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blossom-hwa · 3 months

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last night | y.jh, j.ww

pairing: Jeonghan x gender neutral!reader x Wonwoo genre: angst, god!au (?) warnings: implied sex (nothing graphic, but it's kind of obvious what happened) word count: 1.8k notes: — inspired by the title track for jeonghan/wonwoo's new album, 'last night' :) — rn this is mostly just vibes with a semblance of plot, but I hope to develop it at some point into something bigger! please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your theories about this and the mv <3 Two gods walk in your dreams, and invite you to dance.

Seventeen Masterlist

I appeared in your dream last night I sang in your dream last night Sweetly, at times passionately I carefully knock on your door

That night, the moment your head touches your pillow, you dream.

The room is dark, filled with the humid musk of sweat. People chatter unintelligibly over music filtering from the stage, a guitar melody over a Latin beat that sounds hauntingly familiar. Everyone seems to be dancing, but no one turns as you push through the crowd, looking for someone you don't yet know.

A hand tugs your wrist and you turn around, coming face to face with the man you fell asleep next to. Jeonghan's eyes glint with mischief as he pulls you to him, spinning you into the figures of a dance. There's no space in this dark room but he leads you with impossible ease, weaving in and out of the other couples on the floor, his chest almost pressed to yours as you spins you under his arm, round and round as your loose pants spiral out around you—

A different hand catches your waist. Dips you gently, then pulls you into frame before you even have time to catch your breath. And you don't catch it. Because it isn't Jeonghan who holds your hand now, leading you to the melody of this haunting guitar, but Wonwoo, who holds you with a softer grip, his palms rough against your skin but nothing short of gentle as he draws you close, close like he's afraid the crowd will swallow you away.

It doesn't. But he sends you out in a spin, your arms raised above your head, and when you stop whirling around it's Jeonghan who has caught you again, Wonwoo's face morphing into his.

Dark hair shortens and lengthens, turns darker and lighter under the room's neon glow. Rough skin grows smooth, sliding like silk against your waist and neck, and breath pants hot against your face and skin as you dance with two men and two gods, full lips and dark eyes almost meeting yours when—

"Got you now."

Jeonghan smirks, his thin lips curved teasingly as he pulls you flush against him. One arm snakes around your waist and with the other, he grabs your hand. "That was fun, wasn't it?" he murmurs. He spins you under an arm before you can answer, catching you in a dip that shouldn't be possible in this dark room of sweat and dance, but the crowd seems to have parted just for you in the center of the floor.

"Tell me," he whispers silky smooth into your ear. "Tell me you like me more than that upright, uptight, annoying truth-teller of a god."

You match his smirk. "I could tell you that," you reply softly. "Do you really want me to?"

"Depends." His smile widens. "Would it be a truth, or a lie?"

Laughing the way you know he likes, you wrap your arms around his neck. "Now where would be the fun in telling you that?" you croon.

He laughs, then—not his usual mischievous giggle, but a full-bodied laugh that sounds at once so much more innocent and so much more dangerous. "No wonder I like you so much," he says, and for a moment, you think he'll pull you up. Instead, though, he dips you lower, letting his hair dangle over your face. For a moment, you stay there, staring at each other, as the guitar sings soulfully from the stage.

His free hand rises, brushing softly against your face. "Why don't you stay with me?" he whispers, and you're not sure if it's his voice or his fingers that caress your cheek, wind soft, butterfly light, silk smooth. "All day, all night—I'll love you, you know. You'll never want for anything in your life." He leans in, those eyes cast down to your lips.

Your arms tighten around his neck.

The ghost of a smile curves his mouth. You shiver in his hold, precarious, stable, safe and dangerous and threatening—he will never let you go, it's true, but if he does, he'll push you into a void with a laugh and you will

never

stop

falling.

Fae eyes, so disarmingly gentle like the silk sheets that swallowed you as he took you last night, dark hair falling over his face when he finally collapsed next to you on the bed, panting into your skin as you whispered his name into the bare curve of his throat. He'd held you, then. Held you like you were everything he ever wanted. Everything he ever needed.

The girl's words from earlier suddenly flicker through your mind. Who wouldn't want to go with him?

But even in that hold, you still knew that you could fall.

His voice shivers across your skin, lips just brushing against yours. "I'll make all of your dreams come true," he whispers.

For a moment, you almost believe that he's telling the truth.

You allow yourself to smile, one hand dragging along his smooth neck, tugging through his hair before coming to rest on his cheek. "Jeonghan," you murmur, and his eyes flutter—like that one word weakens him, his name from your lips.

The room, dark with sweat, dark with lust, dark with memories forgotten in the fog of dance and drink, blurs in your vision. You press your forehead against his and gaze into those fae eyes always looking, always searching for something and someone you will never know, and he will never find.

You whisper, "You yourself don't even know what you want to find."

He is beautiful, even in his sorrow, in his anger, in his fury—fire burning in his eyes and in the pale skin smooth against your gentle palm. "And do you?" he asks, each quiet word a gunshot against your ear.

You don't have an answer.

His smile widens. And it continues to widen as it meets yours in a soft kiss, lips pressing against yours with a deliberate gentleness. Light as the wind. Warm as a fire. A man’s promise, and a god’s threat.

His lips taste salty. Like the oceans he crossed to find you, only to learn that your face was one he could no longer recognize.

"Damn." He frowns suddenly, pulling away. You blink in confusion as mock disappointment writes itself lightly across his face. "It looks like I've been found. Such a shame." In a moment he's pulled you up out of the dip, spun you around to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. "I'll be waiting for you, my little bird," he murmurs against your ear. He smells of the sea, the sun shimmering on its placid surface. "Treat that as a promise."

"A promise, or a threat?"

You hear his smile even if you don't see it. "Whichever one you'd like."

Something rips him away, then. A gust of wind slashes your face and suddenly you're on a rooftop, facing a very different man. Jeonghan is nowhere to be found.

Wonwoo gazes at you, his expression impassive as always. Hair frames his eyes, dark as night, and in the pale glow of the moon, he looks exhausted.

"Wonwoo." His name slips off your tongue. It feels so right, coming from your voice. The problem is, Jeonghan's also feels right, but in such a different way.

He looks at you, and you see it in his eyes. He knows. Knows what you did last night, knows whose arms you fell asleep in, knows who kissed you just now, even in a dream—

Knows who you let through your walls, even for a moment, in a way you have never allowed him in.

You tilt your head, looking into Wonwoo's dark eyes. Despite the shadows that follow him, he seems softer than Jeonghan, an impression only furthered by the fullness of his lips.

You've kissed Jeonghan. You wonder what it would be like to kiss Wonwoo instead.

"Y/N." Wonwoo's voice rasps your name, low and gravelly and achingly gentle. His arms slip out of his long, dark coat, and as the wind whips your skin he steps forward, draping it around your shivering shoulders.

You remember him earlier in the club, spinning you across the floor. You remember your hand in his, effortlessly leading you around other dancers to the beat. You remember the roughness of his palm compared to the softness of Jeonghan's, and you remember how he looked at you, a strange longing etched into every line of his face before Jeonghan took his place again and kept him away.

Wonwoo doesn't shiver despite the lack of a coat. But when he collapses into your chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like the lifeline of a drowning man, he feels so cold, like not even the sun could ever hope to warm him.

You hold him close, because you are not the sun, and you won't give up even when hope disappears.

Jeonghan lies. It is in his blood. He does it well, and you indulge him, because he is charming, he is handsome, and he is an old god who believes you are his.

You have never been Wonwoo's, however, by his word or yours. What some don’t understand is that you are no one’s to give or take. Nor is he.

"Y/N," he whispers again, like a prayer on his tongue. Like your name is his truth.

"Wonwoo," you murmur in reply, because to you, a mortal, his name is your truth.

He pulls away quietly but takes your hand. You look at your clasped palms, then back up at him. "It's time, isn't it?" you ask, a tear prickling your eye, lips almost curved in a smile.

That hand in yours lets go, and rises to your cheek. Wonwoo's fingers are cold but they begin to warm against your skin. "I'm sorry," he says, and there are tears in the rasp of his voice. He doesn't smell like salt, though. He smells like rain in a storm, grey clouds pouring clean and cold on the ground.

(A storm is what it is, but the sea always hides threats under its skin.)

"It's okay," you whisper as he leans in. "It's always okay."

His lips meet your forehead, as though in benediction. You close your eyes. The night sky disappears and so does he.

You wake up tangled in silk sheets, alone, your clothes tossed on the floor.

The press of Wonwoo's lips on your forehead still lingers softly on your skin.

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

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blossom-hwa · 2 years

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partly moon, partly sun | k.th

don’t really remember what happened, but at some point I decided taehyun could be a very convincing villain. so here this is. hope you enjoy <3

(in case you were curious, taehyun’s theme song is same scent by oneus)

Pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, god!au, villain!Taehyun

Warnings: death, blood, semi-graphic descriptions of gore, implied nudity, Taehyun is NOT what you should consider a good person and neither is mc

Word Count: 3.6k

When you die, Taehyun swears an oath of revenge to bring you back, the world and its gods be damned.

TXT Masterlist

As stone crumbles to the ground, Taehyun stares the final fallen guard in the eye, loathing and pity in his heart.

“You fought well,” he condescends, nodding once.

The woman only spits, eyes riveted on the seeping wound she inflicted upon his cheek. “You will never win,” she sneers, each breath harsher than the last.

Taehyun allows his lips to curl into a smile. “Oh, I think I already have.”

She doesn’t reply. It is understandable. The sword driven through her throat might have made it a little hard to do so.

Blood spatters onto his hand, but beyond a vague wetness, Taehyun barely feels it. He couldn’t see it anyway between the stone dust settling and the smoke rising from the distant fires, and even if the air was clear, the red would have blended into the blackened skin of his fingers, regardless.

It’s not as if murder burns anymore, not like it did with the first life he took.

A wisp of white rises from the dust, a pure soul wafting towards the heavens. Taehyun allows himself a note of satisfaction as he plucks it from its path, crushing it in his palm, letting its essence pool its way into his skin, into his blood, into his heart.

One hundred thousand souls he’s damned for this. All for this.

All for you.

Taehyun turns to the mountain of rubble before him, the broken remnants of your tomb laid in pieces at his feet. Several protective runes still flicker feebly in the burning sunlight but with a single gesture their stones crumble, breaking the last seals that had kept your final resting place from him for so long.

The sunlight beaming on his back lends Taehyun strength as he steps over crushed stone and dust. Blood spatters the gray, bodies buried in the destruction, and Taehyun can hear the souls he’s collected screaming in his chest, straining against the bonds of his heart. Let us free—we do not belong here—

He places a hand over his chest, smiling at the flutter of souls straining to release themselves from his skin. They are right in that they do not belong here, with him, but they will find their places in due time. Perhaps not in the heavens as they might once have hoped, but the purpose they will serve now is far greater than any pure destiny they would have found in the clouds.

His feet stop at the top of the rubble mountain. The sun shines so brightly here that Taehyun has to blink for a moment, shielding his face against the glare. But when his eyes adjust and he looks at the alcove below...

Your body lies bare on a stone dais, its sides carved with runes that, to his satisfaction, have now gone dark. Taehyun’s breath catches in his throat—you look so beautiful there, your eyes fluttered shut, that almost-smile on your lips, just as you always looked in his dreams on the dark days when he didn’t know whether he would ever find you again—but the arrow embedded in your chest ruins the picture, a shaft of gold protruding from your skin.

Taehyun’s nails bite into his palm. The arrow of his predecessor, once a deity he worshipped in the temple, once a symbol he took as his savior, the golden bow and arrow arched against the sun.

Shame burns in his cheeks at his prior ignorance. Yes, there was a time when the sun was his savior, the only god he worshipped. But that was a time before. Before the midnight stroll by the lake where he encountered silver silk pooling in the water, where he first saw your smile and heard your laugh and felt your cool, curious fingers tracing shapes against his face. Before he truly understood the beauty of the moon and how it shone in the dark, a beacon around which the stars could dance against the blanket of night. Before he watched you die at the hands of the god he had once worshipped as his own solely for the love you shared, and before he swore revenge on the golden bow and the hands that had drawn it, the hands of the sun god he once had the folly to revere.

Before he killed the golden deity himself, and took the god’s powers for his own.

Taehyun leaps from the top of the crushed stone tower, dropping lightly to the ground. The golden bow is gone, burned in the sun’s fire right after he shot the arrow that killed its owner. As he walks closer to your body, step by trembling step, everything in his burned black fingers aches to take the arrow in your chest and rip it out himself, burning it in his sun’s flame. But he abstains. Barely. Because it is not his wound, not his place.

That place will belong to you when you wake.

Right by the dais, Taehyun drops to his knees. Crumbled stone digs into his skin but he barely feels the pain as he takes your limp hand between his. So still. So cold. So unlike the gentle coolness of the fingers that had rested against his brow on dark, silent nights by the lake as your eyes bore softly into his, the eyes of a deity who had dared to love a mortal.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost see you standing before him, pressing the fabric of night into his hands and telling him to run, to hide in that soft, soft voice of yours right before the world exploded into terrible sunlight in the middle of the night and he had to watch you shot down by your own partner in balance, the golden sun he had once believed to be his savior, as he could only sit draped under the patchwork of midnight fabric, unable to raise a hand to save you.

Promises of revenge had burned in his heart then, as he watched your body fall. Those same promises tingle in his fingers as he traces a reverent hand over the lines of your palm, kissing it gently even though it feels so cold, so limp against his own. He has come so far in his quest for you—killed a god and a hundred thousand souls to bring you back. He will return the warmth to your skin, the life to your eyes, the smile to your lips.

He must.

Fingers shaking, Taehyun unties your last gift from around his waist. The fabric of night streams from his fingers, rippling midnight blue and deep purple and bright silver, diamond stars twinkling in the light of his sun. He holds it to his heart, closing his eyes for one breath, two.

The night will hide you, you had said as you presented him with the cloth torn from your own robes, wispy silver silk rippling blue and purple and palest pink in your hands. It will always hide you, Taehyun, do you hear?

He had heard. And he had used your final gift well, dodging every attempt of the sun god to have him join your grave, and then when he was dead, those of the other deities to prevent him from reaching you. Careful not to stain it with the tainted blood of his cheek, Taehyun presses the night sky to his face, to his lips with a whispered thank you for all it has done for him. Almost, just barely, he can feel the last vestiges of your power clinging to the fabric, moonlight trembling against his skin.

It will be yours once more.

Carefully, reverently, he drapes the piece of sky across your cold body, swathing your skin in shimmering stars and night. It curls around you, silk, a dream, and he lays a single hand on the cloth resting on your chest, just above the hideous golden arrow that still juts out of your skin. Begging. Praying.

There’s an irony there, in the prayers touched upon his lips as he bends over your still, cold figure. To whom does he pray, god of the sun that he is?

“Hear me,” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. “See me. Feel me.”

He prays to you, the only deity left for him to worship.

Power pools warm in Taehyun’s gut. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bids it rise, rushing through his tainted veins into his chest where it swirls around his beating heart. It fills his throat, chokes him with molten silver that he took unwillingly, a power that wasn’t his but that he had to take in order to right the wrong that tore away your life—

He gasps, eyes snapping open. Silver wisps through the air as it rises from the wounds littered across his skin. It burns, tarnishing as it meets his tainted blood, but he closes his eyes. Breathes deeply.

And presses his lips to yours.

Your mouth burns cold, dry, dead on his own, and he almost recoils at the sensation, snakeskin against his lips. But he doesn’t—he breathes into you, breathes the moon back into your throat, your lungs—bit by excruciating bit, he rids himself of the power that was never his, never the sun’s, never meant for anyone other than you, the brightest light in all the sky.

He kisses you again. And again and again and again, cradling your body to his as he breathes life back into your lungs. One hundred thousand souls scream as they escape the cage of his heart only to be thrust into yours, forming and dissolving and forming again as they warm your skin with life, with light, with everything wrongfully taken from you by the golden bow he burned in his own flame, never to be used again.

Tears mix with the blackened ichor that drips from his face, stinging his skin. But still Taehyun holds you even as he feels his strength waning, forcing the last dregs of moonlight back into your heart.

Until there is nothing left.

He pulls away, dizzy at the strange emptiness in his body where the power of the moon used to lie next to the golden warmth of the sun. Slowly, as the sun’s rays begin to pool through his limbs, taking up the space where the moon once resided, Taehyun lowers you back onto your bed of stone, blinking the last stinging tears from his eyes.

A drop of tarnished golden blood slides down his face, down his chin, onto your neck. He wipes it away with a blackened thumb. He may be tainted by the hands of black magic, but you will be pure. As always.

His moon, his constant moon.

You don’t feel so cold when he cups the side of your face, though between the tears and the sun finding a home in his body, Taehyun isn’t sure if that’s just his imagination. But as he leans in once more, he hopes, prays—

“Come back to me,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to yours. “Please.”

For too long, nothing happens. The world continues to burn. Stone dust continues to rise. Acrid magic continues to seep from the rubble, consecrated runes fading into the air. Taehyun closes his eyes, no longer able to keep the tears from sliding down his face. “Please,” he whispers, a prayer to you. “Please, my love.”

Come back to me.

The change begins slow, gradual, bit by such a tiny bit that he feels nothing at first. But a power starts to hum in the air, vibrating so gently at first he almost mistakes it for his, but it has a different feel as it grows, cooler, sweeter, a breath of fresh air against the acrid damnation of his magic—

His eyes clamp tightly shut. He wants it to be real—it has to be real—but if it isn’t—if it isn’t—

“Oh.”

Taehyun trembles as a weak breath floats softly past his skin. A finger rises to brush his cheek, where he knows the bleeding cut has marred his skin. The touch stings, but cools.

He trembles even harder.

“Oh,” your voice repeats, stronger this time, and it—it can’t be his imagination, the power thudding through the air, your forehead warm against his—

Slowly, Taehyun blinks his eyes open, heart pounding in his chest.

And meets your gaze.

You stare up at him, lashes fluttering but eyes riveted on his face, on the slash that still seeps blackened gold blood. Your fingers draw against the cut, so cool, so soft, so comforting—

“Oh, my love,” you whisper, cupping his cheek with a gentle, gentle hand. “What have they done to you?”

An ugly noise tears itself from Taehyun’s throat, and he cries.

You hold him as close as your weakness will allow, limp arms curling around his back and pressing him to your chest as he heaves shaking sobs into the sky. One hand finds its way to his hair, long and charred and unkempt, but for the way you stroke through the strands it could be the finest golden thread in the world. Taehyun leans into the touch like a child starved for attention, falling into the familiar warmth of your palm as easily as he did during those moonlit nights on the lake, so many centuries ago.

“I forsook the sun for you,” he whispers through the stinging tears, the admission burning his every breath.

Your hand stills in his hair. So do the fingers running across his wounded cheek. Taehyun keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut—he wrought so much destruction in your name without a second thought, but if he were to see disapproval, disappointment in your eyes in this moment here and now, it would—it would kill him—

“My love,” you say, everything beautiful in your voice. “Taehyun.”

The sound of his name from your lips forces him to breathe.

“Help me.”

He blinks. Help me.

Is it really so strange that even now, after centuries without your voice, two words from you have already become his command?

You struggle into a sitting position, still perched on the cold stone dais. Taehyun steadies you against his arm, watches you take in the destruction all around—the collapse of the consecrated tomb, the fires burning in the distance, the bodies laid amidst the rubble. The patchwork of night that he had laid upon your figure swirls around you, slowly shimmering into your favored cloth of silver stars that wavers in the air around your body, ready to settle on your warming skin if not for the arrow still jutting from your chest.

Your fingers wrap around the shaft. An aborted sound leaves Taehyun's throat as you pull—

The skin around the wound shimmers silver with blood. You hunch over, breaths pained and harsh, but as Taehyun wraps you in his arms and whispers soothing words into your ears, the wound begins to close before his eyes, leaving behind nothing but a pale, silvery scar.

You press a hand to the scar, expression unreadable. Taehyun holds his breath.

Then you lift the arrow that was once embedded in your chest and slash it across your palm.

“Y/N!” Taehyun jerks the arrow out of your hands, staring at the trail of molten silver trickling down your wrist. “Why would you—”

You raise the hand to his face, pressing it right against the still fresh wound. Your eyes hold his for one breath, two breaths.

“Does it still hurt?”

He blinks. “I—”

The pain is gone. Disappeared. You draw your hand away with a little smile on your face as Taehyun touches the skin where the wound used to be—nothing. There’s nothing. Not even a roughness to indicate a scar.

He gapes at you, voice gone.

“You forsook the sun for me,” you say, holding up your hand. Taehyun’s breath catches in his throat to see the silver blood blackened, tarnished like the ichor in his veins, curdling around a jagged scar closing on your palm. He drops his gaze, heart splintering to pieces—you must hate him for this, must hate him for having tainted your blood with the curse that runs through his—

The fact is, he never deserved you. Not when he was mortal. Not when he was a god. And certainly not now as he trembles in your hold, the blood of thousands caking his hands, destruction burnt on his fingertips.

But you cup his cheek and press your forehead to his, and when he dares to look up it’s to see you smiling so soft, so gentle, everything Taehyun remembered with each life he took, every drop of blood he spilled. Warmth fills his heart, silver moon and golden sun, as you hold his face with your tarnished, bloodied hand.

“Never, however,” you whisper, breath fluttering against his lips, “will the moon forsake you now.”

Relief bursts hot in his chest, rays of golden sunlight touching every inch of his body. A shaking gasp rips itself from his throat as he folds into you, a worshipper against his deity, tears mixing with the silver ichor still trickling from your hand. You say nothing, only hold him as close as your strength will allow as the world burns around you.

“You are my heart,” Taehyun rasps. “My soul, my power, my every breath.”

“As you are mine,” you murmur, a beautiful diamond tear shining on your cheek. “My sun, my sky, my star.” You take a deep breath, and Taehyun marvels at your beauty among destruction—a star in the darkness, the moon in the night, sparkling silver light against the blood of the earth, the tears of the sky. “I’m sorry I left you alone in this cruel world for so long.”

Far in the distance, a noise rumbles. Hoarse shouts of those who survived, so-called heroes the other gods sent to stop him. Taehyun almost laughs, remembering how easy it was to slash his blade through their flesh, felling each and every one with a single stroke. He pities them, these senseless, honor-driven creatures, for they will never know of the love of the kind he shares with his moon.

Let them come, he thinks, stumbling off the cursed stone dais as you make to move. Let them come—they will see what he has done, what he has accomplished in the name of love, in the name of his heart. They will see the moon returned to its rightful place, shimmering above a midnight lake on a peaceful night, molten silver against the sky.

He destroyed the world for you—burned cities to ash, spilled blood enough to fill the oceans, damned a hundred thousand souls and more. Tarnished ichor still coats his palms, spotted with red from the bodies crushed among the rubble, and the fruits of his labor show themselves in his hands now blackened and burned with forbidden magic, the very same hands you used to take in yours as you danced with him along the lakeside shores.

The very same hands you take now without so much as a thought as you step off the cold stone platform, your swath of night now settled lightly on your skin in long, silver skirts.

You shine so brightly in the darkness. So lovely. So perfect. Worthy of every soul he crushed, every drop of blood he spilled.

Never before have you looked so beautiful as you do now in Taehyun’s eyes.

“People are coming,” he says quietly, glancing at the distant fires. The shouts have grown louder, more frantic, more intense—he wonders, idly, if they know that they will die should they come any closer. Perhaps they still harbor some belief that they will be the one to save the world from the vengeful, inevitable path of the sun.

They don’t know he’s already won.

“Let them come,” you reply, squeezing his burned and blackened hand. It looks so out of place in yours, smooth and whole save for the jagged, tarnished scar across your palm, but you hold him like he is still the same man you met under a midnight sky of diamond stars, the skirts of your robes pooling silver against the shimmering lake. Specks of red blood stain your pristine skin, remnants of his own tarnished ichor dried against your other hand, and when you turn to him, Taehyun marvels once more at your beauty in destruction, a flower in a graveyard, a diamond in a volcano’s path. “We are ready.”

So many lives he took for you. So many souls he damned for eternity. So much spilled blood, so much dark magic, so much death and devastation that his own golden ichor has tarnished red and black, his fingertips burned dark by the universe.

And Taehyun knows, as he stares into your eyes, that he would do it over and over again, if it meant you would live once more.

“My love destroyed the world for me,” you breathe, guiding his lips to yours. When you pull away, your words soft against his skin, Taehyun can only stare at you in bliss—his love, his heart, his moon and stars and night sky, his soul alive and well to kiss him the way he dreamed for centuries in darkness. “He forsook the sun for me, tainted his ichor with death for me, burned his lovely hands dark with blood for me.” You lift his hands, press every blackened fingertip to your lips one by one. “All for me.”

Taehyun can’t speak as you raise a hand to touch his cheek, fingers skimming over where a tarnished wound once marred his skin. You trace its path as though you knew it long before you saw it, a vengeful gleam flashing across your eyes.

“Now let it be me, Taehyun,” you whisper, so warm, so sweet against his lips, “who will burn sky and land and sea for you.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for the world, because these two are not going to settle until they’ve had their revenge)

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