. Soon as things get dangerous, I turn tail and leave better men to deal with the mess! God damn it! Why am I alive?!”

It tears you apart to hear him lament his inner machinations aloud. You find yourself stepping forward, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face against his uniform.

“Taeil said… I mean, after you’d left, I told him that you’d figure it out,” you say softly, “and he said that I was asking too much of you.” Tears run hot down your cheeks, “It’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself… He didn’t want you to die. That’s why you’re still alive. Just… Please don’t blame yourself.”

Kun listens, saying nothing. Or perhaps he didn’t even hear you. Why do words feel so powerless when you need them the most? What good are they if you cannot comfort someone at their lowest?

“He did this to save me… but what the hell am I supposed to do without Moon Taeil of the Hwarang? The dream of helping him is what brought me here in the first place.” Kun’s shoulders shake, “Now that dream has left me… I don’t have anything left. I’m nothing.” He gives a short bark of humorless laughter, “Seriously Moon… Stop giving me all the shitty jobs.” His voice chokes on a sob and falls silent.

April 10, 666 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla The days that followed were somber, and eventually your group returned to Ungjin before regrouping with Yuta in Kyeju. When you arrived in the city, Jeno mentioned he was going to visit a friend of his, and left. However, you think Jeno’s just trying to be considerate and give Kun some space.

Arriving back at the compound, you’re shocked to see none other than Li Yongqin waiting for you.

“Evening,” he says as you walk inside, “Who would’ve thought you guys would ever come to visit me?”

“Nevermind that you should be in Sabi– why are you up this late? Just look at you,” Kun frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m a bit tired of sleeping alone, you know?” Yongqin muses, “At this rate, I’ll never get a chance to shine again… Seems to me it’s time to join you guys.”

“The hell you won’t! What makes you think you can hold a sword with that body?” Kuns words cut through the air.

“Come on, cut me some slack.” Yongqin snorts, “I’ve been feeling great lately. So…” As he begins his next statement, he turns to cough into his fist. The fit doesn’t relent until he crouches on the floor, coughing painfully with strained breaths.

“Are you alright, Yongqin?” You ask, rubbing his back as he tries to catch his breath. Under your palm, you can feel the bones of his back. At first glance, he may look to be improving but he’s lost a lot of weight and it’s almost painful to look at.

“See?” Kun turns to look down at him, “What’d I tell you? Why don’t you admit you’re sick for once, and take it easy?”

Yongqin bites his lips out of frustration, grimacing at the thought of admitting his weakness, he sighs deeply and rises to his feet, “So, how’s Moon doing? Too busy to visit me again?”

You flinch at the mention of Taeil, which causes your body to jolt unexpectedly. Kun, however, is unfazed by the question.

“He’s a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“How’s his shoulder doing? Isn’t it tough for him to be up and about?”

“That was a while ago. He’s fine.” Kun says, “He may not be able to wield his sword but, well, with his promotion, it’s not like he’s charging from the front lines anyway.”

“Spare me,” Yongqin waves his hand, “You’re bragging about his promotion like it’s you out there and not him. But… that’s good to hear. Taeil’s okay then.” The Hwarang seems to have eased down. It looks as if Taeil’s well-being is the only thing keeping Yongqin invested in his own health.

“Look,” Kun states, “I promise I’ll bring him next time. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll wait. But I’m not holding my breath. You’ve always been a bad liar, Kun.”

“Who the hell are you calling a liar? I’ve never lied to you about Taeil.” The tone of their conversation sounds like their usual banter, but you can understand why Jeno may have been inclined to step out. You begin to gather that there’s much for them to reminisce on, so you take the chance to sneak outside.

Cool nighttime air whispers against your cheeks as you gaze to the stars hanging above. It seems like tonight would be the final farewell between Kun and Yongqin, you need to let them have this moment to themselves. Being an outside observer to the intimacy of their conversation tells you this, at least.

In the midst of your contemplation, you think you see Jeno speaking to someone in the distance. You know he said he’d been planning to meet a friend in Ungjin but you don’t recognize the figure.

“Are you sure about that? You’re the Commander’s acquaintance, aren’t you?” You hear Jeno speak to him as you slowly approach. “You’re already here so why don’t you stop by?”

“I think I’ll pass on that.” The person says coolly.

“Why?” Jeno questions further, “This may be the last time we step foot in Ungjin.”

“Wasn’t Taeil just arrested by Goguryeo soldiers in Hanseong?” The person murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d say to Kun in a time like this, knowing what everyone’s been through and all.”

Jeno’s head suddenly hangs, as the words from the conversation penetrate and resound around his head, “You don’t need to mince words. Just, you know, tell them how you feel… talk about what you’ve been up to, or what you’ve seen. Isn’t that good enough?”

“Jeno…” For a brief moment, the stranger looks unsettled by the suggestion. However, he takes a deep breath and continues, “But I was never one of the Hwarang. I just happened to be around when the newer group was established.”

“Then why did you paint them as Furies?” Jeno frowns, “If they didn’t matter to you anymore, then you wouldn’t go through the trouble of drawing that? It’s not like it’d make you any money.”

“Well…” The other stops.

“So, are you absolutely sure there’s nothing you’d want to say to the Commander, Colonel or Jaemin? You’re positive?” Jeno lists off the names of the Hwarang, only making you question the stranger yourself. Is he a friend of theirs? Perhaps Jeno had met with him to bring him to your side?

Whatever the case, the stranger’s countenance gives the impression that he’s reluctant to be involved at all.

As you’re thinking of this person, a voice speaks up behind you, “You should go and talk to Yongqin while you can.”

Kun. You hadn’t heard the door open, much less his footsteps approach.

“S- Sure,” you say quickly, spinning on your heels and walking into the house from the darkness.

After making smalltalk for a while, Kun rejoins you and begins to say his farewell to him, “We’ll see you later, Li. Don’t trouble Namekawa too much.”

“I never do,” Yongqin shakes his head, “The man just worries too much.”

“Forever the smartass,” Kun rolls his eyes jokingly, “Whatever the case, we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Leaving already?” Yongqin asks, eyebrows raised.

“Goodnight, Yongqin. Please take care of yourself.” You say with a small smile and begin to turn to leave.

“Hey,” Yongqin calls out to you, “Can I have a word?” He beckons you over with a gentle gesture so you walk to him.

“Is something the matter?”

“I know he won’t admit it, but Kun looks like shit. Are things at the front going bad?”

If you speak too carelessly you can give away information– information that can easily hurt Yongqin, so you fall silent.

“Here’s the thing: I don’t like that man at all, and quite frankly, I can’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him. But… I want you to be by his side. If he goes down, then the Hwarang go down with him.”

“I understand…” you murmur out before Kun butts in.

“Are we done here? Time to get going.”

He doesn’t ask a thing about your conversation as he begins walking briskly ahead of you on the darkened streets. Watching him make that promise of bringing Taeil the next time he’d see Yongqin… it seems as though that burden of promise, and the potential of it being left unfulfilled, weighs heavily on him.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks.

“You should go on ahead and go home.”

“Huh?” You pause yourself, “What do you mean? What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m going to speak to the Goguryeo forces in Hanseong,” he turns to face you, “And I’m going to personally ask them to release Taeil.”

“You’re going now?!” You sputter, “I thought you said they can’t be reasoned with?”

“If we can’t get results, then I can’t say we’ve done everything we could.”

“It’s not safe for you to go there! They could capture you at any moment!” Frantic energy runs in your voice, “If they take you like they did Taeil…”

Yesterday this idea would have been preposterous to Kun, what happened to mak him change his mind?

“So you’re telling me to my face that this decision is a mistake?”

“No… No I’m not saying that.”

“Then what is it?” He snaps, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Stay strong.” You raise your voice, nearly shocking yourself, “You of all people know what needs to be done.”

“I decide on what I do. It’s not your place to say.”

“I understand, but what will you do if you’re arrested by the Goguryeo army?”

“So what if I am?” He frowns, crossing his arms, “Sitting here and talking about ‘what-ifs’ isn’t any better than taking action.

“So you’re going to let Minhyung and Jisung’s sacrifices go in vain?!”

“What do you know?!” He explodes, and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back.

“E- Even I can understand a little!” You refuse to let your convictions amount to nothing. With a heavy heart you continue, “I was there when they gave their lives for… I saw it with my own eyes. Both of them loved the Hwarang. And they trusted their commander! If either of them saw what I am now, it would crush them.”

“Crush them, huh?” At last, he seems to let go of a bit of the tension in his shoulders. They relax slightly as he looks off into the distance. “Do you believe it to be the survivor’s duty to carry on the will of the deceased?”

“I think so.”At least that’s what it feels as if you’re doing now. The reason you can’t back down, even if Kun feels compelled to yell at you, is because you know Jisung and Minhyung would have done the same.

“Damn, guess this means all I have to look forward to in life is shouldering more burdens until I die.”

“Kun…”

He shakes his head and gives you a short, melancholic smile, “Sorry for yelling at you. You were right. You did know. There’s no point in me being irrational when our situation is already grim, huh? It wouldn;t look too great if there’s nowhere for the Chief to go when he gets out eventually.”

With that last statement, you see that he’s finally regained his composure, and you respond in kind by calming down, “I know I told you to stay strong, but please, don’t push yourself too hard. I noticed you’ve been running around during both day and night time.”

“Where do you have all this time to show concern for every person you meet?” Kun sighs out, “Once we leave here, if you so much as collapse on the way out, I’m leaving your ass behind. Brace yourself.”

“Okay!”

You’re happy to have gotten through to him, even if it was just a courteous gesture. He begins walking again and you run right behind him, doing your best to keep up with the swiftness of his pace.

At the entrance of the city, you regroup with Jeno and Shotaro, the two greeting you quickly.

“Commander, I need to speak with you urgently,” Jeno says, looking frigid as he approaches Kun. “Please let me petition for the clemency of both the Chief and Sungchan! Surely the Goguryeo forces understand what killing Moon would detail. If we work hard, I’m sure we can find people to cooperate with us. So please–”

Kun stares at Jeno, who’s bowed over in a sign of respect, and seems to take his suggestion into consideration.

“...You beat me to it. I was going to say the same thing.”

“Commander! Then–”

“Osaki, I have a favor to ask you. Take her and head to Kyeju first.”

“What?!” You gasp out.

“We’re going to continue our fight for Taeil’s freedom. Your presence here is only a burden for us right now.” Earlier he’d given you the same instruction, albeit with a far more aggressive tone. But this time you can tell thoughtful consideration went into it.

You’re worried, of course. But there isn’t anything more you can argue.

“This is an order from your commander. We’ll meet up again soon so get out of here and stay sharp.”

It felt strange to part from them, as if some piece of yourself is now missing– but you don’t have much time to harp on it as you meet up with other troops in Kyeju.

You’re worried about what’s to become of Taeil, but perhaps because the situation seems grim, no one has brought it up.

May 1st, 666 – Outside of Kyeju, Kingdom of Silla Kun soon rejoined Shotaro and you as you resided in Kyeju, only after he’d settled his affairs for Taeil’s freedom in Ungjin first. Yuta had taken the main body of Hwarang soldiers to Koksan and then onto Bakjak to keep an eye on the Fury Corps. You have just left the small town with Wen Junhui’s men to hop onto the route to follow after him.

After a while, you manage to meet up with some allied soldiers, but many of them look at you with a strange mixture of curiosity and fear. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

“Those are the Hwarang, right? The murderers?”

“Yeah, noble dogs that kill men for no reason– even their comrades! Best not to look at them for too long. You never know what might set them off.”

It isn’t difficult to hear the gossip that floats through the ranks.

“They sound like a bunch of old wives spinning those stories!” Shotaro scoffs, turning to look at Kun, “Want me to keep them quiet for you?”

“No.” Kun shakes his head, sounding more irritated than usual, “They want to talk, let them talk.”

“Are you alright?” You ask as you walk along, “You don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine.” He says but he clearly seems otherwise. His skin is a pale color, almost blue, and he looks exhausted. Marching during the day is hardly a pleasant walk for a Fury.

Taeil is clearly at the forefront of his mind. And although you hate to admit it, he has a good reason to be on edge.

“Excuse me, could you let me pass? Ah– apologies, oops…” Someone moves towards you from the back of the column of men, pushing his way through the rest of the marching soldiers.

“Hello,” a man, no older than Kun, steps forward and offers a bow, “Are you Qian Kun? I’ve heard a great deal about you and the Hwarang.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kun asks, puzzled.

“Pardon my rudeness, I’m still not fully functional with the language– my name is Wen Junhui, one of the commanders of the Tang forces. I’m sure I’ll be talking with the Hwarang a great deal in the future. It’s nice to meet you.”

It’s strange, for the man who claimed to command the infantry of men, he looks more like the son of a wealthy merchant than a soldier.

Kun snorts under his breath and turns away, leaving Junhui to look on for a moment longer.

“Do you have business with Kun?” Shotaro asks.

“Ah, yes. I was hoping to hear stories about the Seorabeol attacks from the Commander of the Hwarang himself.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather hear some ridiculous rumor from a drunk soldier?” Kun bites, “Seems like everybody here loves to gossip.”

“I apologize for them. We’ve been far from home for a while and they’ve only grown more undisciplined as time progressed.” Junhui shakes his head to continue his original plan, “At any rate, I came here to give you an overview of how our forces are being deployed. We have five thousand soldiers in the advance guard, main body and rear guard. As the highest ranking officer–”

“Wen Junhui… The Wen Junhui who took back Hanseong a few months back?”

“That’s me,” he smiles.

“And you lost it.”

“Yes, well… I suppose I did. It was a misstep of my forces and I take full responsibility for it. But I assure you that we will be taking it back, and keeping it this time.”

Kun looks as if he’s just swallowed something rotten. He’d only just lost his Chief and it seems as if this newcomer’s trying to force himself into Taeil’s place. No one, no matter the skill, can replace his friend. Still, Junhui seems to have been expecting to be rebuffed, and continues, showing no sign of being put off by Kun's behavior.

“The advance guard is made up mostly of men from the Silla army. The rear guard, however, is composed of men from Tang. I’m thinking of promoting you to Deputy Commander in order to lead the advance guard. What do you say?”

“Why?”

“I have experience leading my men. And am I wrong to think that the advance guard would take more kindly to a fellow countryman than an outsider?” Junhui speaks plainly, “Besides, there isn’t anyone on our side or theirs who hasn’t heard the name Qian Kun. I can’t think of anyone better suited.” His copious praise does nothing to thaw Kun, they just stare at each other for a few awkward moments.

It’s painfully clear that the two of them don’t see eye to eye, and it cannot be a worse first impression.

“Well,” Junhui claps his hands together, “I suppose I better be on my way. We’ll talk later, and go over some more in-depth plans.” Their conversation ends as one-sided as it had begun, and the Tang general disappears into the swarm of marching soldiers.

Later that night, your group camps a short distance away from the rest of the force. Kun, sitting by the fire’s edge, beckons you and Shotaro over, “We need to talk.” The main bulk of the Hwarang forces are with Yuta heading even more northward, meaning that the only people in the camp were you, Shotaro, Kun and three dozen more Hwarang. “Remember what Junhui told us earlier?”

“About taking command of the advance guard?” Shotaro inquires, “What of it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want you guys to do. You can’t be in the advance guard, so I’ll have to send you off to fight with the main body or the rear guard.”

“So this means you’re going to take his offer?” Shotaro shifts as he speaks.

“Yes. You were in Seorabeol. You’d be a good commander for men who’ve never seen a real battle.”

“But…” A frown carves itself on the younger’s lips. Kun’s reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. It feels as if Shotaro had grown attached to the idea of fighting in the same unit as Kun. Perhaps the commander is insensitive for either ignoring this sentiment, or not acknowledging it at all.

Shotaro sighs, resigning himself into a period of deep thought, looking up to Kun’s gaze, “Understood. Whatever you order me to do, I’ll do it. But first, I want you to tell me something. This doesn’t mean you’re planning to disband the Hwarang, does it? If I fight in this, it’ll be as a member of the Hwarang.”

It seems the two of you feel the same way. Kun’s hope may be flickering but yours isn’t.

“Fine. Whatever.” Kun seems disengaged.

“I should also point out that I think commanding soldiers is a little more than she can handle.” Shotaro adds, glancing over to you, “She doesn’t belong on the front line. She’s a page, not a soldier.” He rises to his feet, dusting the dirt from his knees, “Anyways, I’ll go and tell the others what you’ve decided.”

Kun and you are left alone with the crackling fire as Shotaro jogs back to the main encampment. He sighs and his shoulders drop. Suddenly he looks very, very tired.

“Why did you try to order us away?” The question leaves you before you can think it through.

He doesn’t answer, only tilts his head to look at the flecks of starlight dappling through the trees above. As the melancholy silence speaks, you nearly regret asking the question before he laments, “If I knew Taeil was coming back, then I could go out there ready to give my life to win. Just like Minhyung said– Taeil and I were the Hwarang. With him gone, there’s no way in hell I can carry all this on my own.”

When he normally speaks to you, he is oft cruel and rude, you’ve never heard him sound so defeated before.

“Yukhei was right, wasn’t he? Remember what he said when we decided to attack Hanseong? He said there was no way in hell Kim Yong would fund us without some sort of hidden agenda.” Kun huffs, “He was right. So was Jaehyun… You know who was the first to petition for a settlement between Goguryeo and our forces? Kim Yong.”

“...What?”

“He wanted to showcase our defeat as costly and an expenditure of life and resources. Make it abysmally clear that the war is funded on blood, and to keep his own money in his coiffers.” He laughs despondently and kicks at a rock by his foot, “Damn it, how couldn’t I see that coming? If I thought about it, that would’ve never slipped past me. I was desperate for Taeil to be off fighting big important battles, winning all sorts of glory… But I let it all blind me, we were played and Taeil lost his spirit…”

The Hwarang had put their lives on the line for the Kingdom. How could the King just let them be pawned around?

“Noble or commoner– we all busted our asses to get where we are. Aren’t warriors meant to be the masters of the battlefield? What the hell have we been fighting for this entire time? Is anything I believed in still true? We believed that we were fighting for something, so no matter the shit we had to crawl through, we did it. Turns out it was just a trench that just circles itself. What are we supposed to do now? What the hell am I supposed to believe in?”

Every word of his punctures you with pain. But the kingdom had betrayed them, their trust. The war had changed and it feels as if the Hwarang had been tossed aside. All that the Hwarang had done is fade away, what could Kun do to fix it?

“You lost what you believed in,” you say quietly, “They think as long as you’re there to lead, they’ll be fine and refuse to show fear in front of you. They want you to see the kind of men they are, which means they’ll fight to the death if you tell them to.” If anything, you want to soothe his wounded soul a bit. “But if someone were to ask why I’m here… I’d say it’s because I believe in you.”

Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say, all you’ve done is give him something more to worry about.

Kun looks at you, but for once the light in his eyes is soft, “You’re right. If you lose sight of something the only person who can find it again is you. Besides, we’ve got a big fight coming up. Guess I should be thinking about how we’re going to win that, not whining about my problems.” With a small smile, he turns back to the stars.

You fall silent again, cicadas fluttering and chirping through the night being the only cacophony of sounds around you.

“Are you really going to stick around?” He asks. You know he wants to go alone, but you can’t go with Shotaro, you both know that.

“Yes, I am.” Perhaps you don’t know how you can help him just yet, but you can hardly leave him alone.

“Fine. Just stay out of my way.”

“I know.” You sit there in the silence of night, you’re just about to return to your tent when he groans out in pain. Almost immediately you know what’s happening, your fears confirmed when his hair begins to turn white at the roots. Quickly you scramble to your feet, urging him to his and leading him to the shadow of a large tree where the nearby soldiers won’t be able to see him.

“Damn it,” he curses through clenched teeth, “Why now?!”

With shaking hands you reach for your collar, and as he grasps your intent he grimaces. Kun takes a hold of your shoulders and roughly pulls you toward him, seconds later you feel a dull sting on the back of your neck and then the hot trickle of blood.

His warm breath comes in pants across your bare skin, but after a time his ragged gasps for deliverance begin to steady. And slowly, his grip loosens. Then, without a word, he pulls away from you.

“How long do you plan to keep letting me do this?” He mutters, as you turn to him, worry in his eyes.

“Forever,” you say simply, “As long as you need me, I’ll be here.”

“You’re a stupid woman,” he sighs, “And I’m a man who’s lost sight of what makes him human. How can you just let me cut you open like that and drink your blood? What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s alright, Kun. I really don’t mind.”

There’s nothing for him to say to that.

The next day, along the route to Hanseong, the news breaks.

“So, Goguryeo forces are pulling out of Hanseong?” Wen Junhui frowns, “That’s… unexpected.” He and Kun stop to talk over the news and their next move.

“Unexpected? They’re cocky bastards that think we won’t try to retake the city.” Kun scoffs, “It’s the most opportune moment to take it back.”

“I’m not against going into battle,” Junhui states, “We are leading an army, after all. But the main body and the rear guard are still on their way. All I’m asking is that you wait until they catch up with us. Attempting to lay siege to the city with the men we have is folly beyond folly. We should–”

Kun sighs, “This isn’t a theoretical scenario from one of your war manuals.”

“Sun Tzu isn’t just a war manual. The highest form of generalship is balking enemy plans; the next best in preventing enemy junctions,” Junhui argues, standing his ground, “After that, it’s attacking armies in the field, and the worst of all is besieging walled cities. Therefore, we should only lay siege as a last resort. Attacking head-on is foolish. If you’re determined to be foolish, the best you can do is make sure your army is in the best condition possible and–”

“Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays! No kingdom benefits from prolonged warfare!” Kun offers his rebuttal, “Remember that one? He’s saying that it might get messy, but it’s better to end your battles quickly. Taking your sweet time just comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Qian… Don’t do that.” Wen Junhui’s brow furrows, “I’m not asking you to wait long. They should be here in just a few days.”

“And we’re just meant to sit here twiddling our thumbs until the Goguryeo army shows up?” Kun frowns, “If they catch us unaware then we’re screwed, no two ways about it.” He must sense that he caught a nerve in the other as he pushes ahead, “You want to miss this opportunity, fine. I’ll just take the advance guard and capture Hanseong myself.”

“That’s suicide!” Junhui shouts as Kun snorts derisively. He clearly has no intention of taking his opinion.

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll take Hanseong by tomorrow.” His lips pull back from his teeth in a feral grin, and he looks off in the distance toward Hanseong.

He isn’t being belligerent. He’s being reckless. With Kun like this, can you really win?

April 13th 666 - Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo Hanseong is in turmoil. Your forces neared three thousand, while Hanseong’s barely had a thousand. And although the Silla forces easily outnumber your opponents, the guards are able to use their fortifications to great effect, fighting you to a standstill. Arrows fly, swords clash, and men scream in pain.

“We can’t keep this up,” Kun sighs out with crossed arms, “This is as good a time as any to attack the enemy lines.”

“Attack?” You look toward him in disbelief, as a nearby soldier cries out, “Their fortifications–”

“Can fall.” Kun says flatly, “An arrow or two won’t kill you.” The men around him are stunned into silence, never having imagined they would receive orders like this. Their commander, however, just stares back coldly. “What the hell did you come here to do? You’re here to fight a war. If you’re prepared to fight, you should be prepared to die. Am I wrong? So, when I give the word, you’re going to charge that line!”

The men before him pale, and many tremble. Eventually, one of them snaps, “I can’t do it! I don’t want to die here.”

No sooner had he turned to run, does Kun’s sword flash in the daylight, striking the soldier dead. The men watching swallow thickly. For a few moments they stay utterly silent. Commotion breaks out shortly afterward.

“What is this?!”

“Is he crazy?!”

Kun lets his cold eyes slide slowly across their ranks, and slowly the mumbling ceases, “Anyone else want to run? If you’re too scared to fight, go ahead. Be my guest. But anyone who runs will die by my hand. So either I kill you… Or you take your chance out there. Up to you.” With one final scowl, he turns back to the battlefield, taking off across it.

He runs through the throng of bodies and hail of arrows, falling upon the men defending the main gate like a vengeful god. His sword drips with fresh blood, you stay in the shadows of the treeline waiting for him to return.

Shotaro runs to the commander, grime and blood smeared across his face, “With another push we should be able to take the gate!”

“Great!” Kun shouts, “I believe in you Osaki!”

As Kun effortlessly slices through the enemy, the mood among his men begins to change. A ripple goes through them, a surge of newfound energy to fight. You can’t hear him from the distance, but he shouts something over his shoulder and his soldiers fight with intense vigor.

And soon after the sun passes its zenith, the city gates open, the news of it spreading like wildfire.

The Silla forces sweep into the city soon after, finding relative ease when liberating the streets. Kun glances at you with a grin as Shotaro runs up to him.

“Commander! The men we sent to the town head’s home ran into trouble!”

“What?” Kun almost sounds confused, “We haven’t seen any real resistance so far.”

Shotaro shakes his head, “I’m unaware of the details. Should I go see…?”

“No. I’ll go.” Kun stops him, “I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What would you like me to do?” You ask.

“Come with me,” he says simply, “Don’t want you wandering around. Might get hit by a stray arrow or something.

And thus it was decided. You quickly follow after Kun, and even upon approaching the building, you can tell something is wrong. Inside, your men are dead on the floor, their bodies laid out like the spokes of a wheel, and at its hub… Lee Donghyuck.

“What are you doing here?” Kun asks, more nonchalant than you’d have thought. “Decided you’d take a vacation? You do know there’s a war out there, right? Or maybe you’re just hiding out here, hoping you won’t get hurt.”

“We were acting under orders from the King.” Xiao Dejun, whom you hadn’t seen upon your arrival, speaks out, “We are here to deliver a secret message. We did not expect to be drawn into battle and we certainly did not expect to encounter you here.”

“Huh,” Kun scoffs, “Gaesomun yells jamp and you leap. You sure are dedicated.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Qian…” Donghyuck leers with a snide grin.

“And I didn’t think you were so anxious to get your ass beat again. Don’t worry though, I’m happy to oblige.”

Donghyuck grinds his teeth and draws his sword at his hip, “Killing you will erase the humiliation I suffered at your hands. You and your dogs have been a thorn in my side since Wonweol. Today, I will have my revenge.”

“... Sounds as if you’ve got this covered,” Dejun sighs, stepping back once more, “He’s all yours.”

Kun just as easily draws his sword, “Guess the face wasn’t enough, maybe if I take an arm you’ll get the message.” He soars across the room at Donghyuck, their blades rattling against one another as Donghyuck block’s the commander’s strike. Then, the demon pushes back and Kun is thrown across the hall.

“You’re not getting away,” Donghyuck says coolly, his hair turning stark white, just as Kun’s had done at the beginning of the battle. In the blink of an eye, he leaps after his opponent, whipping his sword in a quick slash. Kun brings up his blade at the last second before the strike could wound him.

“You’re slow,” Donghyuck taunts, “Your movements lack finesse. Don’t tell me that killing humans has tired you out? Last time you said you were a Demon…” Their blades locked together, Kun’s begins to shake under the pressure of the other’s force.

Donghyuck’s right, though, Even with his Fury abilities, Kun is slower than before, too unfocused.

“Ah, I see,” the Demon’s eyes flicker to the open door for a moment, “The sun’s still out. You don’t like it much, do you?” He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re weak. After all, a warrior always gives all he can, no matter the situation. That is your code, isn’t it?”

“Damn you!” Kun jumps backwards, but not fast enough to escape Donghyuck’s blade. It arcs down across the Hwarang’s chest, blood erupting from the gash and splattering to the floor. Kun drops to his knees, skidding across the hard wooden panels panting heavily as blood blooms across his robes and pools on the floor below him.

Agonizing seconds pass as both you and he wait for the blood to stop, yet it continues to fall through his fingers clenched to the robes hanging from the wound. “What the hell is this?!” Kun asks through clenched teeth as he stares daggers at Donghyuck standing before him.

Donghyuck laughs, almost as if Kun had told him a joke, “What’s the matter? Not healing like you should? This,” his wrist flicks upward to show off his blade, which almost looks to be faintly glowing, “is Hwangun’s Blade. It’s been passed down through my family for generations, but… no one had ever thought to test it on a Demon. This is an excellent chance to see what it can do. And you know what? I can use it to put down a fake Demon.”

He smirks, giving the impression that he’s figured this victory is a foregone conclusion.

“You must be pretty desperate if you’re willing to grab your family’s magic sword. Really need something like that to take on a fake Demon?” Kun gives his own taunting laugh, but Donghyuck’s grin doesn’t falter.

“You humiliated me for the first time in my life. Nothing is too much if it will send you to hell.” With another flick of his wrist, Donghyuck sends droplets of gore spraying down onto the floor, “Your abilities can’t heal any wounds from this blade. You became a Fury to defeat me, but now that sacrifice means nothing.”

“So, tell me if I’ve got this right. All I have to do is avoid getting cut by that thing? Hell, before I became a Fury, all I did was dodge swords. This’ll be easy.”

“Does your impudence know no bounds?” The Demon scoffs, “Fine. I’ll put your short lived defiance to the test.” His blade shimmers a blue-white and seems to shiver with his murderous intent. The air is thick, feeling like a struggle to just breathe.

Donghyuck slashes downwards toward Kun, who’s able to dodge out of the way in time, bringing up his own sword to strike back. But when it arcs upward, instead of hitting flesh, Kun’s sword cuts through air. In tandem with the strikes, Donghyuck moves too fast for the bare eye to see, Kun’s margin for error becoming slimmer and slimmer. With another dodge, the Demon slams his riposte into the Hwarang’s shoulder. Kun’s robe is torn away, displaying a fresh wound.

“Good… You’re overthinking on how you might kill me,” Donghyuck smirks, “But I want to see more. I want to see your face when you realize that you can’t kill me and that I will win!”

Blood pours from him, but Kun brings up his sword to catch Hwangun. Teeth clenched, you know that he’s lost far too much blood to carry on for much longer. Donghyuck kicks Kun back and as he does, the commander’s hair returns to its natural hue.

“What the hell?!” Kun cries out, still in a defensive stance.

“Reached your limit, I see,” the Demon chortles, inching closer, “Even a false Demon is better than this pathetic existence! You might as well be an insect.” His laugh echoes through the hall, gloating over the near unconscious Kun, “I want to hear you cry! Scream! Beg me for your life! You and your filth have stood in my way for too long. I’ll kill you and the Hwarang!”

Kun’s head twitches, “Kill…the Hwarang? You?” It’s almost as if he’s keeping himself upright with sheer force of will at this point. “After we left Taeil and the Hwarang fell to me, I felt like there was no way I could do all that by myself. I was just about ready to give it up.” Suddenly, the hair on his head shifts back to its demonic white, “...But now, when you say you want to erase everything we did… I’ll be goddamned if I let you destroy the Hwarang!”

Ichor continues to fall from him and you know that if he’s to continue like this he’ll most certainly die.

“Kun, no!” You cry out, “If you don’t stop you’re going to die!”

His eyes flick to you and you can already see the resolution in his gaze, then he gives you a grin before looking back to Donghyuck, “You really think I care about how much of my future I’ve gotta burn to get this bastard? I can’t let him kill me here. I can’t let this bastard and his damn sword get the best of me now!”

Relaxed now, Donghyuck speaks once more, “You’re practically dead already. What do you intend to do? This charade is pathetic.” Almost lazily, he swings his sword again.

Kun cries out in pain, not having the strength to lift his sword entirely to block the blow. Then Donghyuck’s sword slams into his right shoulder. Kun’s clothes are soaked in blood, his skin the color of parchment.

“I hoped you might be entertaining, but I suppose it’s time for me to say goodbye now. Shame you don’t have enough energy to talk. I miss that dry wit,” Donghyuck sighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t hold your sword anymore? Where’s that warrior spirit?”

Even though he struggles to draw breath, Kun musters what little strength he has left to reach for his sword. The point of the blade tips and weaves in the air as blood pours from his body, but he stands. Donghyuck lifts his sword slick with the commander’s blood, and smiles.

“At last! I can kill you with my own hands and erase the humiliation you gave me!”

Before he can land another blow, the building shakes as an ear splitting crash barrels through somewhere on the estate. Smoke rapidly fills the room, making it hard to see.

“What is this?!” Donghyuck spits, distractedly turning from Kun to find the root of the interruption.

“Fire! Fire!” Cries scream out from deep in the building, and you can ascertain that one of the trebuchets aligning the fortified walls had been turned against the city for some reason or another in a last act of defense.

The fire from the lit fodder spreads quickly, roaring around the room and licking at the sides of the hall. Black smoke pours into the room, irritating your eyes and throat. Even as the room plunges into a near unbearable heat, the two men don’t lower their swords.

It’s only when the ceiling begins to give way does Donghyuck remark, “Damn it, this place is falling apart.” Not wanting to endanger himself, he shoves his sword back into its scabbard angrily, glaring across the smoldering wreckage at Kun. “I’ll let you go this time. We’ll finish this duel another day. And you will die.”

He disappears shortly thereafter and you run to Kun, “Are you alright?!”

Waxen skin and face writhing in pain, he doesn’t respond as he drops to the floor. And as he does, the near forgotten Dejun walks toward you from his corner, unbothered by the flames around him.

“The Demon clans no longer intend to involve themselves in your governmental squabbles.”

“Why?” Kun asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

“We owed favors to Goguryeo. We feel those have now been repaid.” Dejun shrugs, “Besides, even you must know that they will soon fall, regardless of the efforts of my kin.”

You spot a bitter smile creeping along Kun’s lips, “... Yeah.”

“And I suppose you intend to watch that ship sink?” Dejun asks, “Silla never gave your Hwarang the recognition it so desired, and pawned you off when they had nothing to lose. Why do you still fight?” The truth of his words drive a knife into Kun’s heart, and you see his face fall.

“We’re knights of the Crown, we fight for them no matter what, right?” Kun says with ragged breaths, “What I’m fighting for now isn’t Hanseong or Pyongyang, or any of those bastards that call themselves ministers. What I– no– What we’re fighting for is the bond in our hearts. The bond that we joined the Hwarang with.”

His hand clenches to his chest and he lets out a small ‘fuck’ before continuing, “It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but… I’d feel like a real asshole if I died before Taeil came back.”

Dejun closed his eyes while Kun spoke, he now stands silent, “If Donghyuck chooses to involve himself with either of you again, he will have betrayed the moral code that binds all of our kind. He will no longer have the support of the clans. He will be on his own.” He looks to the building around him, “I imagine this will be of little concern to him, but I ask you to hear his mind when he next tries you, he is not doing so at the behest of the Demon clans. He is, I fear, your problem now.”

Then, he turns and disappears. As you look to where he once stood, you hear Kun thud to the floor, collapsing from relief or exhaustion, you cannot tell. But, he’s fallen unconscious, and if you cannot escape soon, you’ll burn to death.

“Hello?! Are you here?!” A figure bursts into the hall, shrouded in smoke but with a voice you recognize.

Shotaro had come to the rescue in your most dire hour. He quickly helps you lift Kun so you can shoulder the weight of his body together as you leave the estate.

Hanseong, the town Kun had fought tooth and nail to overtake, only remained in Silla custody for a few days. As an army of Goguryeo soldiers came within the following week to recapture the city, leaving your commander’s mission for naught. After the battle, Wen Junhui’s army, along with the remaining Hwarang, set off to Koksan. Kun had somehow miraculously survived, but by no means has he recovered. For days he drifts in and out of consciousness, settling in at a small residence in Kyeju for him to recover.

April 20th, 666 - Kyeju, Kingdom of Silla Since you’d arrived in Kyeju, you’d buisied yourself with taking care of Kun. As a Fury, most normal means of healing and medicine have little to no effect on him. So, most of your nursing consists of fervently hoping that his natural strength and tenacity would bring him through. Fortunately, your prayers begin to pay off and in time his wounds begin to heal.

Although those made by Donghyuck’s blade did not do so easily, or quickly. You find yourself thinking of the battle of Hanseong. After watching Kun, many of the reluctant soldiers came around to clash swords with the enemy. They had told him it was an honor to fight alongside the Hwarang, for they were true warriors.

You replay that fated battle several times over the course of your day, you’re just about to do it again as you open the door to Kun’s room, set to change his bandages. Yet, you don’t have the chance, as when you peer in, you see him sitting at his desk. He’s healed enough to move and speak without pain, but he’s still meant to be confined to his bed.

“You shouldn’t be up,” you say quickly, walking inside and shutting the door behind you, “When I said you were healthy enough to get up, I didn’t mean you were healthy enough to work!”

“It’ll be only a minute,” he murmurs, looking over a few papers before him, “I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish this.”

“You nearly died! You need rest!” You rush to him, setting the bandages down on the tabletop.

“Died?” He laughs once, dryly, “Me? Hah. That was nothing. Barely a scratch.”

“Barely a– Do you know how long I’ve been taking care of you?!”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Just a bit more reading, it’s all I ask.”

You sigh too, reaching for his blanket he’d strewn aside when he awoke. Moving to stand behind him, you drape it over his shoulders, “At least let me put this on you. You’re going to catch a chill.”

“Hm, I’m sure even if I said I don’t want it, you wouldn’t listen to me.”

“I’m glad you see how this works,” you say with a smile, “Now, as soon as that’s done, it’s straight back to bed.”

At last he turns to look at you, his face quirked in a small, bitter smile, “Alright, fine. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Huh?” You stare back at him intently.

“Guess I should be thanking you and Shotaro, huh? Well… I appreciate what you did. Thanks.” His thanks are rarely unaccompanied by cynicism, sarcasm or outright derision but this is different. Noticing your baffled expression he speaks again. “Something wrong? Did I say something funny?”

“Oh! No no no,” you quickly assure him, “It’s not that.” It’s more you’ve never seen him act so nice.

After that, you leave him to his work, checking back an hour later to make sure that he’s asleep and not working himself to the bone. Once doing so, you return to your quarters for another few, quiet hours, before a visitor arrives in the night.

“I thought I’d come and pay him a visit…” You hear the voice of Wen Junhui speak out as you approach the common area, you also note Shotaro standing next to him.

“He’s resting at the moment–” You begin, but stop when you hear movement behind you.

“Sir–!” Shotaro says, rushing to Kun’s side, “I’m glad to see you standing! For a while, I really wasn’t sure what was going to happen.” His eyes begin to tear up and he blinks rapidly to clear them.

“C’mon, don’t give me that,” Kun gives a short laugh, “You really think I’d die so easily?”

“I’m sorry sir, you’re right,” he rubs his hand across his face awkwardly, trying to brush away the tears that refuse to stop forming.

“Kun,” Junhui says solemnly, “I’m going to be honest with you. You fought like a Demon back in Hanseong, I’ll give you that. Morale is through the roof. The whole army won’t stop talking about you. But your actions were dangerous and idiotic,” the once calm demeanor of the general turns angered. “You are a commanding officer, not a soldier! You don’t belong on the front line!”

“General Wen, he’s only just recovered… Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh–” Shotaro tries to quell the other’s discontent.

��No! I’m going to give my piece, I won’t let him slide out of this one!” Junhui shouts, “Listen to me, Qian Kun. Combining our men isn’t just about new clothes and new titles, we have to change about how we think about war. We have to learn new tactics. The commander charging at the front of the army does not show that we are improving our strategy!”

Flustered at this point, Junhui struggles hard to keep his composure, “If the soldiers are the hands and feet, then their commanding officer is the head. Without a head, the body is a useless mess! This war will be lost if we succumb to our own pride!”

Kun’s eyes go wide. The words similarly mirror one of the last things that Minhyung had said to him. Keeping his head on so that the body can move forward…

“Minhyung’s ghost back to haunt me,” Kun sighs out with a weighted smile, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Is something funny?” Junhui frowns, “This is serious! Don’t you understand how worried I was about you? Hell, how worried the whole army was about you?!”

For a few moments, Kun simply stares at him.

“Say what you want!” Junhui stands his ground, albeit a bit taken aback at the commander’s attitude, “It won’t change my mind!”

“You’re right, Wen. Sorry for worrying you.” He follows his surprisingly genuine apology with a similarly surprising bow.

Junhui has clearly prepared himself for a variety of reactions from Kun, but this had been none of them. For several moments he stands there, too flabbergasted to speak.

“My apologies to you too, Shotaro. I hear you helped carry me all the way here.”

“Oh no!” Shotaro shakes his head, “No, it was nothing. Anything for you, sir.”

June 19th, 666 – Koksan, Kingdom of Silla Summer blooms from the remnants of spring in full fury. Rumors and news about the intense fighting floats in and out of the town, and you grow uneasy thinking about the loss of lives on each side. In the subsequent weeks following Wen Junhui’s visit, he’s once again able to take Hanseong and keep a steady hand over keeping it in Silla's grasp. And although he hasn’t completely healed, Kun has decided to leave Kyeju as soon as he is well enough to march with Junhui who’s now stationed in Koksan.

The way there seems longer than you'd ever thought possible. At last, you’d caught up with the main body of the Hwarang.

Yuta’s at the door to greet you the moment you arrive at the estate.

“Commander,” Yuta says with a small smile, “I’m grateful to see you alive.”

“Glad to see you’re alright too, I hear you’ve been doing well.”

Although Yuta looks relieved to be reunited with Kun, he frowns and rubs his hand to his forehead. Perhaps fatigue from the battles occurring is beginning to get to him.

Kun looks past him to the people standing behind him, “Jeno, Sungchan, nice to see you’re still around. Was starting to get worried about you two.” Despite their commander’s voiced appreciations, both wear glum expressions.

It’s Sungchan who begins to shake before breaking down into tears, his voice quivering violently, “You entrusted me with Chief’s safety, b-but– I wasn’t strong enough! I couldn’t protect him!”

Although hearing his words, you cannot get yourself to grasp their meaning. For him to be this distraught can only mean one thing.

“We have been told that at the end of last month that Taeil was… beheaded in Pyongyang.” Yuta steps in after Sungchan fails to compose himself, being ushered aside and consoled by Jeno.

‘Beheaded.’ You swallow at the word. Taeil had been killed like a common criminal, and you know it would have been pure humiliation for him.

“Hm, didn’t even let him kill himself,” it almost seems as if Kun had expected this. His voice is controlled and unsurprised, but within his eyes you can see a bottomless, yawning despair.

“It’s my fault he died!” Sungchan exclaims, “Please commander, I deserve to die as well!”

“I as well!” Jeno adds, “I begged you to let me fight for his freedom, but I– I wasn’t successful! I’m a failure!”

“You idiots! Look around you,” Kun frowns, “There’s no goodman way we have a single Hwarang left to spare! If you’re so prepared for death, then don’t give me your cheap words. Prove yourselves on the battlefield!”

The two fall silent after a quick, “Yes sir.”

Later that night, both Taeyong and Jaemin come to visit Kun.

As members of the Fury Corp, they had been resting when you’d arrived earlier in the day.

“Your arrival has the men in something of an uproar,” Taeyong muses, “It woke me somewhat earlier than usual.”

“I heard you got hurt pretty bad, Commander. Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon,” Jaemin says, almost scanning for wounds on the elder.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on my ass once I heard there were battles happening all over the place,” Kun says, sounding calm and relaxed. You know that isn’t how he’s feeling on the inside though. If you have been feeling depressed since learning of Taeil’s passing, you cannot begin to comprehend how he must be feeling.

“We should be on our way then, our work begins at night, after all,” Taeyong notes and begins to head for the door. Jaemin nods and heads after him before Kun speaks up.

“Jaemin, do you think you can tell Yuta to come by?”

“Huh?” Jaemin looks back, “Uh, sure… I’ll go and get him now.” Before he leaves he says one more thing to Kun, “I know you only just got here. But you should really rest tonight.”

With both of them gone, the room falls into an awkward silence. Kun hasn’t told you to leave, but it seems unlikely that he’ll start talking to you either. Just as you’re about to break the quiet, Yuta opens the door and steps inside.

“I heard you had business with me. Can I help you?”

Without even waiting for him to settle in, Kun says, “From now on, I’ll be commanding from the front line.”

A strangled gulp treks down your throat as he says this out of almost nowhere. If he were to fight on the front line, the violence would be intense and he still hadn’t fully healed.

“Do you intend to die in battle?” Yuta asks simply.

“No,” Kun shakes his head, “I won’t go out that easily. You’ve been out there. Only right for me to take that burden off you, right?”

His presence would raise morale among the men but if he died, the Hwarang dies with him.

“You raise an excellent point, sir. If you mean to take my place, however,” the air grows thick as Yuta’s hand falls to his sword, “I must ask you to defeat me first. If you cannot best me, then only death awaits you on the front lines.”

“Getting a little full of yourself without me, huh?” Kun’s lips turn upward into a grin as his sword slides from its scabbard.

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” You cry out as Yuta’s blade is also released, the blade glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

“Stay out of this!” Kun says and locks eyes with Yuta. Seconds linger as they remain unmoving, just then they leap towards one another, swords struggling against one another. After a bit, Kun is thrown backwards to sprawl across the floorboards.

“What?!” He looks surprised. Even only partially healed, he still has far greater strength than a human, and he isn’t the type to go easy on a friend.

“This war is not so easy that you might rush to the front line without your full strength,” Yuta says and as you look back at him your eyes grow wide.

“Yuta…” With his now reddened eyes and white hair, there’s no doubt that he’s a Fury. “You drank the pimul?”

“Don’t worry about me, I made my own decision.” The simple fact that he’s decided this path says more about the battles he’s been fighting than words ever can. Yuta looks to Kun, who’s rising to his feet, “I understand why you wish to fight, that is why I cannot allow you to.” He straightens himself and sheaths his sword, his hair returning to normal. “Perhaps you might be able to forget your pain in the midst of battle, but I cannot afford to let you do that. You cannot be permitted to turn a blind eye to our problems.”

Kun slowly puts his sword away, “Because I’m the Chief now?”

“Because you’re the only one who can unify the Hwarang.” After hearing that, Kun sighs, only allowing Yuta to continue. “Leave the front line to us. You, Kun, should remain here and plan our strategies.”

“Fine. The front line’s yours until my wounds heal.”

An honest, “Thank you” leaves Yuta, and then he turns to you. “I’m leaving him in your care. Don’t let him out of your sight until he’s healthy again.”

You nod and give him what you hope to be a reassuring smile. He inclines his head to you, turns to Kun to give a short bow, then leaves. As soon as the door closes, Kun’s face darkens and his brows draw together.

“Damn it… He’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t trust me and thinks I need you as a babysitter.”

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” you try to justify Yuta’s actions.

Kun gives a bitter laugh, then stops suddenly. He gulps out a noise and clutches his stomach in pain, his body and hands shaking as his hair and eyes begin to change color. With the bloodlust taking hold, he begins to groan out in pain.

“This way,” you quickly take his arm and lead him to a room off of the main hall. In the open, anyone is privy to catch him.

As he settles in the room, you set out towards him, and he has a look in his eyes as if he already knows what your next move is. You tug at your collar, loosening it like you’d done before. He leans toward you and you feel a sharp prick on your neck, you stay as still as you can as he bites down onto you. His hot breath panting along your neck, drinking slowly as he begins to calm.

Eventually, he pulls back. There’s pain on his face but not from the bloodlust.

“This can’t go on forever…” His face turns upward into a half sour smile, “You. Me. This war. Everything…”

“Kun?” His eyes are distant and he doesn’t seem to hear you. You can’t describe it but something feels strange, wrong, even.

September 6th, 666 – Koksan, Kingdom of Silla By the time Kun’s injuries heal, it’s early autumn. Battles still rage along the fronts, and Silla inches nearer and nearer towards its goal. Kun hasn’t received any orders of late, but you feel that that’s about to change when you hear Shotaro storming down the hallway.

You’re settled in the main room with Kun, Taeyong, Jaemin, Jeno and Sungchan when the doors burst open, Shotaro shouting, “I have news from Wen Junhui! He says were to launch an offensive against Pyongyang.”

“Pyongyang? That’s the capital….” Jeno says seriously, glancing towards Kun.

In other words, this may be the push to finally close in on Goguryeo.

“What now then?” Sungchan looks to Kun as well.

“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible. No doubt Junhui has some elaborate plan to route out their forces.” You haven’t seen Kun this excited in a while, and the others in the room pick up on his energy.

“Our ships have already been sent to Ongjin, they will be able to converge on Pyongyang once the situation up north has settled.”

“Then I should go to Ongjin first,” Taeyong says, “We should establish a stronghold for when the main body of men arrives.”

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have our representative be someone from the Fury Corps?” You postulate to the group.

“My father’s family is from Ongjin, you know.” Taeyong says quietly, “I have a few connections there. I feel I am most suited to lead the advance guard. There’s… Something else that’s been bothering me as well.”

“Bothering you?” You question but all he does in response is nod and smile.

“Taeyong… you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?” Jaemin interrupts, “Seems like that might be an issue.”

“A minor detail,” he waves it off, “easily dealt with.”

“In that case, he’s probably the best choice,” Shotaro murmurs.

“No,” Kun disagrees, “The Fury Corps isn’t cut out for that. You still can’t stand up during the day.”

“It’s difficult, certainly, but not impossible.” Taeyong argues, “I don’t see any reason to just follow behind the rest of the army, and I’d be glad to push myself for this.”

You don’t doubt his ability to do that, but you do question the validity of his motives.

“There’s… a bit more to his message,” Shotaro says after Kun and Taeyong have been staring at each other for a moment. “Junhui will be leading his men to Tagok Pass in hopes of stalling the Goguryeo reinforcements. I believe he means to buy time so that our allies can sack the city without interference. But…”

“The pass is on the front line right now,” Jaemin drums his fingers along the hilt of his sword. “I understand what he’s trying to do, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be.”

“That’s a good point,” Jeno sighs, “The enemy’s getting desperate, and we don’t know what else they’ve got up their sleeves.”

“If we want Junhui to come back alive, we need to send some reinforcements to go along with him,” Kun ascertains.

“I disagree.” Taeyong frowns. “If we are to win in Pyongyang, we must arrive there at full strength.”

“Are you saying we should abandon Junhui then?” Yuta asks.

“Well, if both of our forces are wiped out by Goguryeo, there is hardly any point at all.”

The men all shoot glances at one another, formulating their own thoughts and responses before Yuta speaks once more, “I will remain with Wen. Without their aid in previous battles none of us would be here. I will go to Tagok Pass. Kun, please take the rest of the men to Ongjin.”

“Yuta, you–” Kun’s eyes grow wide.

“Then I’ll go and prepare to depart.” Before giving Kun a chance to respond, Taeyong stands quickly and leaves the room.

Jaemin doesn’t seem particularly happy about the way things have gone either, and after a moment of furious thought, he stands as well, “I guess I’ll go with him. Don’t really want to let him out of my sight, you know.”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “That’s probably smart.”

“Be careful, Jaemin,” you say as he walks past you. He gives you a small smile and a wink, then dashes out the door after Taeyong.

“Osaki,” Kun looks at the man still at the door, “I need you to go and tell Junhui what we’ve decided.”

“Understood,” Shotaro says quickly, “I’ll be off as soon as I can.”

Once he leaves, Yuta turns to Kun. Whether or not he was waiting for the room to be cleared, you’re unsure.

“Please survive. No matter what happens.”

“What’s the matter?” His brow furrows as he looks to the other, “That came from nowhere.”

“In the Hwarang, you and Taeil upheld the path of a true warrior.” Even when slanted by their own kingdom, they had never compromised what they stand for. “Our standard of truth is a banner for everyone who fights. We lead the way.”

Yuta and Kun look at one another silently, before Yuta continues. “As the man who made the Hwarang into what it has become, it must be your duty to carry that standard. Every Hwarang before you and after is relying on that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Kun replies with his thin lipped grin. “I’ll promise you this though, I’ll stick around until the Hwarang’s dead, or I am.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Yuta smiles, eventually turning to you, “I leave Kun in your care.”

The words are few but hold great emotion behind them, “We’ll be fine. I’m sure of it… After all, I don’t think he could die even if someone killed him. I’ve seen him on the verge of death many times, but he always pulls through. So,” your jaw locks and you look directly into Yuta’s eyes, “Please don’t die, Yuta.”

The battle at Tagok Pass is sure to be an intense one. Many lives, you’re sure, are going to be lost.

“I won’t die even if I get killed?” Kun’s eyebrow piques, “That’s quite a statement. If you’ve got time to worry about me, maybe you oughta be worrying about yourself too, Yuta.” He’d said it as a joke but there’s no mistaking his underlying sincerity.

“I won’t die easily either. After all, I will be fighting in the name of the Hwarang.” Yuta says calmly and then addresses you, “Thank you for your kind gesture.”

And so, you accompany Kun to Ongjin. He’s still gravely concerned about Yuta, thus he’d ordered Shotaro to remain alongside him at Tagok Pass. LEaving them both turns out to be much more difficult than you’d imagined. All you can do is pray that they survive, and that you will meet again someday.

December 1st, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla As winter takes hold, the cold wind blows down on the main body of the Hwarang as they arrive in Ongjin. The trip had been impeded by several small snowstorms, but now upon your arrival a new problem is encountered: Taeyong and the Fury Corps were nowhere to be found. Jaemin, too, had been unheard from.

From the townspeople in Ongjin, you hear disturbing rumors that murder has been on the rise in recent weeks.

Upon reaching the regional minister’s house, you’re met with a man who splits a grin as soon as he sees Kun. “Long time no see, Qian. How are you?”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Xu.”

Later on, you learn that this man is Xu Minghao, the Tang navy’s second-in-command. When the Yamoto forces had fired upon Sabi some years earlier, Minghao had been in command of the Tang ships that aided the Silla forces on land. While Kun hadn’t been at the battle, he was able to speak with and befriend the man when he visited Seorabeol some weeks later.

“Have you already heard about Taeil?” Minghao frowns,as Kun nods. “I apologize for having been unable to help. Your kingdom has truly lost a great man.”

“He would’ve been happy to hear you say that,” Kun says with a bitter smile, “But he wouldn’t want us to stand around crying about him. He’d want us to get to work. Can you give me a rundown of what we’re working with?”

“Unfortunately I don’t have the greatest news,” Minghao says, “While we’ve secured the city, there is something… wrong occurring. I have requested a meeting with the newly implemented officials but I haven’t received any form of response. To top it off, there’s a suspicious group of men running around Ongjin. Well, there are rumors, at least.”

“Suspicious how?”

“Well murders have increased, and a few rumors report the assailiants running back to the minister’s home.”

Suspicious men running around, possibly murdering civilians… Taeyong and the Fury Corps unreachable… It isn’t hard to put two and two together.

Kun and you lock eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing.

“If this continues we may become sidetracked here from our main goal,” Minghao states, “Perhaps if we could arrest these murders and restore peace in this area…”

“Minghao, think you could leave the murders to me?” The other man opens his mouth to protest, but something in Kun’s gaze makes him change his mind and he nods.

“Alright, I’ll leave this one to you. No more questions from me.”

Once Minghao returns to his men, you turn to Kun, “Do you think it’s Taeyong…?”

“Can’t say,” Kun sighs out breathily, “You heard the same things I did. No way to know for sure but if it is… I’ll have to kill him.”

“Kun…”

“He got pretty freaked out when he heard about where a Fury's power comes from. Might be he’s pretty depressed right now. Maybe crazy.” He shakes his head and looks to the minister’s house, “Strange things are afoot in Ongjin. We can’t be careless.”

December 2nd, 666 - Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla The next day, Kun begins his investigation. Despite your attempts to convince him that he still needs rest, not the stress of a murder investigation, he presses on. And so, that is how you find yourself lounging around the rooms the Hwarang are occupying while Kun goes off on rounds with the rest of the men.

You’re engrossed in reading over some medical papers Namekawa had left you with when you receive an unexpected visitor.

“Where were you this whole time?!” The papers drop from your grasp as Na Jaemin steps into the room, “We couldn’t contact you, we were all so worried…”

“Do you know where Kun is?” He doesn’t answer your question, but rather jumps straight to the chase.

“He’s off doing rounds at the minister’s estate…”

“Ah,” Jaemin looks a bit crestfallen, “Can you give him a message for me? I can tell you everything since we got here. Just make sure you pass it on to him.”

You gulp, waiting for him to open up. “The minister isn’t being cooperative. Chances are they're being pressured by the enemy somehow. At least that's what Taeyong thinks. So, we looked around a little more and while we were doing that we found out that Heo is actually here.”

“What?!” You cry out at the unexpected revelation. Your father had been forced to do research on the Furies by the revivalists before the war broke out, or at least that's what you thought.

“Yeah… and… he seems to be leading a unit of Furies for the Goguryeo forces.” Jaemin frowns, “Well we figured we could just let that slide so we started watching their Furies, you know, where they go and stuff and well… I saw Taeyong meeting with Heo.”

Jaemin explains that Taeyong told him they'd be more likely to get spotted if they moved together and went off on his own. This is pretty peculiar on its own but sometime after they split up Jaemin witnessed Taeyong meeting with your father.

“I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what Taeyong is thinking.”

“It doesn’t mean that Taeyong is connected with Goguryeo, does it?” Your brow furrows.

“If that were the case then there wouldn't be a need for him to lie to me though, right?” Jaemin says frustratedly, “Doesn't act like he's got any plans to contact the rest of the Hwarang. I just didn't know what to do…”

You’re not sure what else to say and just before you open your mouth you hear a commotion happening at the entrance of the building. The door to your room is kicked open and several strange men suddenly leap inside.

“Who the hell are they–?! Shit!” Jaemin shouts as they unsheathe their swords and lunge after him. He dodges the attack easily drawing his own sword as he moves. He strikes out at one of the men before he has a chance to recover. The man laughs and the spot where Jaemin had struck him is beginning to heal immediately. Suddenly, the man's eyes begin to grow a deep crimson you understand what you're up against.

“Furies…!”

“Get behind me!” Jaemin reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you backwards.

“Now, there’s no need for that,” a new voice says from the entrance. You feel your eyelids footer incredulously after hearing a man's voice. It's familiar… nostalgically so.

“Father?!” You’re frozen in place as Jaemin continues to fight the Furies.

“What the hell!? Who are these guys! It's broad daylight! How are they moving swiftly?!”Although he's Clearly they're superior regards to swordsmanship, he's outnumbered and the daylight had weakened him. He's slow and his strikes are unsure.

Your father maintains his cool composure, and he mutters under his breath as he observes the events, “Aren't they wonderful? Furies no longer restrained by the cycles of day and night.”

“You…” You stare at him, mouth agape, “You did this?”

“Of course, my child. I am unsure if the news has reached you yet but I was captured by the Goguryeo Army, and in this captivity I continued to research the pimul.”

“Father– you need to stop them!” You look to your friend fighting, “At this rate he’ll–”

Heo Jinsang’s eyes widen as if he’s only just remembered and he looks over to Jaemin with a smile. “Ah, yes. I don’t know how to thank you. Without you, it would have taken much longer to find my daughter.”

“You followed me?!” Jaemin spits through grit teeth.

Ignoring him, your father looks back to you and speaks with a soft voice, “I’ve come to get you. At last, we’ll be able to restore our clan.”

“Clan…? You mean the Heo family?”

“With these superior Furies, restoring the glory of our clan will be child’s play.” Heo laughs, “Once the kingdoms bear witness to the potential of these breakthroughs, they cannot ignore us! We can even wipe out the Demon clans who rejected our plea for help, avenging our kin!”

“You’re planning on using Furies to restore the Heo lineage to power?”

“Yes, I am. Everything I have done was for you.” His voice evokes the same tone he had used to speak to you when you were a child. You shake your head to combat it and his eyes narrow. With a few swift footfalls, he closes in, “You’ve been with the Hwarang for too long. They’ve corrupted you.”

No… It isn’t you who’s changed, it’s your father.

“Goddamn it! Get off me you bastards!” Despite being out of breath, Jaemin manages to swipe at the Furies with his sword, giving himself space. However, no matter the amount of wounds he’s able to inflict on them, they heal immediately.

“Father…”

“If we just sit down and talk this through, I’m sure you’d understand.” Your father’s face lies in a stony demeanor.

“I–!” Before you can say anything else, he drives his fist into your stomach. Stars leap before your eyes, the world grows dark and you slip into unconsciousness.

When you awake, you’re in an unfamiliar room.

“Where…” Your hands gripping your head as you sit up, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the minister’s estate.” A voice says before you and you widen your eyes.

“Taeyong?!” You cry out before noticing the figure next to him. Beside him stands your father.

“What’s going on here?” You say as you scramble to your feet. “Why are you two together?!”

“I met with Heo secretly here in Ongjin, and we’ve agreed to work together in order to do Fury research.” Taeyong explains, resting his arm on the hilt of his sword.

“Then… You’re working with Goguryeo? You’ve betrayed Silla… Betrayed the Hwarang…”

“Is that what you think?” Taeyong raises an eyebrow, “Interesting…” Explaining himself had never been one of Taeyong’s strong points.

“How are you feeling, my child?” Heo asks sympathetically, “I apologize for the rough treatment. I hope you aren’t too hurt.” His tone is intimate and caring, you feel yourself wavering towards the father you used to know.

“I suggest you make no attempts to escape…” Taeyong says calmly but with more intimidation than you’d seen from him before, “We could make that difficult. In any event, it was reckless of you to bring her here, Heo.” He glances at you before continuing, “Kun is no fool. Her disappearance will surely mean that he will be onto our plans. I expect him at any moment.”

“You told me that if I wanted to know where my daughter was, I just had to follow Na to the Hwarang.”

“Yes. I did.” Taeyong’s lips curve into a frown, “But I never suggested to kidnap her. Alas, what’s done is done. No point arguing about it. We need to be thinking about what this could mean, and plan for it.”

“I’m sure the Furies I left to deal with Na will return to the estate soon, you needn’t worry about the future.” Heo shrugs.

“What did you do to Jaemin?” Your voice nearly breaks.

“I doubt he survived. After all, I did bring quite a few of them.”

Your whole body shakes. You want wholeheartedly to not believe it, but the Furies that your father had brought were unlike any you’d ever seen before. Jaemin had already looked pale and weak even before he’d started fighting…

“You just have to assume I’m dead?” A voice says from the open doorway, “C’mon, that hurts my feelings…” He’s leaning against the frame and someone brushes past him, glaring at Taeyong and your father.

“You alright?” Kun asks as he looks at you.

“I am!” You nod vigorously and he lets out a snort of laughter.

“How did you find us?!” Heo asks incredulously, “I’ve made so many improvements on my Furies. How could you have destroyed them all?”

“Improvements? If you say so, but if you want to take out the Hwarang, you’ll need about ten times what you sent.” Kun smirks.

“I figured you’d be here soon,” Taeyong murmurs, “You didn’t bring any of the men, though… Well, I suspected you wouldn’t. Still, doesn’t it seem rather reckless for the two of you to charge headfirst into unknown enemy territory?”

“Explain.” Kun’s eyes narrow at Taeyong, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

“There’s nothing for you in Ongjin.” Taeyong says simply.

“I was given orders by Yeon Gaesomun to come here. They told me to take my Furies and kill the traitors who reside here. However, I found such a plan unagreeable when so many test subjects reside here…” Heo sighs out.

“We found common ground in our distaste for Goguryeo,” Taeyong explains, “and thusly decided to seize Ongjin for ourselves.”

“So you’re not fighting with our enemy…?” You struggle to piece together everything.

“I’m on your side, child. I have no intention of taking part in mankind’s disputes.” Your father says as he crosses his arms, “Let us bring retribution to the humans who destroyed our clan and the Demons who betrayed us. It is in our destiny to forge a new Demon kingdom with our own hands– no, we will be the only Demon clan!”

You recall Sooyoung explaining how the Heo village had been destroyed by humans. Even then, you can’t get yourself to agree with your father.

Just then, the sound of footsteps loudly resound out from the hallway. Furies pour into the room as Taeyong smiles, “Ah, they seem to have noticed our intruders.”

“Hey–!” Kun’s eyes widen as he notices their faces, “They’re the Hwarang’s–!”

“Not only does this castle hold the remnants of Goguryeo’s Fury army, but also of the Hwarang’s Fury Corps.” Taeyong crosses his arms, “All of the Furies that exist in both Kingdoms are gathered here.”

Red eyes surround Jaemin, Kun and you. No humanity resides in their gazes.

“Please give us your help,” Your father calls out to you, “We need you to lead us. You must command the Furies and restore the Heo clan.”

But you don’t care about restoring the clan. You don’t want to create more Furies so that blood can drive them mad. You don’t want to see more suffering.

“Father… you’re wrong.” Heo’s eyes go wide when you speak. “Building a kingdom on the corpses of others isn’t right! I can’t agree to it!”

Human or Demon, every life is precious. Just because your home village was destroyed doesn’t mean you can oppress humans.

“I believe Heo was saying that he’d be willing to assist the Hwarang.” Taeyong interjects, looking at Kun. “What do you think, Qian? Would you like to lead this army of Furies against Goguryeo?”

“You know the answer.” With Kun having been against Furies from the very beginning, you doubt he’s changed his mind about them.

“So I suppose that ends our negotiation.” Taeyong sighs, slowly drawing his sword from its scabbard. “Very well…”

You stiffen, yet Kun doesn’t move towards his own blade. He remains still, cooly contemplating Taeyong. Almost as if someone’s dumping white ink on it, Taeyong’s hair slowly changes to white and he raises his sword.

Instead of swiping at Kun though, he cuts down a Fury standing nearby him.

“All a Fury exists for is battle, and now we’ve taken that away from them…” Taeyong shakes his head with a sigh, “The least I can do for them is let them die here, in battle.”

The room falls silent. Then it explodes in noise– the enraged cries of the Furies and the rattle of swords being drawn.

“Jaemin–” Kun says quickly.

“I know!” The younger shouts and drops into a fighting stance, slipping his hand around the hilt of his sword. A grin splits on his lips as his hair turns white, “Taeyong, this is way too badass for an old guy like you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Well,” Taeyong chuckles, “as they say, to fool your enemies, you must first fool your friends.” Their swords whistle and spark through the air, Fury after Fury falling before them. “Besides, doesn’t the hero’s right-hand man make the best villain?”

Kun responds with a bark of wry laughter and draws his own sword in a flash of silver light as his hair turns white as well. The men get into their stances and face the Furies as Furies themselves.

“The hell are you talking about?” Kun says with a grin, “Still means the hero gets stuck cleaning up the damn mess.”

As their three swords spin and hiss through the air, blood gushes and spatters, painting the walls of the estate a deep red. Wave after wave conquered, they drown their foes in a sea of blood. You notice that your mouth has gone dry, your hands beginning to shake. In the corner, you spot your father sitting down.

“Everything you told me was a lie?” Heo asks Taeyong. “You said you wanted to do more research on the Furies in the kingdom of Demons… Why?”

“I saw the end.” Taeyong answers, “I was trying to discover a way for Furies to live past their… limits. Our short lifespans made me impatient. To continue my research I even dirtied my hands.” Every suspicious thing he had done had been in the service of a single goal: saving his fellow Furies. “We have no future as Furies. You know this as well as I do, Heo.”

“No matter how resistant you make them to sunlight, they will push themselves too hard, and their lifespans will shrink and the bloodlust will drive them mad.” Taeyong confirms the truth you’d all suspected: there is no way to save the Furies. “We are a mistake: a failed experiment. Furies are not something that should exist in this world. Let’s end this.”

Taeyong’s true intentions leave you surprised, as does his admission that the Furies are a failure. Is he right? Can they not be saved? Has all hope been lost? You let your mind drift for a moment, and then you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye– A Fury only feet from you, his eyes red and mad with bloodlust. You reach for your sword but it’s too late.

Before your hand even touches the hilt, you see the Fury’s blade sweeping toward you. Blood splashes down onto the floor before you, but it isn’t yours. A figure standing before you had taken the blow in your stead.

“Father?!”

The Fury pulls back for another swing but then it freezes, gurgles oddly and slides neatly in half, a blade glistening in the center.

“Turn your back on us in a fight, will you?” Kun spits as he looks down to the halved Fury, “Idiot.” He shifts his eyes up to your father’s wound, and you see his face twitch. Immediately, he moves closer and turns his back to the two of you, sword held at the ready.

“Are you… alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” Your father asks as he turns to look at you. There’s blood splattered all over his chest. The wound, now that you can see it, is undoubtedly a fatal one.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all,” you say quickly. His hand reaches out and grasps your shoulder, he falls to his knees and you follow after him. Quickly you lay him on his back, clutching at his hand.

“Our research was a… failure. I knew there was no future for the Furies…” He murmurs out as tears begin to well in your eyes, “But I couldn’t give it up… I wanted to bring back your clan, your family.” Ever since you were young he’d always tried to do what was best for you. “It seems my fate is to die with the Furies… I have committed terrible sins. This is for the best, please, don’t cry.”

You nod your head knowing that if you’re to open your mouth the tears would never stop. He gives you one last smile, sighs a calm breath and is gone.

After what seems like an eternity, you look up. The battle is over. The Furies that came to fruition by the Hwarang and your father lie dead, scattered around the room.

“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?” Taeyong says as he looks at the bodies, “That many Furies could have been awfully useful… The Hwarang could have used these men.”

“You don’t win battles by thinking you’ll lose them.” Kun says.

“Well, you don’t win by thinking you’ll win either,” Jaemin snorts with laughter, then coughs to cover it up.

It’s true, the Hwarang had lost a lot of Furies but their unity had grown stronger.

“Ack–!” A sudden burst of pain wipes the grin from Jaemin’s face. Taeyong, too, has doubled over in agony. Their hair which had returned to normal goes back to stark white.

“Looks like we’ve reached our limit,” Taeyong says through grit teeth.

Dejun’s words suddenly flash to you. The Fury’s power isn’t a gift from the gods. You’re only borrowing life that you would spend decades on.

Jaemin sees your eyes go wide and gives you an awkward sort of laugh, “We were some of the first Furies.” They’d been in more battles as Furies than anyone else, and all of the strength and healing they’d enjoyed ate away at their futures until there was nothing left.

“Did you know…?” The question leaves Kun as a whisper.

Taeyong smiles and then gives a slow nod, “What warrior doesn’t know his own body?” His legs suddenly shake violently and he falls to the floor, Jaemin soon following.

Kun drops to his knees and takes both of their hands in his own.

“Kun… Do you remember?” Taeyong remineces weakly, “Back when we were at Moon Hall, we would spend all night talking.”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “We would say that Taeil would never be content with being just the heir of a small school. We promised to do what we could for him…”

“Who would’ve thought he would leave this world before us?” Taeyong frowns and his voice grows quiet, “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but without you, we couldn’t have built up the Hwarang.”

“Same goes for you too…” Kun says with a small smile, “You were the one that always calmed me down whenever I’d start a fight with Yixing.” He’s doing his best to act tough so that Jaemin and Taeyong won’t worry.

“Looks like we’re taking the lead this time… Don’t be in too much of a hurry to catch up though, alright?” Jaemin adds in a bright and kind tone, “I mean, you barely had any time to rest since you joined the Hwarang.”

Kun just nods.

“I’m having a hard time buying that ‘yes’. You’re a little too short-tempered to keep a promise like that…”

“Shut it, you little brat. You really think I’m gonna take that crap from you?”

Jaemin’s face relaxes as Kun snarls back at him. Even in this moment, Jamein’s tender and kind for the benefit of his Chief.

“You must go south.” Taeyong suddenly says. “Heo said he used water from Tamna when he was refining the pimul.”

Your eyes widen– perhaps there still is hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance something south can repair the curse of the Fury to these men. Taeyong’s last words are the fait muster of hope for the fate of the Furies.

“Kun… Don’t… don’t lose sight of what matters, alright? Being reckless doesn’t work out so well.” Jaemin’s voice has grown rough and raspy. Kun’s knuckles whiten as they tighten around his comerade’s hands. But with a sound like sand pouring over a stone, their hands crumble into ash. In moments, they are no more.

“Kun…” You call out but he doesn’t answer. He only stares, silent, at the twin piles of ash that sit where his friends were only moments before. There aren’t any tears in his eyes, but even so he’s somehow crying.

You’re not sure how long you sit there before he stands up. The room that includes only you two is devastatingly quiet.

“Let’s go.” He says quietly, his voice curt and clipped. Yet, when he turns to you, his eyes suddenly go wide. “Hey, no crying.”

You nod, trying to stop, but it’s no good. The tears don’t pause, regardless of how much you wipe them away. In one day– an hour– you’ve been forced to say goodbye to Jaemin, to Taeyong… and the father you haven’t seen in over a year.

December 17th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla The events of the magistrate’s house resonate with you for a while, and after some time has passed you find yourself alone again, standing in front of the estate. Wisps of snowflakes fall around you, wind hitting your cheeks and chapping your lips.

“They sure took their sweet-ass time,” Kun quips as he exits the front gates of the building. His worn expression indicates a worried tiredness.

“Hello,” you greet him, “How was the meeting?”

“How? Hmph.” He shakes his head, “Those idiots north of Pyongyang don’t like any of the plans we’ve proposed, even with Junhui and I poking around as often as we are. Apparently with the incident here and continuing at Tagok, Munmu doesn’t trust us yet to act. That’s the bullshit they relayed! Can you believe that?”

Kun paces the front gate, arms crossed and breath puffing in the air, “They act all high and mighty on their capital in the north, but pussy out when it’s time for the final push. It’s pathetic, Munmu hasn’t done shit and is relying on the Tang for everything.” He frowns, “Whatever. Let’s head back to the inn, the sun’s really beating down today.”

“Okay…” A cloud of frustration seems to follow you as you return to the inn, most notably in Kun. “We’ll be there soon enough, hang in there.” His skin looks pale and watching him in silent agony makes your heart ache.

“Don’t worry about me,” he sighs, “How about you? Are you holding up alright?”

“I’m… fine. I mean, I’m pretty resilient.”

“How can you say that?” He lets out a dry laugh, “You stay up all night just to tend to me…”

“I’m tough.” You smile back, “When you finally fall asleep, it gives me the peace of mind so that I can rest easily too.”

Kun’s lips curl and he doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Instead, he just stares at you. He turns his head gradually to the hues of red and orange covering the winter sky in the distance. You follow his lead and look towards the horizon.

“Huh…?” Your vision suddenly blurs.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Kun’s right next to you, but yet his voice sounds so distant.

Before you know it, your body collapses to the ground.

“Hey!” Kun shouts out, “You alright?! Hang in there!”

When you regain consciousness, you discover yourself tucked snugly in bed.

“About time you woke up,” Kun says as you look around the room. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Ah! Kun…” Once you realize that it’s him, you snap out of your daze. “I’m sorry, I–”

“You idiot!” He shouts, causing you to jump. “If you weren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t have gone outside. You should’ve rested!”

“I’m sorry…” It feels as if a stone has dropped into the pit of your stomach as he scolds you, and you can only look down at your hands.

“Uhm, well… I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you,” Kun sighs. “You’ve barely had any chance to rest, especially after what happened with your father’s passing… I can’t really be surprised that you would push yourself to act like everything’s normal.”

But he’s lost people too, and if you’re suppressing how you’ve been feeling you can’t imagine the turmoil happening within him,

“Until further notice, you don’t have to join me when I meet with members of the war council. You’re going to stay here to rest.”

“What?” You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. Today was just a lot to handle. So, please… I’ll be careful. I won’t let this become a problem again in the future.”

“Why? Because Taeil, Minhyung and Jisung asked you to watch after me or something?” His head tilts, “None of the men who died for us would have wanted you to look after me at the expense of your own health.”

He does have a point. But that isn’t the only reason you’re still here.

“I… I want to be by your side, Kun.”

“Yeah?” His brow furrows, “Why’s that?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” I, um…” You can’t continue. Of course, you know the true answer but to admit that is a bit too much. There’s no way you can tell him your feelings. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Well, fine. Whatever,” he waves it off, flashing his usual sense of detachment, muttering to himself, “If you don’t want to tell me, I don’t care.” Caught up in his own thoughts, he mutters something shortly, “You were close with Namekawa, right?”

“I wasn’t close with him… My father was, though.” You admit, “However, he did watch after me frequently.”

“I see. He’s a good man, but I just can’t seem to put my full trust in him.”

“Okay…?” You can’t quite grasp the point Kun is trying to make.

“If anything happens while we’re out here, I want you to find him and stay with him.” Kun states, “Even if Goguryeo catches you, they won’t touch you as long as you’re with him.”

“What? Why would they–”

“Look. When you’re at war, you can’t just prepare for victory. Gotta consider your defeat as well.” Kun crosses his arms, “I’m sure Doctor Namekawa will show up here any day, so when that happens…” He falls silent. After a while, he shakes his head tenderly, “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just rambling.”

In the empty space of your conversation, you try to sift through what Kun’s trying to say. All you can do is pray that this brief, peaceful reprieve will prolong itself for a bit longer.

December 21th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla In the following days Minghao and Kun make another trip to the war council stationed in the minister’s home. Although they hope their audience with the officials will be fruitful, it turns out to be less than eventful.

“Yeah,” Minghao sighs, “It’s no use. The water’s going to be frozen over soon enough, I get that. But waiting until it thaws in the spring…”

“It’s idiotic,” Kun agrees. “Guess we should kick back and relax until then, huh?”

“Even if you’re joking it’s not funny.” Minghao frowns, “We’re only giving them more time to reinforce Pyongyang.”

“Sure,” Kun says, “But it’s not like they’ve got anyone else to come in and save them. They’ll be holed up in the city, waiting for a reprieve. If they’re smart they’d have surrendered by now.”

“Knowing Gaesomun, it’s not like he’ll have a shortage of ideas of how to turn this around. For fuck’s sake he killed their last king to wrest power from him. I suppose we’ll refrain from making any rash decisions until we reunite with Li.”

December 26th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla You find Kun in his apartments when you approach him, “I hear our forces are gathering in the north of the city… Are we leaving?”

“The Hwarang serves two things:” he sighs, “the King and the Kingdom. That hasn’t changed.”

“The Hwarang shows the way, right?” You point out.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, we had those lords and ministers looking down and judging our actions. Now look at us.” You can almost recall Taeil’s grin as Kun smiles.

“Well, that’s one more reason not to die, then.”

It’s a burden on him, undoubtedly, but Kun has seen many of his friends lay down their lives for the Hwarang and what it represents. Knowing what it had meant to them, he can’t allow himself to die.

“As long as the men believe in what we stand for, I can’t let the Hwarang die.” The doubt you’d seen in him weeks before is gone. He’s accepted his place at the head of the Hwarang. “I have to protect them.”

He looks over to you, his gaze warm, it makes you feel better than you have in a while. Just being next to him is enough to make you feel like everything is right in the world.

December 30th, 666 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla A few more days pass and the men you’d left to go to Tagok Pass finally reach Onjin. Unfortunately, bad news comes with their victory over the pass.

“Yuta has fallen in battle,” Shotaro reports, his head bowed, “His last words were ‘Leave the rest to Kun’...”

Ever since this war started, you’re unsure of how many times you’ve seen this expression on a warrior’s face. You bite your lip until it almost bleeds.

Kun puts his hands on Shotaro’s shoulders, giving him some words of encouragement, “I’m sorry I put you through that, Osaki. I’m just glad you made it back alive.”

Shotaro’s eyes grow wide and he looks overcome with emotion, “Th–Thank you sir!”

Jaemin and Taeyong lost their lives in Ongjin, and Yuta at Tagok… This means that Kun is the only Fury left among the Hwarang.

“It’s been hard already, but I’m pretty sure things are going to get worse,” Kun crosses his arms, “You’ve all fought enough, so…”

Shotaro sets his jaw and looks back at Kun, “I’ve given my life to the Hwarang, it just hasn’t been lost yet. We’ll follow you to the end of the world and back, sir.”

“Me too!” Jeno says firmly, “I’ll follow you all the way!”

“Let me accompany you, no matter where it takes us!” Sungchan adds.

“You guys…” Kun’s almost at a loss for words.

“We want to fight as the Hwarang, not as foot soldiers of Silla. We want to fight for the justice we believe in.” Shotaro smiles at him reassuringly.

You’re sure that if Taeil were alive, he’d be crying. The Hwarang united in body and mind. A great happiness wells within you and suddenly you can’t hold it in any longer. Tears spill forth from your eyes.

“... Idiots.” Kun’s face twists into a sneer, but there isn’t any hiding the warmth in his eyes as he looks out over the men. They know the coming battle will not be an easy one, but there is no doubt in their mind: their place is with Kun and the Hwarang.

January 7th, 667 – Ongjin, Kingdom of Silla Ultimately, it is decided that Minghao’s fleet will head to Cholsan while Li’s army will march to Yangdeok. In the cold of winter, you leave Ongjin and head into the surrounding forest.

You’re only a few minutes walk in when Kun stops you, “I can’t take you this time. You stay here.”

“What?” You stop in your tracks, “But why? Where is this coming from?”

“There’s going to be a lot of fighting. You should get away from that. No reason for you to stick with us anymore, right? I know Taeil, Jisung and Minhyung asked you to take care of me. But I’m sure you’ve fulfilled your promise in full. If you were to die in the mess of this war, then I’ll be the one that gets scolded by them in the afterlife.” His voice quiets, “I think it’s time you are released from us.”

“No!” Now that your father’s passed, there isn’t anything to justify staying with the Hwarang but… Your heart yearns to be with Kun.

“Donghyuck’ll probably be coming after me soon, but I can take him. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“That’s not it!” Once again you find yourself almost yelling. “I don’t want to stay just because I think I need to be protected from him!”

He sighs, looking as if he’s dealing with a fussy toddler. “Come on, don’t be like that… I can’t make you happy.”

Your eyes go wide, your voice shaking when you speak, “... I don’t need to be happy. All I want to do is fight alongside the Hwarang. I want to follow the same path you do.” There was never an ulterior motive for staying alongside him. “Please, I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“Well, I’m touched that you feel that way, but I want you to be happy. Without being with us.” He isn’t saying this to just make you feel better. You feel the sincerity behind his words. And you’re happy to know he cares, but it pains you just as much.

“These are orders from the Hwarang’s Chief.” He looks you in the eye, his voice flat and cold. “You would impede the function of the Hwarang, and therefore will not accompany us to Pyongyang.

The air is sucked from your lungs and your heart skips a beat. You feel the blood drain from your face and your hands begin to tremble.

“You’re a woman, and you deserve to have your own life. I can’t let us tie you down anymore.”

Hearing that, all of the power in your body leaves you, and you fall to your knees in the snow underfoot, “Kun… Please wait…” You want so badly to scream this at him, but your voice no longer feels like your own.

“Take care. That is all.” The minute he turns his back on you, you know it isn’t good. It’s clear that he really intends to leave you behind and you can’t even lift a finger to stop him.

He’s getting further and further away, his footsteps crunching in the snow. It was him who you’d been running after since the battle in Seorabeol… A man that, up to now, was working on chipping the distance between you, bit by bit.

“I don’t want this!” You scream out, forcing your voice to be heard. But Kun walks as if he doesn’t hear you. “Qian Kun!” Even calling out his name doesn't make him stop. And eventually, you can’t see his back anymore.

Minutes pass and you remain in a defeated stupor on the ground. It feels as if something inside of you has crumbled. You’ve been chasing after Kun this whole time… but he’s someone who only moves forward. His whole life was lived by keeping his pain sealed away, but never once did he leave you behind. He would always give you the chance to cling onto him.

Now you understand that there aren’t any more chances to gather yourself, or run after him, or any other childish endeavor to bring you closer. He has deemed no further use of you and severed the ties that burden his duty.

“Ah… Excuse me…” A quiet voice speaks up behind you, and you turn to see who it is. “I’m sorry but I heard everything,” Wen Junhui inches toward you, “I apologize for eavesdropping, but there didn’t seem to be a good moment for me to admit I was here.” He coughs awkwardly and hands you a small piece of cloth to wipe your face.

He waits for you to calm down before he begins to speak again, “You want to stay with him, I take it? Then… Will you wait for us? We’re settling down in Yangdeok before our attack on Pyongyang… So, can you wait until then?”

“What do you mean…?”

“Once we’ve settled in, I can send for you. I mean, I can hardly leave you crying here alone!”

“General Wen…” Your mouth hangs open.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Once you get to Yangdeok, I’ll assign you to Qian. It won’t be easy work, but at least you’ll be with him.”

February 14, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla You get your summons right after Yangdeok falls to Junhui’s forces. Yangdeok, to the Silla and Tang armies, has been seen as Goguryeo’s last city to topple before moving forth to Pyongyang to its west.

“It’s good to see you again!” Junhui calls out to you, waving his arms in the air to summon you closer.

“Thank you so much for arranging all of this,” You say as you gather your bags together and walk over to him, “And congratulations on your victory here.”

“My victory is a bit of an exaggeration,” he says, “Qian put in a lot of work too. As soon as we finished deciding on the new council, I sent for you.”

“The new council?”

“Yeah,” he nods enthusiastically, “With the effort going to close in soon, we decided to pull our forces together and combine the northern armies and southern armies to collapse on Pyongyang. Xu Minghao is our general now, he knows enough about the Silla and Tang armies to combine us together.”

You learn that Junhui has been elected the Army Minister, and Kun has been named the Assistant Army Minister.

“You had to wait a while, I understand.” Junhui frowns apologetically, “Was it too long?”

“It could have been shorter,” You say halfway joking and halfway serious.

Still, the fact that they’re this close to pushing inward says something to the end of this war. Despite the losses you’ve accrued, this is a glimmer of hope.

“Ever since we got to Yangdeok, Kun’s been… different.” Junhui notes your confused expression and continues, “He’s nicer to the men, which is good, but he spends too much time locked away in his room. Says he spends most of his time in deep thought and won’t let anyone come by.” He sighs, shaking his head, probably wondering what to do with the man before reaching into his pack and removing a piece of parchment. “I think he needs you,” a smile graces his lips and he hands the paper to you.

“Me?” You question, taking it from him.

“This document officially appoints you to your position. You can get the details after you give it to Kun.”

It takes a while, but you muster up the courage to go into the main hall of where the leaders of the army are staying. Yet, Kun isn’t among them, he’s in his room, alone. After inquiring about where his room is, you find yourself standing before it.

You take in a deep breath and rap your hand against the door several times. After a few silent seconds, a tired voice drifts out, “I’m not attending… This isn’t the time for a party.”

Without saying anything you push open the door. Kun turns toward the door, preparing a half-hearted tirade for whoever had decided to intrude on his solitude. When he sees you, the words freeze in his throat.

“Reporting as ordered, sir.” You say, standing straight, “I have been assigned to serve as Assistant Army Minister Qian Kun’s page… by Army Minister Wen Junhui.”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment, finally closing with a snap. He stares at you incredulously for several more seconds before frowning, “It’s a mistake. I haven’t been told about this.”

You pull out the letter that Junhui had given you and hand it to him, “I received these orders from him earlier.”

Kun’s hand snatches the letter and he scans the page rapidly, his frown deepening with each line. When he finishes he shoots you a sharp look and thrusts the letter back into your empty hands, “No. Take it back. I don’t approve of these orders.”

“I understand…” You sigh out, looking at the paper now in your grasp before tearing it into pieces.

“What are you doing?” His eyes widen in shock.

“I don’t care if you won’t approve these orders,” you let the pieces fall to the ground, “I shouldn’t have relied on them in the first place.” You hadn’t taken the letter because you wanted to be in Yangdeok, you accepted Junhui’s help and came here because you want to be with Kun. That’s all that matters. “I came here because I wanted to. I want you to let me stay. Here. With you.”

It’s his choice.

“Not fair for me to be the only guy with the luxury of a girl for a page. Especially when I’m sending men off to die.”

“Is… Is that why you left me?”

Kun falls silent and shifts uncomfortably.

“Stop this!” You find yourself yelling, and Kun looks equally surprised. “You always do this! You decide you can’t do something, then you make up all the excuses you need to justify it! You say you’re doing it for my feelings without even knowing my feelings!”

When he’d left you behind, he said that he couldn’t make you happy– that you should go on and live your life. But he is what makes you happy, and you want to live your life with him. Now he’s trying to push you away again so that he can bear this burden alone. You can’t let him do that.

“You take on so much and you won’t let anyone help!” Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you try and make him see the errors of his ways.

He crosses his arms, “That’s my job. If I can handle it, then it’s my responsibility to!”

“What about the people who have to watch you do this?!” You’d watched him torture himself this way for far too long… Every hardship, every burden, is his and his alone to suffer with. And you haven’t been the only one to witness this. “I can’t let you do this to yourself! I want to be here for you! I want to help you! What else am I supposed to do?!”

With a sigh he falls silent, “I give up.”

You blink, furrowing your brow as you have no idea what he’s referring to.

“Can’t fight a country girl… Better to just listen to them, I guess.” His voice is gentle as he looks up with a wry smile. You then find his arms wrapped around you. As unexpected as it is, you let yourself sink into his embrace. He holds you tightly, almost as if now that he finally has you, he doesn’t want to ever let you go.

“Ever since you left…” He murmurs before pausing, and you can sense him trying to organize his feelings. “I’ve figured some things out,” he squeezes you a bit tighter, “you… supported me. Guess that’s the best way to put it.” As he speaks, he sounds slightly bewildered, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying. “When you’re not here… It’s hard for me to deal with it. All of it. Life, I guess.” With each word, your heart swells warmly in your chest. Each word descends like the snowflakes outside, gently gathering in your heart.

“You saved me,” he whispers and you feel the warmth of his body touching every part of yours. You’re sure there’s tear stains on his uniform from where you’ve been pressing your face into his robes. “... Do you think the Hwarang still stands for what it means to be a true warrior? Have I done what I was supposed to? Have I led us down the right path?”

You nod, “The soul of the Hwarang that our friends believed in is alive in you. In fact, I think it’s stronger now… We’ve been through a lot but it’s brought all of us together.”

His lips curl into a smile, “Hearing you say that makes me happy. The men that the Hwarang have left are true warriors. No more need for the iron fist.”

Everyone in the Hwarang now has the unity of vision that brings the clarity of purpose, hopefully meaning Kun’s burden will lessen a little.

“Well,” you say, “from now on, please don’t try and hide your problems from me. I’m here to help you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

He’s silent now, but his arms stay wrapped around you. You feel his hands grasp at your robes as his voice is barely above a whisper, “Stay with me…”

February 15, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla The next morning, you’re greeted by familiar faces waiting for you in the main hall.

“Long time no see!” Jeno smiles, “We were eagerly awaiting your return for a while now.”

“Jeno, Sungchan…” You smile back at the two.

“How was the dramatic reunion?” Sungchan pushes eagerly.

“What do you mean?” Your eyes widen, unable to answer him with a straight face as his face blushes with color.

“Well, ever since Commander– er Chief– left your side, it looked like he just sank deeper and deeper into depression,” he says quickly, “It just made us realize how much he needs you by his side.”

“And now the two of you can be together as much as you want to be!” Jeno adds.

“Ah,” you feel heat rise to your cheeks, “Yes, well, I’m sure we can.”

“Oh?” You hear footsteps coming from down the hall, “I thought I heard a familiar voice. So, you’re in Yangdeok too…”

“Jungwoo!” Your eyes widen at the familiar face, “You’re safe!”

“Indeed,” he smiles weakly, “Sadly, I was injured in combat against some of the Goguryeo forces.”

“He was appointed as the Infantry Head of the Kyongjong Unit during the last meeting,” Sungchan says quickly.

“Really? That’s fantastic news! Congratulations, Jungwoo.”

“Thank you, but I don’t know how much I’ll be able to accomplish in this state, unfortunately.” You glance down to his bandaged left arm before looking back up to his face. “But for now, I am here, and all I can do is fight until the end beside Kun.”

“Jungwoo…”

“If there’s ever anything you need from me, don’t hesitate to ask. I will always support you and Kun.”

“Of course,” you smile at him, “Thank you.”

February 25th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla As Kun’s page, you spend every day assisting him in his duties. Since your arrival in Yangdeok, he’s seemed much more at ease during the daylight hours. Your job sees you spending more time around him than you ever had before. He’s actually begun treating you quite nicely.

You feel a little bad that you’re getting spoiled, but whenever you’re around him, your heart pounds.

On one afternoon, some days after you’ve settled in to Yangdeok, Junhui comse to visit Kun in his quarters.

“I’ve made tea,” you say as you set down the tray in front of the two sitting figures.

“Thank you,” Junhui smiles, gingerly picking up one of the cups before him and looking over to Kun, “Your assistant here is quite something. Tell me, where did you find her?”

“Well,” Kun leans back in his seat, “I think some big shot wannabe had her sent over here without my permission. You know anything about that?”

“Oh, I was doing it for your sake, you know. Although, I’m a bit jealous now” he sighs, “A cute, dedicated, efficient page… What man could ask anything more?”

“No, I’m… um….” You say quickly, frantically busying yourself with your tea.

Kun glances at you for a moment, then back at Junhui, his face calm and serene, “I agree… So long as she sticks with me, I don’t think I’ll ever need any other page.”

You nearly drop your tea at his statement. Junhui also looks surprised, but raises his cup to his lips to hide it.

You look for words to say but you can only hear the blood rushing to your head and feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“I, ah, didn’t think I’d hear something like that from you, Qian…” Junhui muses, “I’d want a wife like her too.”

“Well she’s mine.” Kun says simply, “You’ll have to find one of your own because there’s no way I’m letting her go.”

Junhui laughs, “Now you’re just rubbing it in.” You feel your face growing hotter by the second.”Well, with Kun in this sort of mood, I suppose I shouldn’t stay too long, hm?” With one last grin to you, he turns to Kun. “So, back to business… Do you think they’ll be mobilizing?”

“Yeah,” Kun nods, “As soon as the snow melts.”

“Well, if you think so too, then we should prepare to mobilize.” Junhui sighs, “Minghao says it will be a few more weeks before his ships can set out from Ongjin.”

“There’ll be a fight once they reach Pyongyang’s harbor, that’s for sure,” Kun nods, “There’s no way they’d let us take that easily.”

“Of course,” Junhui agrees, “We’ll need to reconvene to see what troops we can send to aid the navy.”

“Huh,” Kun muses, “Gotta admit, before we came here, I never thought you and I would see eye to eye.”

“I know, right?” The other smiles, “I was taken aback by you the first time we met.”

“And I was with you.”

Junhui laughs, “Well, I wasn’t born into a family of warriors…”

“Hey, me neither. My family were merchants from Tang before I was adopted.”

“Yet here we are, commanding respect as true warriors…” Junhui nearly marvels at the fact, “A man can only be judged by the path he walks, not the name he bears, nor the house from which he comes. We chose to fight for what we believe in. That path led us here. That’s all there is to it.”

Kun and Junhui are two very different people, but listening to his passion as he talks resonates with you as well. You were born into a family of Demons, but here you are. All your life, you thought you were human. Nothing more, nothing less. But the truth in this discovery gave you life beyond you thought you were, and they accepted you.

“Our ambition will never waver. We’ll fight to the end like we promised to.”

“Thank you for your time,” Junhui says, setting his cup down. He nods to you and Kun before standing and excusing himself from the room.

“They’re already going to fight?” You ask as you begin to clear the teacups.

“Come here,” Kun says, reaching out and taking your hand in his. He stands, gently pulling you towards the door outside. The wind is frigid, without your thick coat on it cuts you straight to the bone. “See that plain down there?” From the higher vantage you have, you see the rolling hills pour down into a sunken valley that spans as far as the eye can see.

“We’ll go down the plain and attack Pyongyang from there. Minghao’s ships will come from the west and attack by sea. And if all is communicated correctly, the forces up north will converge on the city at the same time as us.”

“Then we’ve got to make sure we plan all of that out correctly, right?” You ask, “Sending troops in waves would only give them time to prepare for the next one.”

“Yeah,” Kun smiles, “If we can take Ajinham before they can fortify it well enough I’m hopeful we can end this before summer hits. The battle in Pyongyang will be my last. It will be the last place I draw my sword as a warrior.”

“Kun…” You’re desperate to talk about anything else.

No sooner do you step back into the inviting warmth of his apartments does his expression suddenly shift. He lets out a grunt as you watch his Fury nature forcing itself to the fore. His hair shifts hue, his eyes turn red.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you weakly, “I’ve been doing pretty well since I got here. Looks like my body’s getting worse. Hope it’ll hold up until spring ends.” Does he mean that he’s ready to throw away his life so long as he lives to fight in one last battle?

“Please don’t say that,” you say, “Didn’t I tell you why I’m here?” Unfastening your collar, exposing the flesh of your neck, you step towards him, “Please don’t say you just want to live until spring. I need you to live longer than that. Much longer.”

“You’re a scary woman, you know that?” He smiles, although the pain twists it into a heart-wrenching grimace. His hands clasp your shoulders, and you feel his lips brush against your neck. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while,” Kun murmurs.

“You haven’t had any since you left?” His silence answers your question, “Why?”

You feel as if you know the answer, though. If he only cares about his body lasting until spring, then he likely hasn’t been taking care of it.

“I suppose my blood must taste awfully good,” you chuckle, “Because, you know, I’m a Demon. In fact, it must be so good that you don’t want to drink anyone else’s blood.”

He lets out a snort of surprise, “Well maybe you’re right…”

March 2nd, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla You find Kun at his desk, his eyes fixed on a stack of documents, and you muster a troubled smile at him. This has been a familiar scene for whenever you find him, as it seems his work ethic is the same as it ever had been.

Even if you are worried that he’ll start to find you obnoxious, you place his teacup beside him as he writes furiously onto a piece of parchment.

“The hell’s this?” He asks, not looking up from his work, “Don’t remember asking you for tea.” Kun scrunches his nose as he finally looks up to you as you flash him a bright grin. A sigh escapes him, “Don’t worry. I’m not tired. In fact, I’m starting to think I’m cut out for all this bureaucratic crap.”

“Well, it’s true that your duties here in your office are very important, but…” You hum, “It’s not like I can imagine a job or position that you wouldn’t be cut out for.”

“Of course you can. I hate public speaking, and even worse, I hate having to deal with emotional bullshit.” You suppose for him, a loathing profession never had gotten in the way of completing his duties. You’re certain that he has a knack for public speaking, let alone balancing the emotional stress that comes with managing a large group of soldiers. “So, it looks like I have to thank Minghao and Junhui for stomaching all of that shit so that I don’t have to.”

You chuckle at him, “Yes, but in return, you’re the one who’s in charge of managing all of the subordinates. Right?”

“Eh, win some, lose some. They’ve been calling me a Demon for so long, it’s kinda been throwing me off.” He shakes his head, “Hell, I don’t think you could pay me enough to bark at those idiots, or act like the Demon I used to.” His warm eyes glance toward you with an exceptional gleam, and it’s like he’s a completely different person from the man you met all those years ago in Seorabeol.

It’s true– Kun is no longer the Demon Commander and it seems like he’s discovered an inimitable truth: the practice of self-love is deeply fulfilling.

“What’s the matter?” His gaze narrows, “Do I have something on my face?”

“I was wondering when people started calling you a Demon.”

“I guess it’ll come up sooner or later… Don’t get too excited, it's not that interesting…”

March 19th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla Before Minghao’s fleet is launched from Ongjin, a group is splintered off from the main army in Yangdeok and sent to the navy to aid in their future attack on Pyongyang. Jeong Sungchan had volunteered to go and you received word on the thirteenth that the fleet had left port to set the offensive in motion.

On the night of the news’ arrival, Kun holds a meeting into the late, late hours of the night.

“Our meeting is over,” Shotaro says as he exits the meeting hall, looking to where you’ve been sitting patiently.

“Thank you for telling me, Shotaro,” you smile up at him. “I’m planning on bringing Kun something to eat, would you like anything?”

“Oh no, I’m quite alright.” He says glancing back to the room, “Although I think it best for you to hold off on your plans for now. I don’t want to worry you but Kun’s been in quite the foul mood after tonight’s meeting.”

For Shotaro to be in such a dour mood must mean that whatever they'd discussed in there must have been truly serious.

“It can’t be that bad, I’m used to being scolded…” You raise your head high and stand before his door. As you let yourself into his room, you see something that stops you dead in your tracks. Kun isn’t sitting in his usual spot. Instead, he’s sitting on the floor with an apprehensive expression. “I=I’m sorry. I, um, heard your meeting ended. If you’d like something to eat I can bring something up soon. What do you say?”

“Don’t want it. Not hungry.” He’s curt, and you can tell he’s irritable.

Although whatever was discussed in their meeting had been left in the meeting room, you can tell those heavy thoughts still swirl around his mind.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” You ask him.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you say that,” he sighs, “I seriously have nothing to ask of you. Sorry for taking things out on you.” Now he turns his head upward to look at you with a sad smile, “When we first men, it drove me mad thinking that you and I couldn’t relate to anything at all. But now that you’re here, I can truly say that it makes me happy to have you here with me. I mean it.”

“Kun…?”

“You’ve kept your eyes on me this whole time… Ever since we were in Seorabeol, in fact. If I think about it, you’re probably the person who’s seen me at my lowest.” He lets out a dry laugh, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Thanks to you, I can remember. The weight of my burden… The reason every one of our friends sacrificed themselves. If it’s something as simple as rushing straight in, I can just handle that kind of stuff myself. But having you here with me as someone to talk me through doing something stupid make me think twice. You’re my rock.”

He moves to his feet, walking over to the window cracked open to let cool air into the room, “Putting my life on the line isn’t something I have to think about, but it’s all about knowing the timing. You’ve helped me to come to this conclusion.”

“Then if my life’s purpose is to be there for you, then nothing could make me happier.”

Another laugh, “I’ve only caused you trouble. It’s too much of a burden to put on the shoulders of a woman like you.”

“I won’t let this bring me down… I’m your rock after all.”

“I see…” He hums, leaving the windowsill and slowly begins walking toward you. “I’ve changed my mind. I could use something to eat. Preferably your cooking.”

“Oh? Is there something in particular you’d like?”

“Surprise me,” he smiles, “Just make sure it’s good. Cook like the fate of the Hwarang is in your hands.” It’s as if the realization of your connection hits you suddenly, and you can’t help but grin madly.

With the threat of war looming on the horizon, you can sense that Kun’s mind will struggle to find itself at ease in the coming days. You take solace in knowing that you can give him just one moment of reprieve before whatever’s to come.

March 15th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla Several days later, the town begins to welcome springtime. As you all had long anticipated, Minghao’s ships make port in Cholsan but stay docked until given the word to advance on their enemy. Being a key member of these discussions of when to push forward, Kun is often pulled away from the Hwarang’s compound and Yangdeok in general, to a secret meeting place where it is believed all high ranking members of the Silla and Tang debate. You, on the other hand, have been ordered to remain in Yangdeok, the only thing you can do is wait patiently for his safe return.

The day that the men stoll back through the door is a happy one; Kun, Jeno and Shotaro stepping inside from the warmer day.

“I’m so glad to see you all safe…” You aren’t sure what catches hold of you, but as soon as you catch site of them, you feel your heart begin to swell and tears begin to prick at your eyes.

“Such a crybaby,” Kun chuckles, “You know, pretty soon you’re going to dry up from all the tears you’re losing.” Despite his words, he stands next to you with a warm greeting.

“Have you heard from Sungchan?” You look at Jeno, “I know the ships arrived in Cholsan a few days ago…”

Suddenly, everyone’s expressions drop.

Jeno furiously bites his lip, “We received word that the troop of men he went with to Cholsan were ambushed somewhere along their route… There haven’t been any reports of survivors.”

An altogether completely different emotion washes over you, the tears justifying themselves. This has been the first time since arriving in Yangdeok that you have to surrender yourselves to the news of another lost comrade, and your vision blurs for a moment.

“Sungchan had been dealing with the guilt of being unable to protect Taeil for quite some time… If I recall,” Shotaro closes his eyes, “it was his wish to greet the Chief with his head held proudly when he crossed over into the afterlife. Sungchan didn’t die a coward, so I believe that at the very least he accomplished that.”

Later that afternoon, as the sun begins to transition into red and orange hues, Kun summons you to his quarters. The light filters in on him as he sits at his desk, looking up at you as you enter.

“You’ve got time,” He says quietly, “Get as far away from here as you can. I can send you with a merchant’s caravan, I’ll get everything worked out. You don’t need to woot about a thing.”

You understand immediately what he’s trying to do. Kun knows the loss of war- does he not want you to get mixed into the crossfire?

“You can try and convince me all you want but I won’t budge… I want to stay. With you,” you say softly. Knowing everything he’s gone through, why would you leave him now? Besides, you’re sure if you hear of his passing in some far off, distant place, it would surely break you in two.

He lets out a breathy laugh that almost sounds more like a sigh of relief, “I figured you’d say that. You’re a real strange one.” You watch his eyes flick in miniscule directions as if he’s coming up with another plan.

“You’re worried about me, right?”

“Of course.” He says immediately.

“Well if you’re worried about me, then don’t let me out of your sight, okay? It’ll be your job to keep me safe.” You smile at him as his eyebrows raise in surprise. “And you can’t do that if you’re dead, can you? So, survive. To protect me.”

“Don’t worry too much about it,” he smiles at you, “I can’t let you die before I do.”

April 19th, 667 – Yangdeok, Kingdom of Silla By the first of the month, you get news that Goguryeo is expecting the assault on Pyongyang. They began reinforcing their walls and reports say that many of the cityfolk fled the city in a want to not get caught in the fighting.

Xu Minghao reunites with his fleet in Cholsan, Junhi leads the men who have been assigned to navigate Kangdong Pass to reach Pyongyang, while Kun has been assigned to the men at Haegok Pass. You accompany Kun where you wait for the enemy’s resistance.

Even though the snow has long since melted, the weather still gets quite cold at night. To rouse the men, Kun has brought several large jugs of yakju.

“The battle’s going to start soon,” he says as he pours the men cups of liquor, “I’ll be counting on you guys. We can’t afford to rest, unfortunately, but I figured you could have something to warm you up. I’d like to give you guys as much as you want, but we don’t know when those bastards are gonna show up.”

After he’s emptied the supply, you and he walk together back to his tent.

“Kun, are you alright?” You ask, rubbing at your nose so it doesn’t begin to run.

“What do you mean by that?” He turns to look at you, the empty jugs clinking together in his hands.

“You’re not drunk, are you?” You look at the aforementioned jugs.

“That’s it?” He laughs, “I had one cup, I can hold my liquor, promise.” The smile slips from his face and he looks off into the distance, “They’re almost like kids to me. Not much I can do for them personally on the battlefield, seems like a little yakju is the least I can give them.”

The two passes are the last line of Goguryeo defense before the city itself, this would be an important undertaking to take these points if the Silla-Tang plan is to go smoothly.

“I’m sure they understand,” you nod, setting down the jug you’re holding beside his tent.

“You always say what I want to hear,” he says softly, setting down his next to yours.

April 30th, 667 – Anjinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla With the warming weather, comes battle. Junhui and his men are routed at Kangdong, letting Kun’s forces push through with concerted effort towards the fortress at the mouth of Haegok Pass. Beyond these walls and field beyond is where the final battle will take place.

Everything has gone well, just as Kun had predicted all those weeks ago. Before the night ends, Kun requests your presence in his quarters.

“Are you going to be up for much longer?” He tilts his head as you approach, “You should sleep soon, there are long days ahead.”

“I know,” you have to try and stifle a yawn, “but… “ As the days press on toward the final assault on Pyongyang, days like this in relative closeness to Kun become more and more sparse. All you want is to cherish every moment with him while you still can, so you linger for a moment longer. Before you’re able to finish your thought, a visitor arrives.

“Chief, are you here?” The muffled voice of Jeno speaks out.

“Yeah, I am,” Kun responds, “Come in.” As Jeno enters you look to him, Kun questioning, “What’s the matter?”

“There’s something that just couldn’t wait, something I need to give you, Kun.” Jeno says, his hands fumbling with a rolled up scroll in his hands. He holds it out to Kun, “Here…”

When Kun realizes what he’s looking at, his eyes grow wide and he stares intently at it. “Did… Did Kunhang draw this? Why are you giving it to me?”

“When we were in Ungjin some time ago I went to see him…” Jeno confesses, “And that’s what I told him, I told him to show all of you where he’s been… To show you the life he’s led and experienced. And so, not long ago, he sent me this drawing. As soon as I saw it I thought it best to give it to you.”

“I’ll take this,” Kun says after a moment, solemnly smiling at him, “Thank you, Jeno.”

Without another word, the younger one turns with a bow and leaves the room. Kun gives a curt smile, exhaling as he plops back into his chair.

“What was that all about?” You ask, looking at Kun reviewing the drawing, “What is that?” The minute you see it, the vivid brushstrokes on the page evokes a small gasp and a feeling of magnificence from you. “A Fury…?”

Painted onto the scroll is the depiction of a Fury, complete with white hair and crimson eyes. Within those eyes, however, is none of the murderous rage you’ve come to expect in Furies. A peculiar kindness is imbued into them, “Who is this?”

“Well, this was the Chief of the Hwarang, but that hasn’t been in a long, long time.” Kun guffaws, “The bastard would get into skirmishes with merchants, nobles, and commoners. Then go partying in Noseo-dong when he was finished. His name was Zhang Yixing. When he was still kicking around, I don;t think I ever got a good night’s rest. Always had to get into some bullshit.”

Everything he describes to you about Yixing seems incongruent to the kind-looking image of the man on the page.

“Actually, funny to think about it now, but I remember spending every day thinking of ways to fuck with him. Then, he told me something… ‘If you want any chance of pushing Taeil to to the top, you need to become the ‘Demon’ you were born to be.’” Kun hums, “And I took his word for it, then I took his life when it seemed being a Fury was too much for him.”

“Pushing Taeil to the top…” You can’t begin to imagine bearing the responsibility of killing the man who was supposed to be your leader, and you realize how dire those straits must’ve been.

“I have a feeling that night Yixing knew, somehow, that I was going to take his life.” Kun’s eyes are locked with your own for a minute of dull silence before falling back to gaze on the drawing. “Strangely enough, the same look he gave me as I killed him is the one drawn here.”

“Huh?” The man you see on the page looks so warm and gentle, and in no way did you interpret his expression as belonging to someone expecting to meet their demise.

“You know, come to think of it, I could probably credit the bastard for giving me the kick in the ass needed to get my shit together.” Kun smirks, “If I let the Hwarang half-ass their way to power, who knows what kind of shit Yixing’ll have to say to me in the afterlife.”

When it comes to people who’ve made a considerable impression on Kun, Taeil is one of the first people to come to mind. Yet, it seems as if Kun holds a special place for Yixing as well, and you can hear the admiration.

“I don’t know what the hell fate’s trying to tell me,” his arms cross, “but he visited me in my dream last night.”

“What kind of dream was it?”

“Well, we weren’t speaking to one another,” Kun nods down to the painting, “But he seemed at peace, not too unlike how he looks on this… It was like his eyes were telling me to let go. Let go of the pain, the burden…”

May 8th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla As the men come in and out of the fortress, Kun is dead set on making sure everyone and all equipment is up to par for the days ahead. A certain group of incoming soldiers does catch him off guard–

“Hello, Chief!” Shotaro greets with a smile.

“Everything’s going to plan,” Jeno smiles as he bounds up alongside him, “We’ll have the city in no time.”

“I’m glad to see you all safe…” You sigh out in relief.

“Of course they are,” Kun says, looking at the pair, “The battle’s not even started yet.”

“It’s nice of you to be concerned for us,” Jeno blushes sheepishly.

“I’m glad you’re doing well too. How are things with you?” Shotaro asks.

“Great,” you shoot a glance at Kun, “He’s allowed me to stick around as usual. I’m not sure if I can live up to the bar you set, but I’m doing my best!”

“Nah,” Shotaro shakes his head, “Nobody can do what you do.”

“He’s right,” Jeno nods fervently, “The only person in the world that can defeat Kun is you.”

“Knock it off, guys,” Kun chuckles, “This is all going to go to her head and then I’ll be the one to deal with it.”

“Apologies, sir,” Shotaro says, “It can’t be helped.”

After some time, Kun fixes his gaze on Jeno, “Thanks for stopping by with the painting.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I’m confident that Kunhang is happy you have it.”

“Hmph, maybe it’s time for me to stop being such a hardass all the time.” Kun nods, “Hey, I’m leaving the rest to you.”

The words don’t register for Jeno at first, and he blinks incredulously with a nervous chuckle, “...Um… What do you mean by that?” Kun smiles back kindly, staring back at Jeno with eyes that brim with warmth. After a second, Jeno perks up and his eyes widen, finally realizing what he means, “Understood. Please leave everything to me.”

Kun nods curtly, perhaps satisfied with the confidence in his reply, “Osaki, do me a favor. Can you call Junhui? I have some words for him.”

A few minutes later, Shotaro returns with Wen Junhui at his side.

“Sorry for taking so long to get here… They put up a hell of a fight at Kangdong,” Junhui apologizes.

“We split our forces, we got screwed a bit because of it but we brought it back in the end.” Kun nods slowly, “All that matters now is concentrating our men on the front gates of the city.”

“We’ll take it no matter the cost,” Shotaro nods firmly.

“As long as we fight under the Hwarang banner we’ll fight to the very last man!” Jeno says quickly.

“Don’t say shit like that– Did you already forget that Junhui’s in command going forward?” Kun frowns.

“I’ll raise the Hwarang’s standard for this battle. Then everything should be fine, right?” Junhui asks, “So long as it’s up, I don’t think I could falter. I’ve lost a few battles here and there, sure, but I’ve never given up on the spirit of a warrior.”

“Hah,” Kun smiles at him, “Now the Army Minister’s superstitious? You need to get your act together, Wen.” That’s when you realize that all four of them are smiling. “We should get going,” Kun looks to you, “the men aren’t going to move themselves.”

“Alright…” You say, looking back to the other men, “I’ll see you all again soon.”

As you’re walking away, Shotaro shouts out, “I’m entrusting you with Kun!”

Ever since the war had begun, you’re unsure of how many times people have said this to you. You turn to look over your shoulder at him, “I’ll do my best! I’m ready to lay down my life just like anyone in the Hwarang!”

“You don’t need to risk your life,” Shotaro shakes his head as you turn fully to look at him, Kun continuing on behind you,, “I want you to protect Kun’s heart. He’s a strong man, but he hides behind that strength and he suffers alone. He needs someone who can look past that, and be there to support him. I believe that someone is you.”

To stay by Kun’s side and support him is all that you want… “Can I really do that?” Soon you’ll be plunged into a violent and bloody battle. How much help can you be to him in the middle of a war?

“What are you talking about?!” Jeno saysm “No one else except for you can do it!”

“Kun trusts you more than anyone else,” Shotaro smiles.

“Alright…” No one else can stand by him in the days to come. You nod firmly and wave to them one last time before rushing back to Kun’s side.

May 10th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla You’re sitting quietly in Kun’s study when he suddenly says, “We’re going to attack tomorrow.”

“Right…” You nod slowly. You’ve been on Pyongyang’s doorstep for weeks now, the battle is inevitable. When the sun rises the next day, the area will become a battlefield.

“Are you sure–”

“Yes, I’m going to stay with you.” However the battle ends, you intend to be there with him when it does.

“I need to stop letting you say it all the time…” His expression is solemn, but his lips are pressed tightly together and you can feel his hesitation. Kun’s eyes stare back into yours.

“Um…” The silence drags on and on.

“More than anything else, I want to keep you safe.” His voice is low, quiet, “I’m… I think I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth hangs open, the question you had intended to ask now forgotten. You’ve loved Kun for some time by now, and in the past months you’ve begun to realize how much he cares for you as well. For a moment, you think you’re heart is going to stop.

He gives you a crooked smile, reaching out to close your mouth, his fingers lingering under your chin, “I thought I could just die as soon as I’d done what I had to do for the Hwarang.”

The words linger in your ears and you can feel just how much has been weighing down his heart. It seems as if he’s trying to assuage your anxieties as he speaks in a soothing tone, “I mean, it’s not like I had a death wish or anything. I just… wouldn’t have anything to live for anymore.” His hand drops from your chin and into his lap, “So long as I led the Hwarang and made them into what they were meant to be, what did it matter if I lived or died? … But now I’ve got a reason to live.”

You feel your shoulders relax from a tension you didn’t realizing you’ve been holding.

“Because you’re by my side… It gives me a reason to keep moving forward.”

“Me…?” As you struggle to comprehend your worth to him, you squeeze your fists together.

Kun reaches out and embraces you, holding you tightly without saying a word, he opens his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closes it. There isn’t a need for words in this moment. At last, his stubborn heart opens, and through his lips pours out what it has long kept hidden. His touch is gentle as ripples on a lake but when you kiss, you feel within him a passion that burns so hot it could put a forge to shame.

And though that feeling fades as your lips part, the love that flows between you remains in your heart.

“Continue to stay by me,” he says softly, pressing his forehead against yours, “I won’t let you go even if you want to, so be prepared.”

“Of course, Kun,” you respond quietly, his hand raising to brush away the tears you didn’t realize were falling.

May 11th, 667 – Ajinham Fortress, Kingdom of Silla Once the first and second wave of Junhui’s troops leaves, Kun decides to travel with the men stationed in the third group.

“You’re coming, right?” Kun asks you as he walks to you, the reigns of his horse in hand as it trots alongside him.

“Yes!” You nod and he grins back at you.

The two of you gallop through the valley, moving at an incredible pace.It seems to be going well until something impacts Kun’s body, the horse, surprised by the sudden jolt rears up and throws you to the ground. Rid of its frightening burden, the horse bolts.

You’re fortunate to have landed in a small area of brush, only a few small scratches littering your body. “Kun!” You cry out to him, crawling across the ground toward his body, your own bruised and aching. The soil around him is staining red, more blood than you’d seen over the course of your time in the Hwarang.

Terror grips you and you can hear blood hammering in your ears.

“Kun!” You call out to him again, shaking his body as you call his name again and again.

“Hm?” His brow furrows ever so slightly. A normal human would have died from this– but his Fury blood is keeping him alive, if only barely.

“Say something!”

His eyes open to thin slits, “Are you alright?” Near dead and undoubtedly in serious pain, and his first thought is about your safety. “We’re in trouble if they come back to finish the job. We need to get out of here and wait for this to heal.” He struggles to his feet and begins to walk, blood dripping down the length of his body.

“Stop!” You say and haul his arm around your shoulder, and he leans against it gratefully. Scanning over the vicinity, you cannot see any enemy soldiers. Perhaps they’d seen you fall from the horse and assumed you’d died.

Nudging Kun, you push him to move into the brush away from the open air. In the forest you find a grove and settle down, “Kun, are you okay?”

He rests under the trunk of a large tree, a steady flow of blood leaving him. One might guess him dead from his pale complexion, “I guess so…”

“We need to do what we can to stop the bleeding…” It takes a sheer force of will to stop your fingers from shaking as you carefully peel off his clothing. Revealing his chest, you see two arrow punctures, one near his heart and one on his stomach. “This is horrible…” You murmur, thanking whatever deity’s out there that the archer had missed his heart.

You do what you can to staunch the bleeding, but without the proper tools you can only minimally patch him up, “As soon as you’re able to move again, we need to go back to the fortress.” With no response you call out to him again, “Kun…? Can you hear me?”

“Urg, yeah…” His breaths are heavy, “I don’t know if I can go back out there on my own yet.”

“Okay!” You say, knowing you need to keep him awake. “Shotaro and the others have everything under control. They’ll be waiting for you.”

“Damn r-right they will…” Sweat pours from his forehead, “They’re not Hwarang for nothing… We can;t waste too much time though, we– we have to come back and cover them while they take the gate.”

“You’re right… you’re… You’re going to make it,,” however the spots where he’d been shot don’t look like they’ll be closing any time soon. Had they used silver arrowheads? “Kun…?” His eyes close you begin to panic, “Kun!”

“Goddamn it… S-stop making a scene. I can hear you, alright?” His voice is barely above a murmur– it’s practically a wispy breath.

At once, a sense of clarity washes over you– he’s a Fury. “Kun. You need to drink my blood.” Without any doubts, you move your blade to your wrist.

“Stop it!” The force of his command startles you, and the blade drops to the forest floor. In his condition, he shouldn’t be able to scream this loudly.

“Why–?!”

“Spare me,” he says through grit teeth, “I’ll be okay. I’m not going to let this crap kill me… This isn’t the end, I told you that. You’re… you’re the reason I’m alive. I’m fine, I won’t die here.”

“I don’t believe you.” You frown, “I believe that you want to live and don’t plan on dying here. But you’re not ‘fine’!” He blinks incredulously, perhaps taken aback by the intensity of your glare. “So, I’m mot taking your word for it. You always put up a wall and pretend everything is ‘fine’ even when you’re bursting at the seams!”

You’re determined to get your way just this once. And maybe this time, you’ve gotten through to him.

“Some lady you are…” He chuckles weakly, “I’m starting to second guess why I fell for you. Ugh, this is why they say women from the countryside are trouble…”

“Look, I promise you can give me grief for this later, but for now, please…” Before you finish, Kun closes his eyes in silent resignation.

“Do as you wish…” He leans gently against the tree carefully. You pick up your blade, running it across the length of your wrist.You put your lips against the cut, sipping in a large gulp of blood without swallowing. You then lean over, pressing your lips against his and let the blood flow into his mouth.

Perhaps its his Fury instincts kicking in that allow him to accept the blood as readily as he does. You repeat the process of this blood transfer over and over again. You’re about to do it one more time when his hand reaches out to stop you.

“That’s enough,” he says calmly, “I’ve stopped bleeding.” His cheeks, once pale and pallid, begin to show color once more. “You’ve gone and hurt yourself for me…”

“It’ll heal soon…” you say, hiding the cut with the sleeve of your robes.

“What kind of absolute idiot would ever allow the woman he loves to hurt herself for his sake?” He sighs out, “Try putting yourself in my shoes for once.” After all of that trouble, the first thing he does is scold you… You can’t help but burst into laughter.

“What kind of absolute idiot would ever want to watch the man she loves suffer?”

“Oh, shut up…” He says as you continue to laugh.

After another handful of minutes he brushes himself off and rises to his feet.

“We’ve got to get going,” he says, pulling his robes back together. “Let’s head back to the fortress. Oh– and by the way, I’d prefer the next time we kissed to taste a little bit better than that did.” He chuckles as you help him start walking. His body isn’t great, but it’s enough to get you back.

Once you get back to the fortress, you’re met with a startling site. Perhaps you hadn’t noticed them bloom, or they’d come into their own while you were away, but the azalea bushes surrounding the fortress have sprung to life.

Their petals dance in the sunlit breeze, fluttering like small butterflies. The area is empty, the men away fighting at Pyongyang…

“Kun, how are you feeling?”

He forces a small grin. As a Fury, he should be fully healed by now. Dejun’s words about the Fury’s borrowing their power from their future lifespan suddenly comes to mind. You slowly begin to panic, becoming paralyzed with dread over the implications of this realization. Is this the end for Kun?

He breaks the silence, interrupting your anxiety, “You don’t look half bad surrounded by flowers.”

“You really think so?” You muse, “I’ve alway thought they really suited you, though.” Each falled blossom is strikingly beautiful in defiance of the tragic end they’ll surely face.

A strong gust of wind blows through the clearing. And then, out of nowhere, a figure emerges from the treeline.

“So, you were alive…” Lee Donghyuck’s eyes fall on Kun and his mouth curls up into a smile.

“Why…?” Your voice breaks and the Demon only laughs.

“This man is an affront to my honor.” He says simply, “I’m here to put an end to all of this.”

The last you’d seen Donghyuck, he warned you that he’d return. You didn’t think that he would forsake his clan and travel all the way here just to fight Kun.

“I’m surprised to see you make it this far,” Donghyuck mutters. “Impressive, for a fake. I heard your pathetic friends got their asses kicked until it was just you standing. I’m not sure if being born into a warrior family… Or hell, even being born as a Demon, could help you survive the embarrassment of failing as often as you fools do.”

It’s strange… his tone is as derisive as usual, but his words are almost compliments. In some way, he recognizes what Kun’s been through.

“Didn’t think you’d come all the way to Pyongyang.” Kun crosses his arms, his voice still a bit raspy. “What were you gonna do if I ate it already? You would’ve wasted your time.”

Donghyuck’s face screws into a twisted grin and he draws his sword.

“He’s hurt!” You cry, stepping between the two men.

However, Kun puts his arm in front of you and moves you, “Step back. He’s thrown everything away to come fight me, right? It’s only polite of me to accept the invitation to fight a warrior of his quality.”

Donghyuck practically abandoned his clan. This, up until now, seems to be his entire lids, just for the sake of defending his honor.

Kun and he are two different men in almost every way, but perhaps they share a warrior’s pride.

“I’ll be fine,” Kun tells you as he reaches for his sword, “I won’t die. I already told you: I have a reason to live.”

If he fights Donghyuck, then surely by then his life’ll be up. Even if you can convince him to run, then everything he’s stood and lived for will be destroyed. But you can’t stop him.

“...I’ll watch, then. I believe in you.”

Kun’s smile is fleeting like the blossoms scattering at your feet.

“Furies are only imitations,” Donghyuck says, brandishing his sword, “The more you use those powers, the shorter your life gets. You’re nothing compared to a pure-blooded Demon. You are destined to wither and die. You’re no different than these,” his show skids across the ground, swirling the azalea petals around.

“A man’s gotta protect the people he cares about. It’s not so easy to be a warrior, didn’t you know?” His tone indicates that he’s speaking seriously, but a sardonic grin dances along his lips. Watching him now makes you see just how much he’s given, every drop of sweat, blood and tears in his life to protect the ones he loves.

“Perhaps the name of ‘Fury’ no longer suits you.” Donghyuck says, his gaze narrowing, “The life you strive to live is not that of a fake.” There’s no hint of contempt left in those red eyes of his, full of confidence. “You are a Demon.”

The man who takes so much in being a Demon calling a Fury, a ‘fake’, a Demon… For him that’s possibly the highest compliment he can ever give.

“I take back all the crap I gave you for being a fake. If you’re really ready to take on the life of a Demon, that means you must have a Demon’s name. I name you… Dùjuān huā jīngshén.”

You think back to the first night you met Kun, his hair whipping around his face as snow falls around him like these monstrous azalea blooms do… It seems almost as if the name had been chosen long, long ago; so perfectly befitting of him.

“Thanks, I guess, but I’m not doing this so you’ll call me a Demon, you know.” Kun’s mouth quirks upward into a smile as he slides his sword from its sheath. With a sigh, his body shivers and suddenly his hair is white.

“Can’t play long, though. That a problem?”

“Not at all. I’ll kill you with the first blow.”

The air is tense between the two; not a soul can come between them. A wind blows up, casting scores of petals into the air. Between the two combatants, there’s a brief moment of stillness. If only for a second, their swords meet. The two trade blows that thunder through the field around you, slashing with their full body weight.

Donghyuck’s sword passes within a hair's breadth of Kun, but the Hwarang had found his mark.He buries his sword deep into the Demon’s heart.

“There’s still something I’ve got to protect,” Kun murmurs slowly, his voice full of confident authority, “I can’t lose, not even to a Demon.”

Donghyuck gazes up at the clear blue sky, and you can almost see a faint grunt creep onto his face.

His lips move, “If my end were to be met with the blade of a Demon like yourself… Then I have no regrets… I have lived my life with honor, and I die with the same.” Donghyuck’s eyes are free of hostility, if anything, he seems at peace. To die in a duel against a foe he respects… “You’ve defeated me. Now you must live out what you have left, Qian Kun.”

Those are his last words.

Kun draws his sword from Donghyuck’s body as it falls, dropping the still bloody sword back into its scabbard, “... I will.” Then his body trembles for a moment, and he gasps before falling to his knees.

“Kun!” You shout and run to his side. As he lies on his back, you take his hands into yours, “Please hang in there!” Your desperate screams reverberate around you, but Kun can only manage an uncertain lip curl.

“Man, you always have to cry, don’t you?” Kun smiles up at you, his voice weak, “If you don’t get thicker skin, there’s no way you’ll be able to handle being married to a warrior…” He winces with near every word and your heart clenches at the pain he must be in.

“I only cry because of you… And besides, being married to a warrior doesn’t make you impervious to watching the person you love get hurt.” Teardrops stream down your cheeks, dripping down on his bruised face. He reaches his hand unsteadily upward to wipe your flowing tears, kindly running a finger across your cheek.

“D- Don’t worry… You won’t ever have to cry on my behalf again. Just let me spend whatever time I have left with you beside me. I want to enjoy it…” Kun’s eyes quietly shut. You hold tightly onto his blood soaked body, hugging him closely as the blood seeps into your robes. Bright blossoms dance cooly around you as you look to the sky.

June 15th, 667 – Toehwa-hyeon, Kingdom of Silla Kun never made it to the gates or siege of Pyongyang. He never saw the fall of Yeon Gaesomun or the Unification of Silla. You hear later that it was Wen Junhui who brokered for a sated peace between Tang and Silla, at least for the time being.

The Tang reclaimed Minghao and his ships as soon as they could, returning him to their capital to bestow honors and titles on him. Somehow, Shotaro made it through the battle, despite having been on the front line. When you asked what he intended to do, he laughed and said he’d probably open a swordsmanship school in Seorabeol. Jeno, on the other hand, was entrusted by Kun with the Hwarang, returned to Seorabeol to try and rebuild what men they have left. As for Jungwoo, before the battle of Pyongyang, took his own life with a concoction of opium. You suppose he would have seen his life as forfeit if he couldn’t continue being a warrior…

From the stoop of your home, you watch the blooms of flowers lining the road before you, recalling everything that had occurred up north.

How many men had given their lives for what they believed in…? Perhaps most of all, you remember the time spent with Kun. Every time you come across an abundance of them, they remind you of that dreamlike spring, so far removed from it, you’re left to wonder if you really had spent all that time with him.

“You really like those flowers, don’t you?” A voice murmurs out from beside you, a mass of warmth pressing against you as another body squeezes into the doorframe.

“Yeah.” Neither the Yuchae nor the sansuyu can compare. “I like them because they remind me of you.”

Kun looks at you in a serene contemplation for a moment, then lets his grin spread across his face into a smile, “Well, I like them too. They look good on you.” His voice, soft and quiet, throws your mind into chaos.

“Lately, I’ve been worried about the end…” He hums, noting your confusion, “I never get bored when I’m with you. Sometimes, I wish I could live forever.”

As a Fury, Kun has spent his future in exchange for power in the present. How much he’s spent, you don’t know. His life could end tomorrow. If he could live forever, then that fear of the unknown will disappear.

“It’d probably be an easy way to go… to accept that I’m used up and wither away. But there’s no need for me to ask for an end. Since I want to live, I'll fight for survival. That suits me better.”

“I don’t want to be apart,” you say, your hand holding onto the sleeve of his robes. “I want to stay with you for as long as I can.”

He chuckles, “You cry so easily, I’d feel pretty bad if I left you behind.”

“Oh…” Tears had begun to run down your cheek without you noticing at first. You blink in surprise, but that hardly helps. You raise your hand to wipe them away but he grins and stops you.

“I’ll get them for you,” he says softly, gently drying them with his fingers. “It’s my job to help you.”

“Then it’s my job to support you too.”

“Of course, who else could fit that role aside from you?” He murmurs with a smile, “No matter what I do to drive you away, you won’t go. You even followed me to Pyongyang. I lost to you… and I don’t think I can ever win.”

You want to hold on to this moment of him, the memory, for as long as you can.

#nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #kun x reader #kun fluff #kun angst #kun smut #wayv fluff #wayv angst #wayv smut #it's here :)

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