#Wong kunhang smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keehomania · 5 months ago

Note

hiiya! can i please please ask for something, ANYTHING about hendery? i kinda want to see him subby, but it’s more like him being whipped but then he takes the lead. do whatever you want with this

SWITCH-UP — WONG KUNHANG (黄冠亨) (18+)

✧°, MDNI

field trips were often the same, no matter the school. Herding into buses with chatter buzzing, students bemoaning the long ride or rolling their eyes at the thought of a mundane museum tour. a typical day out of the classroom, yet not much different from sitting at a desk. teachers barely holding the reins, students sneaking off for a smoke or gossip in secluded corners. for most, it was a rare break from monotony. these excursions usually ceased after the third year of high school, as if to mark a rite of passage into adulthood, where such frivolities no longer held space. but your university—oh, it was different.

here, nothing followed tradition, least of all the idea that field trips were for the young and naive. your university wasn’t bound by convention, and why would it be? prestige and wealth had a way of bending the rules. field trips continued well into your final years, an indulgence rather than an obligation, a reflection of the privilege sewn into the very fabric of your life. you didn’t mind. in fact, you’d grown to love it, this life shaped by the whims of the rich.

money came easy, after all. so did publicity and popularity, two byproducts of your academic brilliance and sharp athleticism. it all fit together like a carefully crafted puzzle, each piece adding another layer to your identity. it was a package deal—the intelligence, the skill. you had learned to navigate it seamlessly, embracing the unspoken power it gave you. you knew exactly who you were and how to wield that knowledge to your advantage.

your only flaw, some would say, was that you were a bitch. you weren’t ashamed of it. why should you be? the world you lived in didn’t reward kindness; it rewarded control. and you had control in spades. no one had their way with you—no one ever would. you were sharp, unyielding, and yes, at times cruel. it wasn’t something you denied, not even to yourself. the whispers in the hallways, the glances exchanged in the bathroom as girls fixed their lipstick in the mirror—it was all the same. they called you a bitch, and you owned it. better to be feared than forgotten.

the only person who didn’t seem to see you through that lens was kunhang. where others whispered behind your back or trembled in your presence, he adored you. bright and bubbly, he was the rare exception, the one who refused to believe you were anything but assertive. he defended you relentlessly, as if worshipping your very existence. he was infatuated, and it showed in every wide-eyed gaze, every laugh that burst from his lips when you were near.

you had thought it was natural for a boyfriend to be protective, to spin the narrative in your favor, but kunhang wasn’t faking it. he looked at you as though you hung the moon, as though every sharp word and cool glance only added to the mystique that made you irresistible. whipped didn’t even begin to cover it. he was enamored, and while you didn’t let many get close, he had earned his place. perhaps it was his earnestness, or maybe the way he never flinched in the face of your cutting remarks. he didn’t just accept you as you were; he adored you for it.

you allowed yourself to be softer around him, just a little. when his hand found yours, you didn’t pull away. at first, the gesture had felt awkward—foreign even—but over time, you grew to hold it with pride. kunhang, ever affectionate, was quick to pull you in for a kiss or wrap you in a hug, and while you rarely initiated, you never denied him. his adoration was intoxicating in its simplicity, and in those moments, you almost forgot the weight of your reputation. you almost forgot that in the eyes of everyone else, you were untouchable, untamable—a bitch with no patience for weakness. but with him, you let yourself lean into something softer, even if just for a moment.

the only reason you had walked hand-in-hand through the dense forest toward the campsite, surrounded by your classmates, was because of him. kunhang’s grip on your hand was tighter than yours, but you didn’t mind. his smile, bright and pure, was contagious enough to make you forget the slight discomfort of the heat or the uneven path beneath your feet. as you both neared the site, his eyes lit up with barely contained excitement. “we’re gonna share a tent, right?” his voice was laced with eagerness, the undertone making your smile widen.

“i was thinking of sleeping alone,” you teased, letting your tone carry an air of false seriousness. for a moment, you saw his grin falter, a frown quickly replacing the earlier joy, and you nearly regretted your words. “i’m just kidding,” you added, the corner of your lips quirking upwards as relief washed over him, his radiant smile returning.

the campsite was nestled between towering trees, their branches draping like a protective canopy over the rows of tents that your classmates had begun setting up. the scent of pine hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the damp ground beneath your feet. it was simple, perhaps too simple for a group as accustomed to luxury as yours, but there was a certain charm in the ruggedness. the makeshift fire pit in the center of the site flickered with the beginnings of a small flame, casting long shadows across the clearing. logs arranged in a circle around it served as seats for your group, who laughed and chatted as they worked to establish a sense of comfort in the wilderness.

you leaned back in your folding chair, watching as hendery—no, kunhang, to everyone else—struggled momentarily with the tent’s poles. his tongue poked out in concentration, brows furrowed in determination. it was amusing, the way he worked so hard, so focused. he wanted everything to be perfect, to prove himself capable. and you—well, you were perfectly content admiring him from a distance.

“nice job, kunhang,” a voice chimed in from nearby, and you turned to see one of the girls from your class offering him a thumbs-up, her face lit with a smile. she seemed harmless enough, but the sight of her addressing him so familiarly made something inside you tighten. to everyone else, he was kunhang, the boy with the easy laugh and friendly demeanor. but to you? he was hendery, your hendery. the nickname was yours alone, something intimate that others had no right to touch.

“keep walking,” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to slice through the air like a whip. the girl’s smile faltered, her eyes darting to her friend for support before they both hurried off, the lightness in their steps fading into an awkward shuffle. hendery couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from his lips, amused by the situation. he glanced at you, eyes filled with that familiar adoration, but said nothing.

the dinner that followed was as expected. adequate. passable. you couldn’t expect much from camp food, after all. it was edible, at least, and that was enough for the evening. you ate in silence, content to let the sounds of the forest and the chatter of your classmates fill the gaps. hendery, on the other hand, watched you with a quiet smile, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was holding back a secret. you met his gaze, raising an eyebrow as you chewed. “what? is my makeup creasing?” you asked, feigning concern while your eyes glinted with humor.

he smiled softly, shaking his head. “i have to stare,” he murmured, his voice dropping low, almost reverent. “you’re so beautiful.” compliments had always come easily to you, especially in this world of wealth and admiration. but his words—his simple, unadorned praise—held a different weight. they felt genuine in a way that made your heart stutter, your cheeks warming under the softness of his gaze. you could never quite get used to it, no matter how often he said it. there was something about the way he looked at you, something that made you feel seen in a way that was both flattering and unsettling.

tonight, though, his gaze lingered too long, and it wasn’t just admiration that danced behind his eyes. there was something more—something heated, almost guilty. his eyes roamed, caught on the way your shorts hugged your legs, the loose strands of hair framing your face in the gentle evening breeze, the smudged remnants of your makeup after a long day outdoors. it was nothing special, nothing you hadn’t worn a hundred times before, yet his gaze made you feel exposed, almost vulnerable. you knew that look. it wasn’t just admiration; it was something far more intense, far more complicated.

“you must like me a lot if you think i look good like this,” you teased lightly, finishing the last of your meal before rising to take your bowl away. you expected him to laugh, maybe to throw back a quick retort, but when you glanced down, you saw the unmistakable flush that colored his cheeks, the way his eyes widened in sudden panic. it was an accidental glance, something you hadn’t meant to see—but there it was. the bulge in his sweats was impossible to miss, painfully obvious, and the shade of crimson that darkened his face only confirmed it.

“no way,” you scoffed in amusement, the laugh bubbling out of you before you could stop it. he moved quickly, bringing his hands up to cover himself in a desperate attempt to hide the evidence, but it was too late. his stammered apology came out in broken fragments, his voice shaking with embarrassment. “i’m so— i’m so sorry—” he didn’t know where to look, how to explain, and the sheer mortification on his face was almost enough to make you feel bad for him. almost.

“move your hands,” you commanded, your voice cutting through his flustered panic with the same authority you always carried. hendery hesitated, but he always did as you asked. slowly, shakily, he let his hands fall away, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else had noticed. but it was just the two of you now, and your laughter echoed softly in the quiet space between you. “you’re joking,” you muttered, half in disbelief, half in amusement. but no, there it was, even more prominent now, standing to attention as if mocking him in his helplessness. you met his gaze again, and his eyes, slick with unshed tears of shame, only made the situation more surreal.

acoffing, you set your bowl down with a sigh before reaching for his hand. you didn’t give him time to react, to protest, as you pulled him out of his seat and away from the others, leading him toward the shadowed cover of the forest. “what are you doing?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, sniffling in confusion. you tugged him along with little regard for his unease. “no one’s looking. come on,” you paused, turning to face him, “don’t cry just yet.”

the forest around you felt silent and still, the distant crackle of the campfire muffled by the heavy, thick air that clung to your skin. you didn’t care about anything else—not the others back at the campsite, not the thin veil of night creeping over the treetops. it was just you and hendery now, and the pounding of his heartbeat that seemed to echo through the night. you pressed him against the rough bark of the tree, the jagged surface biting into his back, and his breath hitched in his throat. his chest rose and fell in uneven, jagged breaths, each one sharper than the last. his eyes were wide, glistening with unshed tears of embarrassment, and he stared at you like a deer caught in headlights, his lips quivering as he struggled to hold back.

you leaned in closer, your breath hot against his face, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his whole body trembling beneath your touch. “didn’t i tell you not to cry?” you asked, your voice rough, almost daring him to break the command. the weight of your words lingered in the air between you both, heavy and suffocating.

his response came in the form of a shaky nod, his hands gripping the tree behind him for stability as he wiped hastily at the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. you watched the movement, your gaze unwavering, hard. but then, as you let your eyes drop lower, to the obvious bulge in his sweats, it was impossible to ignore the way it strained against the fabric, pressing insistently as if begging for attention.

you tilted your head slightly, smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “what’s all the fuss?” you murmured, your tone shifting, softening like silk draping over his skin. the change in your voice had an immediate effect on him. you watched as his dick twitched visibly through his sweats, a reaction he couldn’t hide if he tried. a choked sound escaped his lips, something between a gasp and a whimper, and his cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. the embarrassment in his eyes was replaced with something else now—something more primal, more desperate.

“are you really that desperate?” you asked, leaning in closer until your breath was ghosting over his ear, your voice dripping with amusement. “are you that big of a pervert, baby?” your hand dropped lower, nails lightly grazing over the length of his clothed shaft. even through the layers of fabric, you could feel it—the way it pulsed, hard and warm, straining against the confines of his sweats as if begging for more. the touch was light, teasing, but it was enough to make him tremble, his knees buckling slightly as he leaned further back against the tree for support.

his mouth fell open as a whimper finally escaped, his head tilting back against the rough bark. “i’m sorry,” he whimpered, his voice broken and small, almost pleading. “i’m so sorry.” you scoffed, unimpressed by his pitiful apology, and in one swift motion, your touch went from teasing to something far harsher. your hand tightened around his bulge, squeezing with just enough force to make him cry out, a loud, needy moan spilling from his lips before he could stop it. his body jerked against the tree, and his breath came out in shallow, desperate gasps.

“you’re sorry?” you mocked, raising an eyebrow as you loosened your grip just slightly. his face twisted in a mixture of shame and pleasure, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he trembled under your control. “show me how sorry you are.” your words cut through the haze of his mind, and before he had time to process them, you were on him again. your hand tightened once more, eliciting another loud, desperate moan from his lips as you pressed your body closer to his. without warning, your lips crashed against his, silencing his moans as your mouths moved together in a frantic, messy kiss.

he kissed back immediately, unable to restrain himself any longer. his lips moved against yours, hungry, desperate, his hands scrambling to find purchase on your body as his mind spiraled out of control. it was all too much—the way your hand gripped him, the way your lips claimed his with such possessive force, the way your body pressed against him, making it impossible to think, impossible to breathe.

every whimper, every moan that slipped from his lips was muffled by your mouth, and you could feel the way his body responded, the way he shuddered under your touch, utterly at your mercy. he kissed you like he was drowning, like you were the only thing keeping him afloat in the suffocating weight of his desire. and you knew, from the way he trembled, from the way he gasped into your mouth, that you had him exactly where you wanted him.

you pulled back from the kiss, leaving him panting, breathless, lips swollen from the frantic mess you’d made of him. his head hung low, hair falling into his eyes as he tried to collect himself, chest heaving with the weight of every desperate breath. his cheeks were stained red, a shade darker than before, and the faint shimmer of tears still clung to his lashes. “look at you,” you whispered, voice low and sharp, like the edge of a blade grazing skin. “what would they think if they saw you like this? if they saw how desperate you are for me?”

your words hit him like a punch, and his whole body tensed against the tree. his eyes shot up to meet yours, wide and panicked, as if the thought of anyone else knowing what was happening between you terrified him more than anything. but there was no escaping it, not now. you could see the conflict in his gaze—the lingering embarrassment colliding headfirst with the raw, unfiltered lust that was consuming him whole. “i—” his voice broke, small and weak, as he struggled to find the words, shaking his head helplessly. “i can’t help it,” he breathed, the confession falling from his lips like a prayer. “i’m desperate for you.”

his answer hung in the air, heavy and thick with tension, and you could see the shame in his eyes, the way he was utterly, hopelessly whipped for you. it was almost pathetic—the way he looked at you, wide-eyed and trembling, like he’d give anything just to feel you again, just to hear you speak his name. “desperate,” you repeated, tasting the word on your tongue, savoring it as you leaned closer, your lips ghosting over his ear. “is that what you are, baby? desperate?”

his breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping his throat as he pressed himself harder against the tree, as if trying to disappear into the bark, trying to hide from the humiliation that was burning him from the inside out. but he couldn’t hide—not from you. not when you had him pinned like this, trapped under the weight of your words, completely at your mercy. his eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together. the humiliation was etched into every line of his face, every breath that passed his lips, and yet the bulge in his sweats only seemed to grow more pronounced, more insistent with every word that spilled from your mouth.

“tell me, baby,” you continued, your voice softening, a cruel sweetness seeping into your tone. “are you ashamed? do you like being this desperate for me?” he swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he answered, “i—i can’t stop. i—” he broke off, breath catching in his throat, eyes flicking up to meet yours, pleading. “i just, i need you.”

his confession was raw, dripping with need, and it sent a thrill through you, a rush of power that made your lips curl into a smirk. you let your hand drift lower, fingers brushing lightly over his clothed length, feeling the way he twitched under your touch, the way his breath hitched in his throat. “of course you do,” you murmured, eyes darkening as you tightened your grip, feeling him pulse beneath your fingers. “but you don’t get to have me until i say so.”

a sharp gasp tore from his lips as you squeezed, his body jerking forward instinctively, as if trying to chase the touch, but you pulled back just as quickly, watching as his face twisted in frustration and need. his hands clung to the bark behind him, knuckles turning white with the effort of holding back, of staying still, of not falling apart completely beneath you. “such a sweet boy,” you mocked, the words dripping with sarcasm as your other hand slipped up to his jaw, forcing him to look at you. his eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over again, and it only made you smirk wider, relishing the sight of him so undone.

he opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat, and all that came out was a soft, broken moan as your hand drifted lower again, fingers slipping just beneath the waistband of his sweats. you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his whole body trembled under your touch, and it made you laugh softly, a dark, amused sound that made him shudder. “you’re already this hard,” you noted, your tone a mixture of disbelief and mockery as you tugged at the waistband, pulling his sweats down just enough to free his length. it sprung up, hard and eager, and the sight of it only made your smirk deepen. “are you really that big of a pervert?”

his face flushed a deeper shade of red, and he bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. but he couldn’t stop it, not with your hand wrapping around him, stroking slowly, deliberately, your grip tight enough to make him squirm. “i—” his voice broke again, barely a whisper, and he whimpered as your fingers grazed the sensitive tip, teasing him, driving him to the edge without giving him what he so desperately wanted. “please.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer until your lips brushed against his ear, your voice low and taunting. “please what, baby? tell me what you want.” he shuddered, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, and he tilted his head back, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to find the words, his whole body trembling with the effort. “please,” he whispered again, voice cracking, “i—i need to fuck you.” your smirk widened at his desperation, at the way he was so willing to beg for you, to completely submit to whatever you wanted from him. and you weren’t about to let that go unrewarded.

with one swift movement, you pulled his sweats down further, exposing more of him to the cool night air, and your hand wrapped around him fully, stroking with just enough pressure to make him gasp, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch. his moans were soft at first, barely audible, but as your pace quickened, they grew louder, more desperate, more needy. “you like this, don’t you?” you whispered, your voice dripping with amusement as you watched the way his face twisted in pleasure. “being so completely at my mercy.”

his response was a broken, breathless moan, and his hands scrambled to find something to hold onto, fingers digging into the bark behind him as his body shook with the intensity of it all. you could see the way his tears threatened to spill over again, the way his whole body trembled beneath your touch, and it only fueled the fire inside you, the desire to completely undo him. leaning in, you kissed him again, hard and unrelenting, swallowing his moans as your hand continued to work him, the heat between you growing with every passing second. his lips moved against yours, messy and eager, his desperation seeping into every kiss, every touch, until all that was left was the sound of his broken moans and the sharp, needy gasps that filled the air around you.

you pulled back, letting him pant against you, his eyes blinking open to meet yours, glazed with a mix of passion and despair. “you wanna fuck me? fill my pussy up?” you asked, your voice a low purr that sent a shiver down his spine. he nodded frantically, his breaths coming in short, stuttering bursts as he choked out a single word. “yes, please, fuck.”

you stepped back, your hand sliding away from his cock, leaving him standing there, exposed and desperate. your eyes raked over him, taking in the sight of his shaking legs, his flushed skin, the way he was barely holding himself together. “not yet,” you murmured, the smirk never leaving your lips as you turned away, heading back towards the tents. he stumbled after you, sweat glistening on his forehead, his eyes never leaving your retreating form.

you reached your tent, the one you’d so confidently claimed earlier, and without looking back, you slipped inside. you could hear his footsteps hastening, the sound of him tripping over a root, his gasp of pain muffled by the thick carpet of leaves beneath his feet. you didn’t bother with the zipper, letting the flap fall open behind you as you moved deeper into the tent, his eyes following you like a starving man watching food being dangled just out of reach.

his eyes never left yours as he stumbled in after you, his movements clumsy with desire. you let your shirt fall to the ground, revealing your lacy bra, your breasts heaving with every breath you took. his gaze dropped to your chest, his mouth watering at the sight, and you could see the way his cock twitched in response. “you sure you want it?” you taunted, cupping your breasts, your thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. his eyes snapped back to yours, a silent plea, and you laughed, the sound echoing through the tent.

you stepped closer, your hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw before sliding down to grip his neck, your thumb resting against his pulse point. it was racing, a frantic drumbeat that matched the thundering in your own chest. “you can have it,” you whispered, leaning in until your breath mingled with his, “but only if you can handle it. can you handle me, baby?” your voice was a challenge, a promise wrapped in a warning, and he nodded, his eyes wide with need.

your hand slid down to the base of his throat, your grip tightening as you pushed him back onto the makeshift bed, the sleeping bag rustling beneath him. he lay there, panting, his cock standing tall and proud, begging for attention. but you weren’t done playing yet. with a wicked smile, you straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips, your pussy hovering just above his dick. the warmth of him radiated through the fabric of your shorts, making you wet, making you ache for more. you leaned in, pressing your chest against his, the feel of his heart hammering against yours as you whispered into his ear, “are you sure you can handle this?”

his only response was a desperate nod, and you couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound dark and thrilling. you reached behind you, unbuttoning your shorts with a flick of your thumbs before sliding them down, your ass cheeks exposed to the cool night air. his eyes followed the movement, his pupils dilating with want, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted. “just like that,” you murmured, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure through him. “now, let’s see if you can be quiet for me, okay?”

you ground down onto him, the fabric of your panties rubbing against his cock, the friction setting your nerves alight. he groaned, his hands coming up to grip your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. but you slapped them away, a smirk playing on your lips. “no touching, unless i say so,” you warned, the words a hiss that sent a shiver down his spine. his eyes searched yours, desperate for understanding, for reassurance, but all he found was the same cold, hard stare.

his breath hitched as you reached back, sliding your panties to the side, and you could feel his cock, hot and insistent, pressing against your wetness. you took a deep breath, savoring the moment before you sank down onto him, the head of his dick parting your folds, filling you inch by delicious inch. his eyes rolled back in his head, a deep, guttural moan ripping from his throat as you took him fully, your pussy tightening around him like a vice.

the tent was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, the wet sounds of your pussy taking him, the harshness of your breath as you rode him, his muffled moans as you dictated the pace. it was intoxicating, the power you had over him, the way he was so desperate for you, so completely and utterly lost in your control. your hips rocked back and forth, grinding down onto him, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, your eyes never leaving his. but it took a turn, one that you could clearly see in his eyes. his expression darkened at the sensation of your cunt clenching against his slick cock, and you could feel your ego dissipate as he grabbed onto your hips. his hands were rough and stronger than anticipated as he pinned you down, his dick never daring to slide put of you.

his thrusts grew more demanding, less submissive, and a thrill shot through your body at the sudden shift. his eyes bore into yours, a silent challenge, and you felt something within you unravel, something that hadn't been touched by anyone else. your breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts, your nipples tight and sensitive against the fabric of your bra. you could feel the beginnings of your climax, the tension coiling in your belly, but he was relentless, driving into you like he was trying to claim a piece of you that you hadn't known was yours to give.

his teeth grazed your earlobe, his breath hot and needy as he whispered, “this pussy’s all mine.” the words sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you weren’t the one in charge anymore. you were just another person, a body that was his to use, his to claim. your pussy clenched around him as he fucked you harder, the sound of your slapping flesh echoing in the tent. you threw your head back, moaning loudly, and the vibration of the sound only seemed to spur him on, his grip tightening, his thrusts growing deeper.

his eyes searched yours, looking for approval, for a sign that this was what you wanted, and you met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. your hand reached back, grasping his neck, pulling him closer until your mouths met again in a kiss that was anything but gentle. your teeth clashed, your tongues battling for dominance as you both gave into the carnality of the moment. his fingers dug into your skin, leaving bruises that would last a long while. “some power you have over me,” he mocked, pausing to pull out before slamming back in with a growl. “what power? so bold while i’m splitting you in half.”

you threw your head back, a gasp escaping your throat as he hit just the right spot, the one that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. “keep going,” you managed to murmur, your voice strained with pleasure. “don’t stop, hendery. please don’t stop.” and he didn’t. he kept fucking you, hard and fast, his grip on your hips unyielding, his rhythm punishing. you could feel yourself getting wetter, your pussy gripping him tighter with every thrust, and it was delicious, it was maddening, it was everything you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

his hand slid up to cup one of your breasts, his thumb flicking over the nipple through the fabric of your bra. the sensation was electric, shooting straight to your core, making you arch your back and push down onto him even harder. “you like that?” he asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. “you like when i use you?” you nodded, unable to form coherent words, and he chuckled, the sound dark and triumphant. he pulled the cup of your bra down, exposing your nipple to the cool air, and took it into his mouth, sucking and biting until you were writhing beneath him, your cries growing louder and more desperate.

his other hand slid down to your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you bucking your hips up to meet his touch. the pleasure was almost too much to bear, pressure building within you that threatened to consume you whole. “cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice a command that resonated through your body. “let me hear you fall apart, fuck.” and you did. with a loud, guttural cry that seemed to shake the very earth beneath you, you came, your pussy spasming around his cock, your body shaking with the intensity of it all.

he didn’t stop, though, his movements growing even more erratic as he chased his own release. you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tightened and his breath grew ragged. and then, with one final, brutal thrust, he came, his cum filling you up, the warmth of it spreading through your core. your eyes locked onto his, the intimacy of the moment so intense it was almost painful. for a few seconds, you just laid there, panting, your hearts beating as one, the world outside the tent forgotten. however, it wasn’t.

✧

a/n: this was lowkey rushed but it’s 2 am i’m so sorry

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ronjunnie · 9 months ago

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HENDERY FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

ONESHOTS

mine for the summer (26.7k) @the32ndbeat

savior (24k) @starlightkun

weaving promises (12.1k) @xiaodejunletsact

sleepless cinderella: hendery (11.1k) @starlightkun

TIMESTAMPS

2:59 am @saeyoungchips

7:47 pm @gyeomsweetgyeom

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lavenderbexlatte · 1 year ago

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day 5: mile-high club

nct/wayv 1.9k words female reader insert Reader x Wong Kunhang (Hendery) NSFW

🖤 warnings: idol au, public sex, penetrative sex (f receiving), they fuck in an airplane okay idk what you expected🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

You have never wished for the gift of being clueless more than you're wishing for it in this moment.

Because, of course, you know too much. You're observant by nature, and you like that trait most of the time. It's helpful. It keeps things interesting.

It also means that you know full well that the person in the seat next to you on this half-full flight from Hong Kong to Seoul is famous.

You don't know who he is, exactly. It's not that serious. But you can tell just by looking at him that he's someone. Famous people have this air, especially these young sheltered ones. Not cocky, like rich American popstars. Nervous, as if they're about to be scolded at any time. This one looks like that.

He's handsome, though. From the peeks you've been able to sneak as the flight attendant handed you a water over him, anyway. He's got a hat on, and a mask, but you can see the telltale flawless skin and terrified eyes of a young, company-stranglehold celebrity.

There's a seat between you. He's in the aisle, you the window. It's still too close for comfort. You wish you were the kind of person who didn't notice things.

Because now, all you can think about is who he might be. What he might look like, under the careful disguise. And, kind of evilly, how many girls in how many countries would kill for the opportunity you have, here, just to be next to him.

It's only a three-hour flight.

So when the flight attendant returns with snacks - the only service on this short flight - you make the most of your chance to break the ice.

You drop your pretzels on him.

The bag is closed, of course. You're not a monster who's about to waste a snack for attention. But it falls into his lap, and he barks out a startled laugh.

"Sorry," you say, flashing him your best smile.

Like you'd expected, he jumps at being addressed. His eyes dart to you.

It's as if he thinks any person who looks at him is going to whip out a camera and start making calls. So-and-so from such-and-such group is here! Look!

"Can...I have my pretzels?" you ask gently.

"Oh!" He startles all over again, snatching up the little packet and holding it in your general direction.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Words. That's progress.

"D'you fly this route a lot?" you ask.

He actually looks at you this time. "...A couple times a year, maybe?"

You nod. "This was my first trip to Hong Kong."

"For what?"

Ice, broken.

"Work," you say.

Your business trip was three days and two nights, and you've been bored out of your mind since you left your hotel room the first morning. Conferences are inherently boring. This is the most fun you've had in weeks, as you watch this anonymous celebrity's curious eyes as you give a vague summary of your long weekend abroad.

"Me, too," he says, when you've finished.

You grin. "You?"

"Yeah."

"You work?"

The two of you obviously aren't speaking his first language right now, but he catches your joke easily. "Do I look like I don't work?"

"You look..." you hesitate, and he notices.

He notices, and he wilts. As if he's expecting you to realize, to recognize. To ruin this moment of human to human.

"I-"

"Good," you interrupt, before he can shut down on you completely. "Too good. Like a nepo baby."

"Nepo baby." He turns the phrase over on his tongue.

"Nepotism. Personality hire. Friend of a friend? Daddy's money, maybe?" you tease.

He smiles. His mask is still on, but you can tell by the crinkling lines near his eyes.

"All talent."

It's a hint, a little hint about who he really is. You just let it lie.

You grin back, but you sit more firmly in your seat, straightening up from the way you'd been leaning toward him to talk. You've done your searching, now you can give him some space.

That lasts for about one episode of television on the cramped little seatback screen.

After that one episode, your handsome seatmate gets up to use the restroom, and he leaves his phone on the empty middle seat.

You don't think it's on purpose, but the phone is unlocked. Open, plain as day, messaging up all queued up and the most recent texts plainly visible.

You're not in the business of snooping, usually, but come on. You're only human. And the most recent message, one from your seatmate sent to a contact in a language that you can't read, says something in another language that you certainly can read.

Well, some of it. The word "pretty" stands out pretty starkly. The blushing emoji doesn't hurt.

So he thinks you're pretty.

When he comes back, you've got another episode playing, innocent as can be.

He sees the open phone, still just laying there, showing everything, and he grabs it so fast that he nearly drops it.

You let him sit with the question that he so obviously wants to ask for just a moment, or two. You can see his uncertain gaze, trying to wager if it's worth embarrassing himself.

You pull your earphone out on the near side, and you meet his eye. "I think you're pretty, too."

The earbud goes back in, as he faceplants into his palms.

There's only two hours of the flight left, now.

You can't even finish the episode. You're too curious.

"So, it's mutual," you say lightly.

"I guess so," he replies.

His voice is small, strangled with self-consciousness but also something else. You figure it out when you see him eyeing the row ahead. He must be on this flight with other people. People who wouldn't be too pleased to see him doing...anything, really. Company people, maybe, work people.

Well, you don't really want to get him in trouble. But he is very pretty.

"If you..." You're trying to word your question carefully. "If you could do something about that, would you?"

"Do something?"

"I think you're pretty. It's mutual. In some situations, people would do something about that."

You don't know why you're doing this. He's obviously nervous, and he's obviously famous. You also think he's probably out of your league, under that mask.

"I can't really do things like that," he says.

"Have you ever tried?"

The airplane cabin is only half full, maybe less, but like any flight, it's dark. Simulated nighttime, even for a short trip. Easier if the passengers sleep through the whole thing.

You stand up. Everyone in the rows around you - maybe six people, including the tired-looking middle-aged guy in the row ahead that your seatmate had been eyeing, and the two young men beside him - are asleep, with eyemasks and headphones. The works.

"You can come if you want."

He looks confused, until you head toward the restrooms at the center of the plane. You make sure he's watching which one you choose, and of course, he is. You lock yourself into the little booth, barely enough room for one person, and wait. You wash your hands, for good measure.

There's no reason why he would come. If the flight attendants catch you, if that guy he's with sees, the consequences could be-

But then there's a tentative little knock. Barely loud enough to hear, over the normal noise of the plane.

When you unlock the door, he pressed himself inside so quickly that you stumble against the rounded wall. He's got the mask pulled nearly all the way up to the brim of his hat, face completely hidden except for two very anxious eyes.

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to." He locks the door, leaning against it. "One crazy thing. Just once."

"Careful. If you like it, you'll have to do more," you say somberly.

He laughs softly, just a sharp breath. "Don't care."

Under the mask, he has a long, handsome, masculine face, classic like a movie star. Under the hat, he has long glossy black hair that practically touches his shoulders, cut in lovely rounded waves.

Under his shirt (though you don't take it off, for time and convenience), a thin, wiry physique that makes you think he's probably a dancer, not a model or actor.

Under his joggers, a pair of well-worn black boxer briefs that do not a single thing to hide his half-hardness, his length and girth that both have you wondering how you're going to walk out of here like nothing happened.

Under all of your clothes, it's just you, but the way he's watching as you strip the layers away makes you feel like you must not be half bad.

"Is this illegal?" you wonder, as you settle back against the wall with your panties hanging off one leg.

"Probably," he says. "Do you wanna stop?"

"No."

That's all he needs to hear, apparently, because he's got his length freed and your leg hitched around his hip lightning-fast.

"What can I...what's your name?" he asks, as the hot, broad head of him nudges up against you.

You're honest. You tell him your first name.

He smiles, showing off very straight, slightly overlarge teeth. "Call me Hendery."

It sounds like a fake name, because nobody's fucking name is Hendery, but now isn't the time.

Hendery pushes in, and you sigh, pitching forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle any other noises, and to avoid looking at his gorgeous face.

Eight hours ago you were having cheap coffee in a stupid boardroom with Ms. Li from the Hong Kong branch, and now you're having your insides rearranged in an airplane lavatory.

It's extremely unfair that this man is handsome, well-endowed, and somehow also talented, in this, regard, as he keeps a bruising pace while avoiding any kind of telltale rattling of the folding lavatory door, keeping you close but also letting you tip your head back again, expose your throat, stifle your noises into the meat of your arm.

"Wish you didn't have to be quiet," he says.

You huff out a laugh. "Unless you want paparazzi waiting for us, I gotta-"

"Paparazzi?" he grins. "What would they want?"

"You tell me."

He doesn't tell you, but he does grip you harder by the hip, use the leverage of this position to pull you in time with his motions, force you down harder, faster...

Maybe it's the adrenaline, or the risk, or the fear, or maybe this guy really is some kind of supernatural force, because your peak is looming. Your head is buzzing, your veins thrumming...

Hendery is gonna make you cum, like this.

You tell him, and he laughs. You can feel it reverbing in his thin chest. He trails his lips over your cheek, down to your throat.

Playfully, he bites.

Your world goes white.

-----

It's strange, to be back home so soon. Familiar soil, Incheon Airport arrivals, getting yourself a snack.

The convenience store is mostly empty, due to the late hour and the odd time of year. That's just fine, though, because it means that no one is around when you scream.

You don't mean to, of course. It's not even a whole scream, just a startled yelp. And you thank your lucky stars that the bottle in your hand doesn't pop when you drop it on the floor. The mess would just be the icing on this cringe cake.

It's a birthday message on the electronic screens at the mouth of the store. The kind of things that music and drama fans buy out for their idols, whitewashed photographs and cheesy well-wishes.

Happy Birthday to our prince, it reads.

His name really is Hendery.

Hm. Well.

You take your snacks, and head to checkout.

He looks better than that in person.

#kinktober 2023 #kpop kinktober #wayv fanfic #nct fanfic #hendery fanfic #nct hendery fanfic #wayv hendery fanfic #nct hendery smut #wayv hendery smut #wong kunhang fanfic #nct smut #wayv smut

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marvelous-llama · 11 months ago

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NCT recs / WayV recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

A Merry Christmas Eve by @chittapornswife

Hendery x fem!reader (wc - 4.7k) enemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers - fluff, crack

Take me to the stars by @yutasbellybuttonpiercing

Hendery x fem!reader (wc - 4k) university AU - fluff, smut

get to you again by @moonctzeny

Hendery x fem!reader (wc - 3k) friends to lovers, mutual pining - fluff, angst(ish), smut You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

summertime by @wincore

Hendery x fem!reader (Wc - 4.5k) childhood friends to lovers, first love AU - fluff, angst

Even by @starry-nights-garden

Hendery x gn!reader (wc - 0.9k) established relationship - fluff When your boyfriend decides to cheer you up after you’ve been having a rough time, you convince him to let you make it up to him somehow.

series

Sign Me Up by @irregular-idol-imagines

Hendery x fem!reader (wc - 2.1k + 2.1k) - crack, fluff, smut you get to know Xiaojun's apartment and his roommate Hendery, who you seem to share a very special kind of humor with as you quickly bond over the existence of sex related neon signs (or alternatively: you're on a lightheaded pun-mission and Hendery is falling in love) part 1, part 2

#nct #wayv #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct recs #wayv recs #wayv smut #hendery #nct hendery #wayv hendery #wong kunhang #hendery x reader #nct hendery x reader #wayv hendery x reader #wong kunhang x reader #hendery smut

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wayvchip · 5 months ago

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about me 🤍

please call me wayvchip! i'm 22 years old, use she/her pronouns, taiwanese-japanese born in the united states!!

rules for requesting <- PLEASE READ BEFORE REQUESTING

masterlist

wayv as types of drunk people at a party

wayv mtl likely to prefer dating someone clingy

cute dates with bf!wayv

makeout sessions with wayv

anons <3

🍪 anon

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crdteezv · 10 months ago

Text

Back 2 You - Hendery

Paring: !childhood best friends/roommates to lovers to exes to lovers again! hendery x afab! reader

Genre: college au in the beginning, non-idol au, HEAVY ANGST & smut

Synopsis: You grew up with Hendery and have been best friends with him ever since you were little. But as you both got older, things started to become more complicated. After all that has happened, can you ever bring yourself to trust and forgive him…

Warnings: !fuckboy! hendery, HEAVY TOXICIXY, cheating(he did it tho…), lots of arguing, heavy alcohol use (he is lowkey an alcoholic…), SLIGHT domestic violence (only happened once), the reader lowkey a perv in the beginning, dirty talk, teasing, kissing, fingering, choking (receiving), oral (giving/receiving), throat fucking, manhandling, use of sex toys, heavy degradation, rough sex, slight humiliation, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Word Count: 10.9k words

A/n: I hope you enjoy this because it's one of the first fics that's very story-driven. This one is not for the faint of heart so if any of the warnings trigger you, you shouldn’t read this fic!

Growing up, you used to be next-door neighbors with Hendery. Ever since you were little, you were really close with all his sisters. Both of your parents would have you guys hang out with each other all the time. You'd practically be at their house every weekend. He never had a brother, so he was always stuck playing alone with his action figures.

One day, you left his sisters for a little bit to go play with him, and since then, you've been closer to him, hanging out with him all the time, up until high school. People started assuming that the two of you were dating, which caused a lot of conflict in your friendship. He didn't care, and you weren't sure why it mattered so much to you. You knew that you just weren't ready to tell him you liked him. You started to develop feelings for him and didn’t want to come to terms with it. So, you distanced yourself, but Hendery, being Hendery, would constantly bother you and just wouldn’t leave you alone.

Eventually, you have gotten over everything in senior year and go back to being good friends again. The feelings you once had for him suddenly just went away.

That was until the two of you became roommates after high school.

You both used to joke about how you always wanted to live together when you were kids, but you actually made it happen. That summer after high school, you both worked hard and eventually rented an apartment together. No one in your family questioned it since they knew that your relationship was completely platonic and didn’t see each other in a romantic way at all.

Now, you were both juniors in college and were loving it, especially Hendery. Ever since you both started college, he would attract so many girls and was pretty much the life of any and all parties.

Parties weren’t really your scene, but you would go to them every once in a while. Every time you went out with him, it was like you would see a different side of him. When he is around you, he is always so calm, but when he goes out to party, he gets sloppy drunk and tries to hook up with every girl he sees. It was getting overwhelming for you having to always drag his ass back home and be the one to apologize for him after any messes he made. You practically became his caretaker always having to help him sober up after the party. So, you just stopped going to parties with him altogether. It just got worse as time went on; he would start coming home late at 4 or 5 am, and you knew that meant he was probably with some girl. Deep down, a part of you would get almost annoyed and irritated when he was out with someone this late.

Almost as if you felt jealous, maybe?

This was all put to the test when one night Hendery was getting ready to go on a date with a girl. He was asking you for advice on what to wear and how to act. You were just sitting idly by on the couch, reading a book. You heard him call out your name and walk into the living room. It seemed he had just hopped out of the shower because he had his towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still wet, and you could see the water droplets slowly drip down onto his body. You even looked down for just a second and discovered that he had a new grown happy trail.

Why was he so attractive?

But him being shirtless didn’t make things feel awkward between the two of you because you guys were so close to each other; it didn’t even matter. Plus, whenever he was home, he was shirtless the majority of the time, so this didn’t faze him.

“Okay, so which shirt should I wear for the date? This pink one or the green one?”

He presented you with two different colors of dress shirts, and you pointed at the pink one since you thought that would suit him better. He smiled at you and walked back into his room, and you heard the door shut. You covered your face with your hands, trying to compose yourself. Tonight was a big night for Hendery because this would be his first serious date, and you felt bad for feeling this way about him.

To be fair, you never really had much dating experience. You only dated one guy in high school, and it wasn't even a serious relationship. These days, you didn’t know why, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Hendery. Even when you pleasured yourself, sometimes he would come into your mind. You felt guilty perceiving him in such a perverted light. He was your best friend, and all you could think about was him fucking you.

It’s been 15 minutes, and he finally got out of his room, and you saw Hendery all dressed up in formal attire.

“Wow, you look fancy. Where do you plan on taking her?” You said enthusiastically.

“Oh, I’m taking her to a nice high-class restaurant that’s on the outskirts of town.”

In a sarcastic tone, you replied, “Oh, that's nice.”

He could clearly tell that you were upset with him for something. He knew you acted passive-aggressive when you were mad at him.

“Okay, tell me what is it now?” You gave him a confused look and didn’t understand what he was asking.

“Come on, it’s obvious I did something wrong this time. You only act like this when your mad at me.”

You rolled your eyes and said, "For the past month, you've been coming back home drunk and loud, making it impossible for me to sleep. I'm always the one who has to help you sober up, and it's just getting exhausting for me to clean up after you all the time."

“What? I don’t come home late every night—”

"Hendery, for the past three weeks, you've been coming home smelling like alcohol at 4 am. You're probably going to do the same thing again tonight—"

“Excuse me?” You could tell that he was starting to get annoyed, and you probably shouldn’t get on his bad side now. You got up off the couch and made your way over to him.

“Oh, you heard me the first time.”

“Okay, look, I think I seriously like this girl, and I wanted things to be different with her, and—”

“Let’s just be honest here, you don’t care about her, and you're just doing all this to get into her pants. You’re just going to have a couple of drinks with her and then come back home and expect me to pick up all the pieces for you—”

You walked closer to him, and you were face to face with him. You poked his shoulder to bother him and said in a serious tone,

“The only thing that’s on your mind all the time is sex. You could never be in a serious relationship with anyone.”

The tension in the room was thick, and it fell silent for a second. This was the first time you had said something so harsh to him. You could feel that he was about to snap. He grabbed your hand and stopped you from poking him. The look in his eyes almost made your knees buckle out of fear.

"Take back what you said," he demanded, squeezing your hand even harder, the pain becoming increasingly unbearable for you.

“Hendery, stop it, you’re starting to hurt me—” You began to protest, but he continued to advance, causing you to retreat until you were backed against the couch with nowhere else to go.

“I won’t stop until you take back what you said,” he insisted, his grip tightening even further.

He had completely lost control now.

With some effort, you managed to free your hand from his grasp and push him away from you.

“What’s your problem? Were you actually trying to hurt me?” you exclaimed.

“No, but I don’t appreciate you basically calling me a whore and claiming that I can’t be serious with someone—” he shot back, his irritation evident.

“Because you literally CAN’T,” he continued, walking back towards you and crossing his arms, giving you an annoyed look.

“How do you know that I can’t actually be with somebody?” he challenged.

“Are you kidding me? Every other night, you come home late after fucking some random girl you met at a party. You brag to me all the time about the girls you sleep with, and I’m getting sick of it.”

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, you’re just jealous and you wish you were one of the girls that I fuck every night,” he taunted, his tone dripping with condescension.

Your rage began to boil over at the audacity of this man. Not only was he undermining your feelings on this situation, but he was also claiming that you were jealous.

You were at your breaking point.

“I know you did not just say that,” you retorted, your voice laced with disgust and attitude.

He looked at you with a cocky smirk, as if this whole situation was amusing to him. He drew closer until he was face to face with you, then knelt down and whispered in your ear,

"You're just jealous, sweetie. You wish instead of me being out all the time, I was the one with you. Don't think I don't hear you moan my name sometimes when you're all pent up. These walls aren't as thick as you think they are."

Your body froze for a moment, unable to move a muscle. So all those times you were getting off, Hendery had heard every little thing. Little did you know, he would sometimes get off to the sound of your moans, but of course, he wouldn't tell you. You began to squeeze your thighs to alleviate the stress of the situation, but he beat you to it and placed his thighs in between yours. He lifted your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, love. Just a second ago, you couldn’t stop bitching and complaining, and now you're completely silent—” His grip on your chin tightened,

“How pathetic.”

It was as if his whole demeanor had shifted from before. Earlier, he was happy and ready to go out on his date, and now he was almost scaring you.

You were in such a state of shock that you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. It was as if he was a completely different person now, and you were terrified of him. He started to lower his hand from your chin down onto your throat, slowly choking you. As he watched tears start to pour down your face, he almost seemed to enjoy this.

You decided enough was enough and started to speak to him. “Stop it. You’re hurting me again—”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” he said in a playful manner.

You nodded your head, and he let go of your throat, leaving you coughing and gasping for air.

“Look, I don’t know what has gotten into you tonight, but I’m going to need you to apologize.”

“And what if I don’t?”

You looked at him with such anger and said, “Then I’m going to have to kick your ass out of here. I have no room to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”

He knew you were serious, and that he should just stop acting like this. But there was a part of him that liked seeing you in this state. He would always piss you off growing up, and some things just never change.

“Fine, I’ll back off… if you admit that you want me.”

Oh, he is just crazy.

Not only does he lack empathy for how hurt you may feel right now, he has to be so entitled even in a time like this.

“NO, I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Not now or ever.”

He just leaned back against the wall and gave you that same smirk from before.

“Oh really? Then why do I always hear you moan my name? It seems to me that you want me—”

He approaches you again, but this time you tripped and fell back onto the couch and now you’re looking up at him. Before you can get up, he pins both of your hands down.

“And it seems that you need me now more than ever, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You felt yourself wanting to give in, and it was getting harder to control yourself. He has such a way with words, you were starting to forget why you were even arguing with him in the first place. He practically manipulated you, and you played right into his hands.

A part of you didn’t care.

“Fine, I will admit I might need you just a little bit—”

You were cut off by him as he leaned down to kiss you. You began to make out and started to feel the tension between you guys start to disappear. You both passionately make out, and he lets go of your wrists, and you wrap your arms around his neck. You felt connected in this moment and didn't want to let go of each other.

“Mhm, I’m glad you’re finally admitting it. I knew it was a matter of time before—”

You don’t let him finish talking; you push him off of you and switch positions, shoving him down on the couch. Now you’re on top, straddling him, and he was a little shocked by your sudden act of boldness.

“If this is going to work, I’m going to need you to be quiet for me—”

You slowly unzip his pants and take out his cock from his boxers.

“You talk too much.”

Something about you being so stern was making him even more aroused. He nods his head, and you begin to stroke him with your hand. You pump up and down his shaft, and he is grunting and moaning for you.

You decide to take a step further and lower your mouth onto him. He throws his head back from pleasure and loves feeling the warmth and wetness of your mouth. You begin to bob your head up and down as you see him loving every second of this. You even used both of your hands to stroke him at the base simultaneously.

The moment is ruined when Hendery gets a phone call from the girl he was supposed to go on a date with. That doesn’t stop you, however, and you just keep on going as usual.

“F-fuck can you slow down-”

You were taken aback as he shoved you all the way down to the base of his cock, holding you in place to answer the phone call as if nothing was happening.

“Hey, I know this is last minute but—”

You somehow managed to start moving again, causing him to squirm and find it hard to speak coherently.

“Oh, I-I’m fine. I’m just a little h-held up with something, and I have to canc—”

You started moving faster, getting back into the rhythm from before, causing him to bite his lip and throw his head back. He was starting to lose his mind.

“F-fuck… I MEAN, I’m sorry, I have to cancel, and I’ll call you later, alright, bye.”

He hung up instantly and grabbed your head with both of his hands, and face fuck you. You began to gag as your throat closed up around him. You felt that he is starting to get close because his dick started to pulse and twitch in your mouth.

“Mhm, I can’t h-hold it in anymore—”

He instantly came, his release pouring into your mouth. Without wasting a drop, you swallowed it all. You felt dizzy after all that had just happened. You could’ve been caught, but you wanted to make Hendery suffer so much that it didn’t matter. You found yourself drifting as you tried to fall back onto the couch, but he switched positions, leaving you underneath him again, your face down and your ass up in the air.

“Oh, princess, we’re not done just yet. There’s still another hole of yours I want to fill.”

Goosebumps coursed throughout your body, and you were too stunned to say anything as you watched him start to take off the tie he had on and use it to tie up your wrists.

“Ah, this will be a nice handle for me to use to fuck you. Just how I could use these too—”

He gave your ass a hard smack and then roughly grabbed your waist with both of his hands.

“God, you look so pretty to me. I can already see a wet spot forming in your leggings, sweetie.”

He began to remove your leggings and panties, pushing them down to your ankles, leaving you with just one of your oversized shirts on, without a bra. Since you were at home, you didn't feel the need to wear one.

You felt Hendery start to slowly feel all over your body, groping your tits. He had lifted his hand under your shirt and began to give them a light squeeze. You let out a little whimper and started to squirm for him. He didn't like that and gave your ass another smack.

“Stay still for me, baby.”

“Mhm, I-I don’t know if I can—”

He started to twist your nipples and slowly kiss on the back of your neck. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew where all your sensitive spots were. You started to moan out for him, which just made him hard for you. He couldn’t take it anymore and stopped what he was doing altogether, positioning himself into you. You felt him rub the head all over your wet entrance, and then he shoved himself deep into you, eliciting a scream of pleasure out of you.

He began to penetrate with slow and deep strokes, gripping your tied-up wrists for support and balance. He felt that he could lose himself in you and he wanted to take things slow. But now that he felt you wrapped around him, it drove him crazy.

He didn’t know how long he could keep this up and started to lose control. You did too as you frantically started to fuck yourself roughly back onto him. You were lost in your own world and didn’t care about anything but Hendery right now. He let you do all the work for a second, even lifting his hands off you. He was enjoying the view of you being so desperate for him that you were almost using him to get off for your pleasure. This is just how you would masturbate to the thought of him on those late nights, and now you were fucking him.

But enough was enough, and he wanted to wrap all of this up.

He grabbed your wrist again and started to pound you into the couch at a rougher pace. You screamed out for him to slow down, but he was now ignoring you, using you now for his satisfaction. He was so consumed by all the lust that he didn’t care if you were satisfied or not. Then he remembered that you’re not some random girl that he would hook up with and that you mean more to him than that.

“Okay, love, I want you to come with me, alright? I don’t think I’m going to last very long here.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You both went at each other at a fast pace, and he finished inside you while you came alongside him. It was so much that he had to spray the rest all over your ass. Before you could say anything, you felt the couch start to shake a little, leading to it breaking.

“Oh no… did we just—”

“Oh, relax, sweetie. This couch was getting old anyway. We can just get a new one.”

You both laughed it off, and he laid you on top of his chest for a minute. Eventually, he got up and gave you a washcloth to clean you up. He even went to the fridge to get your favorite ice cream. You felt comforted to know that he does all this because he cares about you.

It made you wonder if he treats all the other girls like this.

“Hey, look, I want to say sorry for being such a jerk towards you tonight, and I wasn’t going to take her out—”

“WHAT? SO YOU LIED TO ME?”

“Oh, well… if you put it that way, then yeah, I lied. But I only did this to test you. I knew if I confronted you about your feelings for me—”

“Wait, you did all this because you think I like you?”

He was a little taken aback by your question. Did he read the situation wrong this whole time?

“I-I mean, yeah. I see the way you always look at me ever since we were growing up. Especially in high school, you just couldn’t keep your pretty little eyes off of me, even when you distanced yourself from me.”

“Oh, that’s so not true—”

“Then why can’t you look me in the eye right now? You only do that when you lie or if you’re extremely nervous. It seems like you’re both of those things right now.”

God, you forget that at the end of the day, he is your best friend and he knows everything about you. He can read you like a book.

“OK FINE! I admit I always had a crush on you. It’s just I was afraid that it would just get in the way of our friendship. So in high school, I stopped hanging out with as much to try to get over my feelings for you.”

He was still a little surprised by all the things you were saying. You were finally confessing your feelings for him, but he didn’t know that you felt this strongly for him. He couldn’t begin to understand why you felt this way about him out of all people.

“Now my feelings came back for you since we started being roommates. I thought I would be fine, but sometimes seeing you come out of the shower and even walk around in just some sweatpants really gets to me. I—”

He stopped your rambling love confession with a passionate kiss. It felt sincere and comforting all at the same time. He placed one of his hands on the side of your cheek and lightly caressed it with his thumb.

“Look, I fully understand how you feel about me, and I like you too. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was hoping that hooking up with other people would distract my feelings towards you, but it hasn’t been helping. I sometimes imagine the girl I’m with is you—”

“WHAT? You’re such a pervert, you know that?”

"Says the one who secretly watches and gets off to the thought of me," he retorted.

“You know what? Touche. I guess we’re both crazy about each other. I’m just glad to hear you like me too. I genuinely didn’t know you felt this way about me.”

“Yeah, I’ve always known. All my sisters would do is tease me about it. They always tell me just to tell you, but I was always scared you didn’t see me in that way.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled back at him. “Of course, I see you in that way. But what about the girl you were supposed to go on a date with?”

“Oh, I actually was never going to go through with that date with her anyway. I planned on flaking on her since I assumed this was going to happen—”

“Wait, how did you know this was going to happen?”

“Oh, please. It was a matter of time before you fell for my amazing charm,” he said playfully.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light punch on his arm. He acted like it hurt and said, “Ow, what was that for?”

“For being too cocky. Also, you're evil for using that girl to try and get to me—”

“Oh yeah? But that doesn’t matter because I belong to you now.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at that moment. He always knew what to say to make you feel overwhelmed.

“And now our first date can be at that restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to! We should go there next Friday!”

“Alright, it’s a date!”

You’ve been dating for almost a whole year now, and things have been going great. Both of you always go out on cute little dates, and he treats you well. At first, your relationship had a rocky start because you found it very hard to trust him. I mean, it’s only fair since he used to be a big player. But ever since he got with you, he has completely changed as a person. It was almost as if he had a soft spot when it comes you.

One day, you and him were assigned a group project with this other girl, Lia.

Now, you always thought something was off about her from the day you met her. The way she would act around Hendery really rubbed you the wrong way. She always laughed at something he said, even though it wasn’t funny. She would even find a way to touch him, whether it was playfully punching his arm or his thigh. You even brought it up with Hendery, and he just said that you were making a big deal about it.

“Look, babe, I think you’re overreacting a little bit. Me and her have always been friends ever since high school.”

“Um, I don’t know, I’m serious, Hendery, something is off with her. Whenever I would text her about the project, she would either not respond to me or respond days later.”

He was actively getting ready to go to his friend Yangyang's birthday party. Hendery doesn’t go to parties as much as he used to before, but since this was for his best friend, he had to make an appearance. He was putting his shoes on now and he was almost ready to go. You weren’t planning on going with him because you didn’t feel so good. He offered to stay with you, but you didn’t want to get in his way because he was looking forward to the party. He even planned most of it.

“Look, honey, I’m sure Lia doesn’t like me or anything. Last I heard, I think she’s talking to someone.”

That gave you some relief knowing that now. You almost felt bad for painting this evil picture of her. He could tell how anxious and worried you looked. He walked up to you and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Baby, if you're worried that much, I won’t even stay long at the party. I will go and make sure everything is ok and come back home, alright?”

You nodded, and he gave you a kiss goodbye as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.

Fast forward, it was starting to get pretty late and Hendery hadn’t come home yet. But you didn’t let it bother you because a big fear of yours is that you didn’t want to seem too needy and clingy to him. You called him once, and he didn’t answer and left him a couple of text messages, but he hasn’t seen them. You just told yourself he was busy trying to make sure everything at the party was going well, and you didn’t want to be in the way of that. So you decided to go to sleep at this point because you were tired of waiting for him.

It’s 2 am now when you get a phone call, but it is from your best friend.

“OH MY GOD, you need to check what I texted you just now. It’s crazy, and I’m sorry this happened to you, but I had to be the one to tell you,” she exclaimed.

“Well, what is it-”

“Look, my phone is about to die and I can’t stay on the phone for long so just look at the photos I sent you alright?”

“Fine.” She instantly hung up and you went straight into your messages with her.

What you saw that night completely changed you forever.

It was photos she took, and it was of Hendery and Lia being together.

He never mentioned that she was going to be at the party, and all the photos made you want to burst into tears. You could see that she was sitting in his lap, and he looked very happy to be with her. There was even one photo where he had his hands around her waist, and they were making out with each other. In the last photo she sent, it looked like Lia was leading him to a room upstairs, so you already knew what probably happened next.

Hendery just cheated on you.

Not only did he belittle your feelings on how you felt about her, but he made it seem like everything was ok when in reality he just wanted to get into her pants. It makes you begin to question whether all those late nights when he said he was at the "gym," he was actually with her instead. It makes sense why she would feel so comfortable touching him in the first place. All the pieces start to come together. No wonder she used to be so passive-aggressive with you all the time and so dismissive.

She was jealous of you and wanted Hendery for herself.

Before all of this happened, you and him started to become a little more distant. You would always ask him if it was something you did, but he would always reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. You began to blame yourself for all of this happening. If only you had encouraged him to stay home with you, none of this would have happened. Tears started to pour down your face, and you were continuously sobbing. You just couldn’t believe he would do something like this to you.

Here you thought that Hendery had changed.

So you decided to confront him about it when he came home. You went straight into the living room and sat there until he came back.

Some time passed, and now it’s almost 4 am. You had fallen asleep for a bit, but you were awakened by the front door being opened. He tried to shut it softly, almost as if he was trying to be sneaky. But you turned on the light and gave him an intense death glare.

You were furious.

Rightfully so. Your childhood best friend, now boyfriend, not only cheated but broke your trust. You could never trust him or look at him the same way ever again. He gave you a look of fear, almost as if he was afraid of you. You got up from the couch and started to walk towards him.

“So, what happened to you coming home early, huh? Do you realize what time it is right now?” You said in a serious tone.

“U-um yeah, Yangyang wanted me to stay longer, and I-”

“Are you serious? Hendery, if you’re going to lie to me, don’t use your friends as a cop-out.”

He gave you a confused look, and he couldn’t register what you were talking about.

“Hendery, I know you were with Lia tonight. I saw everything.”

The look on his face was almost priceless. You had never seen him look so worried and scared for his life.

“I don’t know what-”

"CAN YOU JUST STOP LYING? I gave you a chance to be honest with me, and now you want to lie to me not once but twice. God, you're such an asshole.”

“Oh, I’m the asshole? You wait for me to come home this late to make lies and assumptions about Lia after I told you-”

You cut right to the chase and showed him all the pictures on your phone.

He immediately wanted to fall to his knees at this moment. He has now been caught, and there are no excuses for what he has done to you.

He tried reaching out to grab your phone and said, “Hey, where did you get those-”

You swiped your phone and backed away from him. When he was approaching you, you caught a whiff of alcohol coming off of him.

He was clearly very intoxicated right now.

He hasn’t been this drunk since last year when he would come home late after parties. He was clearly unstable right now because he could barely stand. You almost started to feel a little worried for him.

“Was I not enough for you, Hendery? What did she have that I didn’t?”

He gave you a dazed look because he genuinely didn’t know how to respond to this. Even he couldn't understand why he did all of this in the first place. Ever since he has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't been to any parties and didn’t have that much fun. That’s why he originally planned this one for Yangyang. But he didn’t even know that Lia was going to show up. One thing led to another, he just kept on having drinks with her, and he couldn’t stop it.

Just for one night, he didn’t even think about you.

“Look babe, I don’t know why I did it, okay? I will be honest with you, I used to have feelings for her a long time ago, and I was even going to take her out last year and-”

“Wait a minute, the night that I confessed to you, you were supposed to go on a date with her? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Well, I thought I was completely over her, so I didn’t feel the need to tell you-”

“Oh, you’re such a jerk. You lied to me and told me I was overreacting and that it was just all in my head. You made me feel stupid, and you said she was talking to someone else. Was that all a lie too?”

“Technically no because she lied to me too.”

“And you think that’s supposed to just make things better? You’re such a terrible person; I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“It’s not like you’re any better anyways.”

He hit a nerve with you. You knew that because he was drunk, he was probably saying things he didn't mean, but you couldn't stay calm anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me, sweetie. You’re just as bad as me. All you ever do in this relationship is control me and don’t let me be free. You stopped me from going out to parties as much, and I barely go out as much because of it.”

“Are you actually stupid? I didn’t say you couldn’t go; I just didn’t trust you because I knew some shit like this was going to happen. You’re starting to really piss me off now.”

“Then how about you just shut up then-”

You gave him a hard slap on his face. He had finally crossed the line. He was clearly upset about what you did, and he pushed you against the wall, causing one of the photos to fall against your arm and onto the floor. It scratched your arm a bit, and it was evident it was going to leave a mark.

“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” you yelled at him in anger.

He pinned you against the wall and looked down at you with frustration. You had never seen him this mad at you before. He had never been this violent towards you, and you were starting to feel scared of him.

He just started crying out of nowhere and tried to caress your face with his hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry and didn’t mean to hurt-”

“Get out now.”

He looked shocked and almost surprised by your response.

“If your ass is not out of here by the morning, I’m calling the police. I don’t want to see you ever again. Do you understand me?”

He instantly regretted all the things he had done to you. He knew you were serious because you had never spoken to him like this before.

"Me and you are done, Hendery."

You push him off of you and go straight into your bedroom, throwing all of his clothes and stuff out into the living room. He keeps begging and pleading for you to stop, but you ignore him; you have made up your mind at this point.

“Babe, please, I’m sorry. I clearly drank too much, and I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you. I promise we can fix this, and I'll do better-”

“NO, WE CAN’T. What don’t you understand when I say get out now? We’re done, and frankly, I just want you out of here immediately.”

“B-But where am I going to sleep tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You should’ve thought of that before you went out and cheated on me. Here's all of your stuff; get out of here now.”

“I live here too, you know-”

“Well, not anymore.”

He starts to accept this outcome. He knows that nothing he could say or do could change your mind. He starts to make his way over to the front door and gives you a look of guilt. He really messed up this time; he was not only losing his girlfriend but his best friend.

“Oh, I know it’s too late to say this, but happy one-year anniversary.”

Holy shit.

You lost track of the time, and you realize that today was indeed your one-year anniversary with him. The fact that all this had to happen on the day of your anniversary makes everything even more painful. He closes the door behind him, and you never see Hendery ever again.

Seven years had passed, and you had established yourself in your career. You got a job offer that brought you back to your hometown. Three months into this new job, you had become close with your coworkers, who invited you out for drinks to celebrate. Excited for a night out, you dressed in your favorite outfit and headed to the bar, catching an Uber to meet your colleagues.

Little did you know, Hendery happened to be at the same place too. At first, he didn't notice you until Yangyang pointed you out.

"Hey, isn't that-"

"Yeah, it is her. I haven't seen her since we broke up. She looks so different now."

"Dude, I know. You were stupid for cheating on her in the first place."

“Tell me something I don’t already know. We probably would have still been together now if I wasn’t such an idiot."

As time passed, he began to miss you and being in a relationship with you. He longed for your company and missed all the time you had shared. Every day, he regretted hurting you and wished he could’ve fixed the relationship.

“Well, I don’t think it’s too late to properly apologize. Besides, that was years ago, I’m sure she is probably over it by now.”

“Oh, I know for a fact she is not. I really broke her heart, and she is not just going to move on from that.”

You were not over it. You still get triggered when you think of him. Even now, you don’t want to forgive him at all.

But another part of you still missed him.

You often imagined how life would have been if he never cheated. You envisioned feeling happy and fulfilled being with him. But he made his choice, and it was to not be with you.

“I wish I could just-”

He stopped as he noticed you laughing with one of your male coworkers. You were sitting pretty close to him and looked like you were really intoxicated. You were pretty much a lightweight and tended to get pretty “friendly” when drunk.

Hendery felt a little jealous seeing you with someone else. But he knew you guys haven’t been with each other in a very long time, so of course you would move on from him. It still hurts to see you with someone else.

“Dude, you're staring way too hard at her,” Yangyang said.

“No, I’m not,” Hendery replied as he looked away from you.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

"So much," Hendery replied with a sigh.

“Listen, I say you go talk to her and try to work things out. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, give her a better apology than before.”

He was right.

The night you and Hendery broke up, he was too intoxicated to even give you a proper apology.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to talk to her right now-”

“Woah, do you really think it’s a good idea? She looks pretty occupied now, and maybe you should talk to her after-”

“No, it has to be now. What if I don’t get an opportunity like this again? This is my sign to do it now.”

Yangyang nodded his head as he watched how Hendery made his way over to your table.

As he approached you, your whole demeanor started to change. You went from being carefree and happy to anxious and irritated.

“Unbelievable. I thought I never had to see your face again,” you said in a harsh but serious tone.

All your coworkers at the table noticed the shift in your behavior. They had never seen you so angry before.

“Look, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but can I-”

“Can you what? Make a fool out of me for the 2nd time now? Not in front of my friends. I would appreciate it if you leave now.”

Things started to get uncomfortable not only for you but also for your coworkers.

“It will just take like 5 minutes. Can we please just talk-”

“What is there to talk about? Just leave me alone. You’re pissing me off even more than before."

The guy sitting next to you noticed how your body was starting to shake a little. He didn’t know why the two of you broke up, but he saw that he was making you feel uncomfortable. So, he decided to do something about it. He sat up and placed a hand on Hendery's shoulder.

“Hey man, just back off, alright? She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you. So I suggest you—"

Before things escalated, Yangyang intervened to break up the altercation between your coworker and Hendery before things got messier.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but let's just step away for a moment," Yangyang said, attempting to defuse the situation.

"Wait," you exclaimed.

Everyone at the table turned their attention to you, curious to hear what you had to say.

"Um, that won’t be necessary, Yangyang. I'll hear Hendery out and see what he has to say," you announced.

Your coworkers were shocked by your decision, and the one who had tried to defend you earlier asked if you were sure about it. You nodded in response.

Yangyang stepped away, and you followed Hendery to a table in the back where your conversation wouldn't be overheard.

Hendery stared at you, struggling to find the right words. You were just as beautiful and intimidating as ever.

“Uh, are you going to say anything to me or just keep on being a creep?” you asked.

He let out a soft chuckle and said, “Nah, it's just you're still so pretty, and you look so different now.”

“Yeah, it's because I've been happier since we broke up.”

“Ouch, okay, I deserve that. Look, what I did to you was so wrong, and I don’t know how I can make it up to you. I'm seriously sorry for—”

“Oh, don’t act like you care now. You know, after we broke up, a small part of me was waiting for you to come back to try and make things right, and I hated myself for feeling that way. To have given you the benefit of the doubt, but you know what you did instead?”

He looked worried about what you were going to say next.

“You decided to go back to your old ways and sleep with every girl you see, and you didn’t even try to text or call to give me a proper apology. It’s almost as if you wanted to find a reason to break up with me so you could go back to being a whore again.”

Hendery was a little hurt and taken aback by what you said. He knew you were a little buzzed and tended to speak bluntly because of it.

He hated that you were right about everything.

“Okay, you’re right. I was being childish, and you have every right to hate my guts right now. But that's why I want to make things right between us—”

“Make things right? Are you serious? You made me feel stupid all these years, I thought that I did something wrong and I wasn't enough for you. You made it seem like I was the problem.”

“Listen, I know none of this is okay, and you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to hear me say that I’m sorry.”

You started to get up and said, “Well, you should’ve told me that seven years ago.”

He stopped you from walking away, grabbed your wrist, and said, “Look, I shouldn’t have cheated on you, and I should’ve just communicated how I was feeling about you. Instead, I was too much of a coward to say anything. I am a different person now.”

You rolled your eyes, as if you were going to believe anything he said. He was just saying this so he could find his way back into your life.

“Yeah, right? You've changed?”

You sat back down in your chair and crossed your arms at him.

“Actually, I have. I stopped drinking so much that I only do it on occasion now. I even went to therapy, and it really helped me out a lot. Probably the best thing I could’ve done for myself.”

He said this with such conviction, and it seemed genuine. He maintained eye contact with you, and that’s how you know he was telling the truth. Whenever he lied, he could never look at you in the eye.

You were starting to believe him.

Maybe you were being too harsh on him. It had been over seven years since you last saw each other, and people can change in that amount of time.

Even someone like Hendery.

You finally started to come around and cracked a little smile.

“Fine, I guess you have changed. The old you wouldn't have tried this hard to apologize to me.”

He was shocked when you initially turned around and decided to forgive him after all this time.

"So, do you forgive me?" he asked.

You were a little hesitant at first but decided to nod your head yes. He let out a sigh of relief as if a weight was being lifted off his chest.

“I forgive you, but it will take some time for me to accept you back into my life. I mean, we were really good friends, and you messed up our friendship as well.”

“I know, and I want to apologize for that too. My sisters would come after me for being such an idiot.”

“Oh yeah, how are your sisters? I haven’t talked to them in so long since I moved away.”

“They’re good! They always hoped that we would someday be good friends again!”

You guys began to catch up more, and it was starting to get pretty late. Your coworkers approached you and asked if you were coming with them, and you said you were going to stay back and talk with Hendery some more. As time went on, Yangyang had left too because he didn't want to interrupt what was going on between you two.

It was now midnight, and you had no ride home.

“Hey, I have no problem taking you home. Unless you’re not comfortable with that—”

“No, I don't mind. I don’t live too far away, so you can drop me off.”

He nodded, and you got into his car and sat in the passenger seat. You guided him on how to get there. Suddenly, it started to rain really hard, and it was getting harder for him to maneuver his way around. Eventually, you arrived at your place. You offered him to come inside, just until the rain started to dial down. He agreed, and you both ran inside into your apartment building. You made it into your room and put all your stuff down.

You were so focused on getting inside that you didn’t realize how Hendery's clothes were drenched in the rain, and his hair was wet. His wet clothes were clinging to his figure, making you see the outline of his body. He pushed his long hair back to stop it from covering his face.

Why were you still so attracted to him?

“Hey, your clothes are very wet. I can put them in the dryer for you.”

"Aw, thanks, I appreciate it."

He starts to take off his shirt, but you stop him.

"Whoa, you don’t have to do that in front of me. Just go to the laundry room, and I'll find you a t-shirt or something."

"Oh, please, don’t act like you've never seen my body before. It's just like when we were roommates, right?"

"Yeah, but it’s different now... just go put your clothes away."

He agreed and put his clothes in the dryer. You gave him one of your baggy shirts to wear while he waited. You sat on the couch and got comfortable, keeping a normal distance from each other. You talked more about life and what you've both been up to since being apart.

"So, whatever happened to Lia? How long did that last?" You said playfully, knowing their relationship was bound to end.

"We didn’t even last a week."

You started laughing hard, and he chuckled a bit too. You both knew he never actually liked her and just jumped at the first opportunity he had.

"Of course, it didn’t. What happened with that?"

"So, apparently, I was too 'boring' for her, and she wanted to be with someone more fun."

"That’s so stupid. God, I really never liked her. Still don’t know how you tolerated her."

It was crazy how you both went right back to the way things were. It felt purely platonic between the two of you, and you could freely talk about anything. It didn’t feel weird or awkward at all. You both were mature about the situation.

"So, what about you? I'm sure you dated some guys after we broke up."

"Surprisingly, not really. I had to heal and work on myself afterward. I didn’t meet anyone until after I graduated. I tried hookups, but they didn’t really help. So, I waited to be in a relationship with someone, and I did."

Hendery was very curious about what you meant by that.

"So, what happened with him?"

“So, the relationship ended a couple of months ago, and it was pretty off and on. We just weren't going to work out since I had to move back here. We didn’t want to do long distance, so we just broke up.”

You were so deep into the conversation that you didn’t notice how close Hendery sat next to you. He was only a knee's length away. He patted your shoulder and said, “Dang, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Ah, it’s alright. It was completely mutual, and yeah, it still hurts me a little. That’s why I went out with my coworkers to drink tonight, to try and ease the pain.”

“Wait, really? Now I feel even worse. I ruined your night out by dumping myself back into your life—”

You grabbed onto his arm and said, “Oh no, you didn’t ruin anything. Actually, a part of me is glad you did that. I missed having my best friend in my life.”

He smiled and got up from the couch, walking around your place a little bit. He looked at all the pictures on your wall and noticed the cracked photo frame that he broke the night of your breakup. It was a photo of you and him when you were kids.

“Whoa, you still have this? I can’t believe I hurt you that night. I really shouldn’t have done that.”

You got up and made your way over to him, replying, “Yeah, it’s fine. Plus, I struggle to let go of things, so I've kept it ever since. Also, look, the scar is still there too.”

You lifted up your sleeves and showed your arm to him. He had a guilty look on his face, and all this just made him feel even worse. He still couldn’t believe that he put his hands on you. Even though the scar was just a little scratch, he still felt terrible. He looked over to another photo, and it seemed to be a photo of you and your ex. He picked it up and said, “I’m assuming this was him?”

“Yeah, I tell myself I will get rid of it, but I just can’t bring myself to do it, you know?”

Hendery knew exactly what you were talking about. He still had photos of the two of you when you were dating. He looked back on them every now and then to reminisce on all the good memories you had together. He knew that you were in a vulnerable state in your life right now. You broke up with your boyfriend a long time ago, and you’re still trying to cope with it.

But, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted you right now.

He feels terrible, but he can’t help it. You were wearing an off-the-shoulder baggy shirt with some shorts. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He felt like such a creep for having such lewd thoughts about you, and he didn’t know how long he could take it anymore.

"So, where's your room?"

"Nice try, but that's not going to work on me."

"What are you talking about? You're the one making it weird. I just asked a simple question."

Maybe he was right. You had been in your head a lot recently, and you tended to overanalyze things. He just wanted you to give him a little tour of your new place. You led him into your room. He saw that you kept it very simple, and instead of having lights on, you had candles lighting up your room. You both decided to chill there and play some music. Then, you started to talk more about life and didn’t even realize you were both lying side by side with each other on the bed. He then noticed a mysterious box you had next to your bedside table.

"Hey, what’s in that box next to you?"

You began to panic and forgot to put it away in your drawers. You couldn’t think of an excuse off the top of your head, and you said, “Oh, it’s nothing, you just reminded me to put it away-”

"Okay, now I know you’re lying to me because you always stumble on your words when you do that. Let me see it."

He tried to reach over you to get it, but you stopped and started to play fight with him. You were trying to push him back enough so you could secretly hide it somewhere when he wasn’t looking. You don’t know how this happened, but he is now on top of you and pinned your hands above your head with one of his hands. You were squirming under him and started to laugh at your struggle.

"Let go of me now."

"Aww, but where's the fun in that? Let’s see what you’re hiding in here."

He grabbed the box and opened it, and to his surprise, he saw what you were trying to hide so desperately.

All of your sex toys.

When you were together, you never really had any, probably just one or two. But this box was filled with so many things, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Wow, I didn’t know you liked all of this."

You started to become embarrassed by this situation, and the position you were in wasn’t making it any better.

“L-look, it’s not what y-you think. I-”

“Oh, don’t try and explain yourself now, sweetie. I knew secretly you were probably into a lot of things.”

He knelt down to your ear and whispered, “But I couldn’t ever imagine you being this much of a slut.”

Shivers ran down your spine as you felt your body go limp. It’s been forever since he talked to you like this before. It was as if his whole demeanor had changed, and he was starting to get serious.

“Well, people change, you know? I’m not the same person you used to be,” you said in a flirtatious manner.

He felt himself start to become hard for you. The way you looked so fragile and weak under him, with you pinned down with one of his hands, was really doing something to him.

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“Oh, really now? I want to see this new version of you, so let me just-”

You had some handcuffs in the box, and he decided to cuff you to the headboard of the bed.

“U-um, what are you doing? I don’t think we should-”

“Come on, baby, don’t act like you don’t miss this. I mean, look at you down there?”

He took off your shorts, and he saw a wet spot formed in your panties. You were too embarrassed to say anything.

“Mhm, don’t act all shy now. This is only just the beginning. Let’s try using this on you-”

He lowered your underwear down past your ankles, and now you’re left in nothing but your t-shirt. He grabbed one of your vibrators and started to use it on you. You let out a loud moan from the sudden sensation you were feeling on your clit.

“P-please, slow it d-down-”

He brought it a level higher than before and started to laugh at you. He enjoyed seeing you trying to keep it together.

“God, you look so pathetic right now, and it’s actually kind of cute.”

You started to tense up a bit from his words. He started to spice things up by shoving one of his fingers into your aching pussy. You let out a loud scream and quickly covered your mouth with his other hand.

“Shh, baby, you don’t want your neighbors to find out what’s going on here. I need you to be good for me and try to keep your voice down,” he said in such a calming tone that it was starting to put you at ease. But you spoke too soon, and he added a second finger into your cunt. He was thrusting into you at a rough and hard pace. Tears started to form in your eyes as you bit your lips to hold back your moans.

“F-fuck, if you k-keep this up I’m going to-”

“I know, so why don’t you cum for me, okay?”

You nodded his head as he set your vibrator to the highest setting and continued fingering you at a rougher pace. When you came, he removed the toy and his fingers, then used his mouth to clean everything up. This took you a little off guard, but you felt satisfied.

You couldn’t believe this was happening right now.

He took off your handcuffs, and you felt like you were going to pass out. But Hendery took off his shirt and lowered his sweatpants down to his knees. You could see his hard-on protruding through his boxers, clearly aroused by you.

“Oh, we are not done yet, sweetheart. I’m not fully satisfied yet, and I can’t hold back anymore.”

He took off your shirt, and your chest was exposed to him. You felt the cold air on you, and that made your nipples start to perk up.

“You look so pretty, how can I ever resist you?”

He grabbed both of your legs and placed them over his shoulders, shoving his cock into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a loud moan. He wasn’t slowing down either. He was desperate for you, pounding into you with a rough and hard pace. He lowered his head to your chest and started to kiss all over your tits. He couldn’t help himself, and he had been wanting to do this to you all night. He started sucking on one of them while groping and squeezing the other with his hand. Then, he switched and repeated the same actions on the other boob. You were practically seeing stars at this point and didn’t know how long you could last.

“P-please, I-I don’t know if I can-”

“Yes, you can. You've done it before in my mouth, and now I want you to cum all over my cock.”

He was being so blunt, and he knew exactly what he wanted from you. He began thrusting aggressively into you and wrapped his hand around your neck. He felt you tighten up when he started to choke you, and he took note of that.

“Aww, you like this, don’t you, baby? You’re so needy for me, it’s adorable.”

There he goes again, making you feel all flustered for him. It was starting to become humiliating for you.

“Ah, shit, I’m going to cum soon. Do it at the same time with me, please,” Hendery exclaimed.

You nodded your head, and he went faster than before. The headboard of your bed was aggressively hitting the back of your wall. You knew for a fact that your neighbors were hearing all of this right now. But you didn’t care. You were lost in your own world with him, and nothing else mattered to you right now. You both started to be loud for each other and you eventually both finished at the same time. He was bottoming out inside of you and didn’t stop until he was satisfied.

You both fell back, side by side. Looking up at the ceiling, you started to question if this was really happening. Secretly, you both had thought about this before. Hendery turned to face you and said,

“Hey, I wanted to say I’m sorry for putting the moves on you this fast. I mean, you're still recovering from a breakup and-”

You stopped him from talking by kissing him. He was a little startled by this, but he wrapped his arm behind your waist and brought you closer to him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything. Tonight was amazing, and it was the first time in a very long time I had someone make me feel this good.”

“So what about your ex?”

“Well, he was… interesting to say the least.”

“He didn’t make you cum sometimes, huh?”

You punched his arm playfully and began to laugh. “Yeah, he wouldn’t, and sometimes it was so bad I had to imagine it was -”

Shit, why did you have to say that? You were practically delirious because not only were you still trying to process what just happened, but it was 3 am, and you said anything that came to mind since you were very tired.

“Wait, what?”

“Uh, nothing…”

He grabbed your chin and had that condescending look on his face. “Come on, honey, tell me what you were going to say.”

You felt flustered again and said, “Fine, I sometimes would think about you so I could finish afterward.”

“Oh wow, to be honest, I would sometimes think about you too.”

You playfully slapped his arm and said, “Pervert.”

“Says the one who used to secretly watch me all the time.”

“Touche.”

You both laughed it off and cuddled for the rest of the night. You wondered what happens next from here. You both still have feelings for each other and didn’t want to walk away from this.

“So, how do you want to take things from here?” You said.

“Well, I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. If you just want this to be it, I’m completely okay with that.”

“No, I missed what we had, and I don’t want this to be the end.”

“So, what are you saying?”

You sat up from the bed, and he did the same as well. You crossed your legs and faced him in his direction. You grabbed his hands and looked at him, saying, “I want us to get back together.”

Hendery had a worried look on his face.

“Are you sure about this? I really hurt you last time, and I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

“I’m completely sure now, and I know you've changed since the last time we saw each other.”

He nodded his head and gave you a kiss on the lips. He spent the night at your place, and from that point on, you took things slow. You were both just happy that in the end, you found each other again…

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starlightkun · 1 year ago

Text

➠ word count: 22.0k ➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried ➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds ➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like ➠ series masterlist

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.

It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):

Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;

Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;

Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and

You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.

Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.

Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”

“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.

“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”

Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”

This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.

You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.

“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”

Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.

“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.

“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”

“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.

“Why not?”

“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”

“So she was lying about doing something?”

Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.

“No.”

“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”

Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”

“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.

“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.

“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”

“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.

The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”

“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.

“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.

Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?

Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.

Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.

You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.

The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.

Dr. Son.’

An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.

And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.

‘Dr. Son:

Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.

Y/L/N Y/N.’

Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.

You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”

“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.

“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”

To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.

You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.

“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”

The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”

“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”

“Huh.”

“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”

“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.

You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”

“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”

“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”

“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”

“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”

He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”

“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”

“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”

“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”

“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”

“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”

His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”

“But still… you’re so…”

“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”

“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.

You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]

[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]

[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]

[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]

[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]

[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]

[you: he asked me to? i guess?]

[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]

[you: why not????????]

[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]

[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]

[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]

[you: bro???]

[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]

[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]

[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.

“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.

He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”

He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.

“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”

“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.

Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.

“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”

“Does he always suck?”

“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.

“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”

“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.

Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.

You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”

Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”

“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”

Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”

You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.

You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”

They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.

With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.

Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.

You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.

Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.

“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.

All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.

“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”

“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”

“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”

You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”

“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.

The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.

Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.

Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.

Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”

“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.

“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”

“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”

“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.

An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.

The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”

A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”

You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.

“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.

“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.

“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”

“I see.”

“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.

Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”

He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.

“How often do you have away games?” You asked.

“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”

His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—

A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

He joked, “Curfew?”

You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”

“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”

“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.

“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”

“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”

“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”

“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”

“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.

“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.

“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”

He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.

“Then what was it like?”

“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”

You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.

“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”

“Famous last words...”

“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.

Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.

“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”

Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.

“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.

Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.

You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.

Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”

“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.

You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.

“So you did find a costume.”

“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”

“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”

“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”

“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”

Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”

You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”

“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.

“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”

You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.

“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”

“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.

Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.

“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.

“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.

“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”

Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.

“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.

“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”

Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.

“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.

The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”

“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.

You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.

Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.

“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”

Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”

The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.

“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”

He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.

“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.

“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.

“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.

“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.

“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”

“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.

You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?

“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.

A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.

“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”

“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”

He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.

You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”

His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”

“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.

Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.

So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.

You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.

Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”

“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”

“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.

“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?”

“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”

“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”

“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”

“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”

“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”

His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.

“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.

“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.

“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”

“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.

Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.

“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.

The person knocked again, harder.

“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.

“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.

Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.

You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”

“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”

You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”

“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.

“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.

“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”

“Right.”

“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”

“How he got the invite.”

“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.

“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”

The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.

Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.

Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”

You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.

“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.

You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.

“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”

“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”

You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”

“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.

“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”

“Okay…”

Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.

“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”

He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”

“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.

Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”

“Oh. Will do.”

You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”

You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.

Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.

“What do you need? Your bag?”

“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.

He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.

Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.

The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.

The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.

Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—

Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.

“Mm?”

Too late.

Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”

“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”

“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.

“I was more than happy to sit with you.”

“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”

Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.

“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.

“What?”

“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.

Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”

“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.

“Medication,” you nodded.

“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”

“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.

“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.

“The music...”

“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”

“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”

“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”

“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”

“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”

“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”

“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.

“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.

The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”

“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.

“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”

“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”

“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.

You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.

“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.

“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.

He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”

“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.

Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.

Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”

“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.

“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”

“Blood sugar too?”

“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”

The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”

“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.

“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”

“You’re…”

“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”

“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.

Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”

“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”

“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”

“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”

His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.

Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.

“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”

Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.

Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.

“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.

“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”

“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”

It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.

“Yeah, of course.”

You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.

He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.

The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.

“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.

You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”

“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”

Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”

The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.

As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.

“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.

“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.

If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.

“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.

“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”

Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”

Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.

But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.

The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.

“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”

You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”

“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.

Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.

Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.

You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”

He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”

Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.

Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”

And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.

“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”

Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.

“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

“But this is good, too. Better, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”

You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.

A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”

“Well...”

You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”

“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”

“You’re not in a frat...”

“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”

Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”

“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”

“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.

He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”

“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.

“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.

Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.

“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.

After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.

“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”

He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”

You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”

“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”

“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”

You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”

His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.

“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”

Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.

His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.

You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.

Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.

“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.

Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.

But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.

Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.

“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”

“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”

“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.

“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.

You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—

A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.

Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”

“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.

“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”

Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.

You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.

“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.

“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”

“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.

“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”

“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”

“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”

“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.

“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”

“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.

Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”

“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”

“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.

As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.

Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.

“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.

He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”

“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.

Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”

You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”

“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”

“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.

“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.

“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”

“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.

“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.

You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”

“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”

“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”

The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.

At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.

The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.

Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”

He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”

“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”

“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”

You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”

“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.

While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.

“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.

“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”

The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”

“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”

After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”

“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”

The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.

However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”

“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.

“Okay. Go for it.”

He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”

You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”

“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”

“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.

“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.

Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.

“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.

“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”

You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”

“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.

“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.

“Always the Bible.”

“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”

“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”

Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”

“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”

Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”

He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”

“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”

“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”

Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”

“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”

You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”

Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.

Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.

Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.

“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”

So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”

“Will do.”

You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.

You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.

“So polite,” you quipped.

You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

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dirtykpopsnaps · 2 years ago

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Here’s the request for Hendery!

#dirty kpop snaps #kpop snaps #dirtysnaps #hendery wong #hendery wong smut #wong kunhang #wong kunhang smut #nct hendery #nct hendery smut #hendery wayv #hendery wayv smut #nct #nct smut #wayv #wayv smut

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pasteidolons · 3 months ago

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𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, hong jisoo, xu minghao, choi hansol warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, major character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 20k

taglist: @reiofsuns2001, @lovrehani, @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦𝔦

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 7𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Sometime after the incident between Jihoon 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. Youngmin had been reluctant to return to the battlefields, but after several conversations with Jihoon, he’d become convinced otherwise.

Until the preparations to siege Pyongyang were in place, you would be set up in Hanseong to train. Hansol had gone to a town some ways south to train in Tang weaponry with one of Wong Kunhang’s assistants, Hao Chujun. Seungcheol and Soonyoung 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 Gukseon Kwak is?” A voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Kim Dohoon 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.”

Dohoon is hesitant to respond as he stays quiet, eventually speaking again, “You’re probably right, huh? I mean, Commander Lee is still giving his all for him. I’m sure he’ll return to his old self soon enough.” With that, Dohoon 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. Youngmin 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 Dohoon, 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. Youngmin 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 Jihoon?” 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 Hansol, he’s off with Hao Chujun in Kyeju, you know.”

“Ah…” Youngmin sighs, “I keep giving Jihoon 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.”

Youngmin 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.”

Youngmin responds with a melancholy laugh, “Don’t you think you’re asking quite a bit of him?”

“... What do you mean?”

Before Youngmin has any time to answer, the door opens with a snap, Wonwoo and Jihoon briskly walking inside, their faces tense and drawn.

“We have to go. Now.” Jihoon 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,” Wonwoo says solemnly.

“If it were only twenty or thirty then we could take them… But we don’t have time to call Hansol and his men. Guess we’ll have to come up with something here. You two take Youngmin and go on ahead,” Jihoon 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,” Wonwoo says as both you and he move toward the door in an effort to block it should Jihoon try to get out.

Youngmin, having been in quiet contemplation since their arrival, speaks out, “You needn't do that, Jihoon. I’ll go and have them take me to their headquarters.”

“What the hell?!” Jihoon shouts out incredulously, “You might as well just paint a target on your chest!”

“I won’t introduce myself as Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang, of course,” Youngmin 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 Wonwoo lay shocked into silence, Jihoon 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.” Jihoon’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, Youngmin’s expression doesn’t change.

“I’ve made my decision. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

Jihoons 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?!” Jihoon 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 Youngmin, 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 Youngmin’s impassable calm like wind against a mountain.

“This is a direct order!” Youngmin says sternly as Jihoon’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.” Jihoon stumbles back a step or two at the force of Youngmin’s voice.

“You’re going to tell me what to do…? What the hell is this?!” Jihoon asks near incredulously.

“Aren’t your Chief’s orders absolute?” Youngmin 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?”

Jihoon says nothing.

As long as he’d been commander, Jihoon 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 Youngmin had counted on that fact. He meant to do it to keep Jihoon alive.

Youngmin looks to you and Wonwoo, stepping a few paces in your direction, “I want you to leave with Jihoon. 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, Wonwoo turns to look at Jihoon.

“Commander… Let’s go.”

He only stands, chewing his lip, until Youngmin lays his hands on his friend’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile.

“Hey, Jihoon… Let it go. Let me go.” Youngmin 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.”

Jihoon 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,” Youngmin’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 Jihoon to let go.

The room is still before the commander speaks, “Jeon… 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, Wonwoo and Jihoon leave, and Youngmin and you are alone once more.

“Take this with you,” Youngmin 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 Jihoon. 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 gesture you cannot find it within yourself to follow his guidance, “No, I won’t run. I want to go with Jihoon. 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 Youngmin 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, Jihoon and Wonwoo return. They gather you and the rest of the men in an outer courtyard on the premises, including Junghwan and Dohoon.

“What?!” Junghwan shouts, “We’re going to leave Chief behind? Is that true Commander?!”

“Chief’s orders,” Jihoon 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!” Junghwan insists, “At least here, I could remain by his si–”

“I said, ‘Chief’s orders’! Or do you have shit in your ears?!” Jihoon snaps, “Don’t you dare put Youngmin’s efforts in vain with your stupid suggestions!”

Junghwan looks as if he wants to respond, but instead he looks down as he tightens his fists and shakes.

Just then, Dohoon 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.”

“Kim Dohoon!” Wonwoo raises his voice, only to be interrupted.

“Dohoon you bastard…” Jihoon frowns, angrily tapping the hilt of his sword, “You really want this steel in your gut right now?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Dohoon’s eyes burn with intense vigor as he glares back at Jihoon. “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!”

Jihoon curls his lip, staring at him for a long moment before unsheathing his blade at his hip.

“Commander!” As the exclamation leaves Wonwoo’s mouth, Jihoon points the tip of the sword toward Dohoon’s throat.

“You said you’ll protect the Chief, right?”

Sweat trickles down Dohoon’s reddened cheeks, “...Yes, I will.”

“Then you’d better keep your goddamn word. No matter what, your eyes don’t leave Kwak, got it?”

Dohoon’s eyes grow wide, trembling for a moment but soon after brim with a fiery determination, “Yes, sir! I, Kim Dohoon, promise to protect the Chief's life, no matter the cost!”

It seems as if he’s convinced Jihoon, as the latter returns his blade to its sheath. “Let’s go.” His words are curt as he nods quickly before leaving the residence behind.

In a short while, Youngmin and Dohoon will hand their terms of surrender to the Goguryeo army. You find yourself looking back over your shoulder many times as you run. Soon, Youngmin will give himself to his enemies. Perhaps, you think time and time again, if you turn around now, you can rescue him,

Wonwoo seems to feel the same way, but Jihoon never once turns back.

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 Youngmin.

“Are you alright?” Wonwoo 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.”

Jihoon, 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?”

Jihoon 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 Yoon?” The soldiers around them begin to scramble for their weapons.

Unfortunately, they aren’t fast enough for Jihoon. 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 Jihoon 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 Youngmin’s going through!”

Jihoon 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, Jihoon and Wonwoo could have made easy work of this small troop of men… But rage and frustration boiling over since you’d left Youngmin had erupted in a torrent of violence.

“You can’t use your powers–!” You call out to Jihoon, 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. Jihoon 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 Wonwoo and Junghwan sweating as they stand silently, watching Jihoon 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 Jihoon himself.

Silence falls over the forest once more, save for the birds that have restarted their chatter,

“Wonwoo… Junghwan… Go see if there’s any more of them.” Desperate to distance themselves from the bloodshed, the two depart quickly after Jihoon’s orders. “You. Go with them.”

Normally you would do as he’d asked and followed after them but now…

“What?” Jihoon 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 gods for two men so honest and determined? It just doesn’t seem fair…

“Was it just so I could give Youngmin 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 his back, pressing your face against his uniform.

“Youngmin 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.”

Jihoon 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 Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang? The dream of helping him is what brought me here in the first place.” Jihoon’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 Kwak… Stop giving me all the shitty jobs.” His voice chokes on a sob and falls silent.

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 10𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The days that followed were somber, and eventually your group returned to Ungjin before regrouping with Hansol in Kyeju. When you arrived in the city, Junghwan mentioned he was going to visit a friend of his, and left. However, you think Junghwan’s just trying to be considerate and give Jihoon some space.

Arriving back at the compound, you’re shocked to see none other than Boo Seungkwan 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,” Jihoon frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m a bit tired of sleeping alone, you know?” Seungkwan 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?” Jihoons words cut through the air.

“Come on, cut me some slack.” Seungkwan 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, Seungkwan?” 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?” Jihoon 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?”

Seungkwan 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 Kwak doing? Too busy to visit me again?”

You flinch at the mention of Youngmin, which causes your body to jolt unexpectedly. Jihoon, 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.” Jihoon 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,” Seungkwan waves his hand, “You’re bragging about his promotion like it’s you out there and not him. But… that’s good to hear. Youngmin’s okay then.” The Hwarang seems to have eased down. It looks as if Youngmin’s well-being is the only thing keeping Seungkwan invested in his own health.

“Look,” Jihoon 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, Jihoon.”

“Who the hell are you calling a liar? I’ve never lied to you about Youngmin.” The tone of their conversation sounds like their usual banter, but you can understand why Junghwan 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 Jihoon and Seungkwan, 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 Junghwan 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 Junghwan 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?” Junghwan questions further, “This may be the last time we step foot in Ungjin.”

“Wasn’t Youngmin just arrested by Goguryeo soldiers in Hanseong?” The person murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d say to Jihoon in a time like this, knowing what everyone’s been through and all.”

Junghwan’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?”

“Junghwan…” 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?” Junghwan 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 Soonyoung? You’re positive?” Junghwan lists off the names of the Hwarang, only making you question the stranger yourself. Is he a friend of theirs? Perhaps Junghwan 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 Seungkwan while you can.”

Jihoon. 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, Jihoon rejoins you and begins to say his farewell to him, “We’ll see you later, Boo. Don’t trouble Namekawa too much.”

“I never do,” Seungkwan shakes his head, “The man just worries too much.”

“Forever the smartass,” Jihoon rolls his eyes jokingly, “Whatever the case, we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Leaving already?” Seungkwan asks, eyebrows raised.

“Goodnight, Seungkwan. Please take care of yourself.” You say with a small smile and begin to turn to leave.

“Hey,” Seungkwan 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 Jihoon 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 Seungkwan, 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 Jihoon 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 Youngmin the next time he’d see Seungkwan… 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 Youngmin.”

“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 Youngmin…”

Yesterday this idea would have been preposterous to Jihoon, what happened to make 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 Chan and Eunseok’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 Jihoon feels compelled to yell at you, is because you know Eunseok and Chan 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.”

“Jihoon…”

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?” Jihoon 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 Junghwan and Wonwoo, the two greeting you quickly.

“Commander, I need to speak with you urgently,” Junghwan says, looking frigid as he approaches Jihoon. “Please let me petition for the clemency of both the Chief and Dohoon! Surely the Goguryeo forces understand what killing Kwak would detail. If we work hard, I’m sure we can find people to cooperate with us. So please–”

Jihoon stares at Junghwan, 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–”

“Jeon, 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 Youngmin’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 Youngmin, but perhaps because the situation seems grim, no one has brought it up.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon soon rejoined Wonwoo and you as you resided in Kyeju, only after he’d settled his affairs for Youngmin’s freedom in Ungjin first. Hansol 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 Wong Kunhang’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!” Wonwoo scoffs, turning to look at Jihoon, “Want me to keep them quiet for you?”

“No.” Jihoon 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.

Youngmin 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 Jihoon, steps forward and offers a bow, “Are you Lee Jihoon? I’ve heard a great deal about you and the Hwarang.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jihoon asks, puzzled.

“Pardon my rudeness, I’m still not fully functional with the language– my name is Wong Kunhang, 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.

Jihoon snorts under his breath and turns away, leaving Kunhang to look on for a moment longer.

“Do you have business with Jihoon?” Wonwoo 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?” Jihoon 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.” Kunhang 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–”

“Wong Kunhang… The Wong Kunhang 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.”

Jihoon 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 Youngmin’s place. No one, no matter the skill, can replace his friend. Still, Kunhang seems to have been expecting to be rebuffed, and continues, showing no sign of being put off by Jihoon'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?” Kunhang speaks plainly, “Besides, there isn’t anyone on our side or theirs who hasn’t heard the name Lee Jihoon. I can’t think of anyone better suited.” His copious praise does nothing to thaw Jihoon, 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,” Kunhang 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. Jihoon, sitting by the fire’s edge, beckons you and Wonwoo over, “We need to talk.” The main bulk of the Hwarang forces are with Hansol heading even more northward, meaning that the only people in the camp were you, Wonwoo, Jihoon and three dozen more Hwarang. “Remember what Kunhang told us earlier?”

“About taking command of the advance guard?” Wonwoo 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?” Wonwoo 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 his lips. Jihoon’s reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. It feels as if Wonwoo had grown attached to the idea of fighting in the same unit as Jihoon. Perhaps the commander is insensitive for either ignoring this sentiment, or not acknowledging it at all.

Wonwoo sighs, resigning himself into a period of deep thought, looking up to Jihoon’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. Jihoon’s hope may be flickering but yours isn’t.

“Fine. Whatever.” Jihoon seems disengaged.

“I should also point out that I think commanding soldiers is a little more than she can handle.” Wonwoo 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.”

Jihoon and you are left alone with the crackling fire as Wonwoo 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 Youngmin was coming back, then I could go out there ready to give my life to win. Just like Chan said– Youngmin 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.

“Junhui 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.” Jihoon huffs, “He was right. So was Mingyu… 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 Youngmin to be off fighting big important battles, winning all sorts of glory… But I let it all blind me, we were played and Youngmin 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 Jihoon 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.

Jihoon 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 Wonwoo, 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. Jihoon 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, Jihoon. 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?” Wong Kunhang frowns, “That’s… unexpected.” He and Jihoon 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.” Jihoon scoffs, “It’s the most opportune moment to take it back.”

“I’m not against going into battle,” Kunhang 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–”

Jihoon 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,” Kunhang 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!” Jihoon 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.”

“Lee… Don’t do that.” Wong Kunhang’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?” Jihoon 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!” Kunhang shouts as Jihoon 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 Jihoon like this, can you really win?

𝔐𝔞𝔶 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,” Jihoon 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.” Jihoon 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 Jihoon’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?!”

Jihoon 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.

Wonwoo runs to the commander, grime and blood smeared across his face, “With another push we should be able to take the gate!”

“Great!” Jihoon shouts, “I believe in you Jeon!”

As Jihoon 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. Jihoon glances at you with a grin as Wonwoo runs up to him.

“Commander! The men we sent to the town head’s home ran into trouble!”

“What?” Jihoon almost sounds confused, “We haven’t seen any real resistance so far.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, “I’m unaware of the details. Should I go see…?”

“No. I’ll go.” Jihoon 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 Jihoon, 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… Hong Jisoo.

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon 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.” Hwan Minhyun, 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,” Jihoon scoffs, “Gaesomun yells jamp and you leap. You sure are dedicated.”

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Lee…” Jisoo 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.”

Jisoo 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,” Minhyun sighs, stepping back once more, “He’s all yours.”

Jihoon 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 Jisoo, their blades rattling against one another as Jisoo block’s the commander’s strike. Then, the demon pushes back and Jihoon is thrown across the hall.

“You’re not getting away,” Jisoo says coolly, his hair turning stark white, just as Jihoon’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. Jihoon brings up his blade at the last second before the strike could wound him.

“You’re slow,” Jisoo 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, Jihoon’s begins to shake under the pressure of the other’s force.

Jisoo’s right, though, Even with his Fury abilities, Jihoon 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!” Jihoon jumps backwards, but not fast enough to escape Jisoo’s blade. It arcs down across the Hwarang’s chest, blood erupting from the gash and splattering to the floor. Jihoon 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?!” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth as he stares daggers at Jisoo standing before him.

Jisoo laughs, almost as if Jihoon 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?” Jihoon gives his own taunting laugh, but Jisoo’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, Jisoo 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.

Jisoo slashes downwards toward Jihoon, 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, Jihoon’s sword cuts through air. In tandem with the strikes, Jisoo moves too fast for the bare eye to see, Jihoon’s margin for error becoming slimmer and slimmer. With another dodge, the Demon slams his riposte into the Hwarang’s shoulder. Jihoon’s robe is torn away, displaying a fresh wound.

“Good… You’re overthinking on how you might kill me,” Jisoo 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 Jihoon 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. Jisoo kicks Jihoon back and as he does, the commander’s hair returns to its natural hue.

“What the hell?!” Jihoon 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 Jihoon, “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!”

Jihoon’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 Youngmin 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.

“Jihoon, 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 Jisoo, “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, Jisoo 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.

Jihoon cries out in pain, not having the strength to lift his sword entirely to block the blow. Then Jisoo’s sword slams into his right shoulder. Jihoon’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,” Jisoo sighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t hold your sword anymore? Where’s that warrior spirit?”

Even though he struggles to draw breath, Jihoon 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. Jisoo 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?!” Jisoo spits, distractedly turning from Jihoon 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 Jisoo 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 Jihoon. “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 Jihoon, “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 Minhyun 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?” Jihoon asks, sweat beading on his forehead.

“We owed favors to Goguryeo. We feel those have now been repaid.” Minhyun 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 Jihoon’s lips, “... Yeah.”

“And I suppose you intend to watch that ship sink?” Minhyun 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 Jihoon’s heart, and you see his face fall.

“We’re knights of the Crown, we fight for them no matter what, right?” Jihoon 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 Youngmin came back.”

Minhyun closed his eyes while Jihoon spoke, he now stands silent, “If Jisoo 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 Jihoon 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.

Wonwoo had come to the rescue in your most dire hour. He quickly helps you lift Jihoon so you can shoulder the weight of his body together as you leave the estate.

Hanseong, the town Jihoon 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, Wong Kunhang’s army, along with the remaining Hwarang, set off to Koksan. Jihoon 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.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 666 - 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Since you’d arrived in Kyeju, you’d buisied yourself with taking care of Jihoon. 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 Jisoo’s blade did not do so easily, or quickly. You find yourself thinking of the battle of Hanseong. After watching Jihoon, 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 Jihoon’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, that'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 Wonwoo, 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 Wong Kunhang speak out as you approach the common area, you also note Wonwoo standing next to him.

“He’s resting at the moment–” You begin, but stop when you hear movement behind you.

“Commander–!” Wonwoo says, rushing to Jihoon’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,” Jihoon gives a short laugh, “You really think I’d die so easily?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he rubs his hand across his face awkwardly, trying to brush away the tears that refuse to stop forming.

“Jihoon,” Kunhang 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 Wong, he’s only just recovered… Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh–” Wonwoo 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!” Kunhang shouts, “Listen to me, Lee Jihoon. 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, Kunhang 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!”

Jihoon’s eyes go wide. The words similarly mirror one of the last things that Chan had said to him. Keeping his head on so that the body can move forward…

“Chan’s ghost back to haunt me,” Jihoon sighs out with a weighted smile, a faraway look in his eyes.

“Is something funny?” Kunhang 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, Jihoon simply stares at him.

“Say what you want!” Kunhang stands his ground, albeit a bit taken aback at the commander’s attitude, “It won’t change my mind!”

“You’re right, Wong. Sorry for worrying you.” He follows his surprisingly genuine apology with a similarly surprising bow.

Kunhang has clearly prepared himself for a variety of reactions from Jihoon, but this had been none of them. For several moments he stands there, too flabbergasted to speak.

“My apologies to you too, Wonwoo. I hear you helped carry me all the way here.”

“Oh no!” Wonwoo shakes his head, “No, it was nothing. Anything for you, sir.”

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 19𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔎𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬�� 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 Wong Kunhang’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, Jihoon has decided to leave Kyeju as soon as he is well enough to march with Kunhang 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.

Hansol’s at the door to greet you the moment you arrive at the estate.

“Commander,” Hansol 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 Hansol looks relieved to be reunited with Jihoon, he frowns and rubs his hand to his forehead. Perhaps fatigue from the battles occurring is beginning to get to him.

Jihoon looks past him to the people standing behind him, “Junghwan, Dohoon, 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 Dohoon 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 Youngmin was… beheaded in Pyongyang.” Hansol steps in after Dohoon fails to compose himself, being ushered aside and consoled by Junghwan.

‘Beheaded.’ You swallow at the word. Youngmin 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 Jihoon 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!” Dohoon exclaims, “Please commander, I deserve to die as well!”

“I as well!” Junghwan 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,” Jihoon 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 Seungcheol and Soonyoung come to visit Jihoon.

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,” Seungcheol 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,” Soonyoung 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,” Jihoon 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 Youngmin’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,” Seungcheol notes and begins to head for the door. Soonyoung nods and heads after him before Jihoon speaks up.

“Soonyoung, do you think you can tell Hansol to come by?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung looks back, “Uh, sure… I’ll go and get him now.” Before he leaves he says one more thing to Jihoon, “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. Jihoon 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, Hansol 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, Jihoon 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?” Hansol asks simply.

“No,” Jihoon 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 Hansol’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?” Jihoon’s lips turn upward into a grin as his sword slides from its scabbard.

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” You cry out as Hansol’s blade is also released, the blade glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

“Stay out of this!” Jihoon says and locks eyes with Hansol. Seconds linger as they remain unmoving, just then they leap towards one another, swords struggling against one another. After a bit, Jihoon 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,” Hansol says and as you look back at him your eyes grow wide.

“Hansol…” 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. Hansol looks to Jihoon, 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.”

Jihoon 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, Jihoon sighs, only allowing Hansol to continue. “Leave the front line to us. You, Jihoon, should remain here and plan our strategies.”

“Fine. The front line’s yours until my wounds heal.”

An honest, “Thank you” leaves Hansol, 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 Jihoon to give a short bow, then leaves. As soon as the door closes, Jihoon’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 Hansol’s actions.

Jihoon 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…”

“Jihoon?” 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 Jihoon’s injuries heal, it’s early autumn. Battles still rage along the fronts, and Silla inches nearer and nearer towards its goal. Jihoon hasn’t received any orders of late, but you feel that that’s about to change when you hear Wonwoo storming down the hallway.

You’re settled in the main room with Jihoon, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junghwan and Dohoon when the doors burst open, Wonwoo shouting, “I have news from Wong Kunhang! He says were to launch an offensive against Pyongyang.”

“Pyongyang? That’s the capital….” Junghwan says seriously, glancing towards Jihoon.

In other words, this may be the push to finally close in on Goguryeo.

“What now then?” Dohoon looks to Jihoon as well.

“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible. No doubt Kunhang has some elaborate plan to route out their forces.” You haven’t seen Jihoon 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,” Seungcheol 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.” Seungcheol 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.

“Seungcheol… you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?” Soonyoung 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,” Wonwoo murmurs.

“No,” Jihoon 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.” Seungcheol 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,” Wonwoo says after Jihoon and Seungcheol have been staring at each other for a moment. “Kunhang 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,” Soonyoung 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,” Junghwan sighs, “The enemy’s getting desperate, and we don’t know what else they’ve got up their sleeves.”

“If we want Kunhang to come back alive, we need to send some reinforcements to go along with him,” Jihoon ascertains.

“I disagree.” Seungcheol frowns. “If we are to win in Pyongyang, we must arrive there at full strength.”

“Are you saying we should abandon Kunhang then?” Hansol 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 Hansol speaks once more, “I will remain with Wong. Without their aid in previous battles none of us would be here. I will go to Tagok Pass. Jihoon, please take the rest of the men to Ongjin.”

“Hansol, you–” Jihoon’s eyes grow wide.

“Then I’ll go and prepare to depart.” Before giving Jihoon a chance to respond, Seungcheol stands quickly and leaves the room.

Soonyoung 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,” Jihoon nods, “That’s probably smart.”

“Be careful, Soonyoung,” you say as he walks past you. He gives you a small smile and a wink, then dashes out the door after Seungcheol.

“Jeon,” Jihoon looks at the man still at the door, “I need you to go and tell Kunhang what we’ve decided.”

“Understood,” Wonwoo says quickly, “I’ll be off as soon as I can.”

Once he leaves, Hansol turns to Jihoon. 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 Youngmin 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.”

Hansol and Jihoon look at one another silently, before Hansol 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.” Jihoon 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.” Hansol smiles, eventually turning to you, “I leave Jihoon 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 Hansol’s eyes, “Please don’t die, Hansol.”

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?” Jihoon’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, Hansol.” 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.” Hansol says calmly and then addresses you, “Thank you for your kind gesture.”

And so, you accompany Jihoon to Ongjin. He’s still gravely concerned about Hansol, thus he’d ordered Wonwoo 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.

��𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 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: Seungcheol and the Fury Corps were nowhere to be found. Soonyoung, 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 Jihoon. “Long time no see, Lee. How are you?”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Qian.”

Later on, you learn that this man is Qian Kun, the Tang navy’s second-in-command. When the Yamoto forces had fired upon Sabi some years earlier, Kun had been in command of the Tang ships that aided the Silla forces on land. While Jihoon 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 Youngmin?” Kun frowns,as Jihoon 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,” Jihoon 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,” Kun 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… Seungcheol and the Fury Corps unreachable… It isn’t hard to put two and two together.

Jihoon and you lock eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing.

“If this continues we may become sidetracked here from our main goal,” Qian states, “Perhaps if we could arrest these murders and restore peace in this area…”

“Kun, think you could leave the murders to me?” The other man opens his mouth to protest, but something in Jihoon’s gaze makes him change his mind and he nods.

“Alright, I’ll leave this one to you. No more questions from me.”

Once Kun returns to his men, you turn to Jihoon, “Do you think it’s Seungcheol…?”

“Can’t say,” Jihoon 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.”

“Jihoon…”

“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, Jihoon 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 Jihoon 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 Kwon Soonyoung steps into the room, “We couldn’t contact you, we were all so worried…”

“Do you know where Jihoon 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,” Soonyoung 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 Seungcheol 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.” Soonyoung 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 Seungcheol meeting with Heo.”

Soonyoung explains that Seungcheol 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 Soonyoung witnessed Seungcheol meeting with your father.

“I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking.”

“It doesn’t mean that Seungcheol 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?” Soonyoung 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!” Soonyoung 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 Soonyoung 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!” Soonyoung 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 Soonyoung 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 Soonyoung 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?!” Soonyoung 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, Soonyoung 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.

“Seungcheol?!” 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.” Seungcheol 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?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Interesting…” Explaining himself had never been one of Seungcheol’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…” Seungcheol 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, “Jihoon 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 Kwon to the Hwarang.”

“Yes. I did.” Seungcheol’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 Kwon will return to the estate soon, you needn’t worry about the future.” Heo shrugs.

“What did you do to Soonyoung?” 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. Soonyoung 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 Seungcheol and your father.

“You alright?” Jihoon 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.” Jihoon smirks.

“I figured you’d be here soon,” Seungcheol 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.” Jihoon’s eyes narrow at Seungcheol, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

“There’s nothing for you in Ongjin.” Seungcheol 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,” Seungcheol 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 Seungcheol smiles, “Ah, they seem to have noticed our intruders.”

“Hey–!” Jihoon’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.” Seungcheol crosses his arms, “All of the Furies that exist in both Kingdoms are gathered here.”

Red eyes surround Soonyoung, Jihoon 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.” Seungcheol interjects, looking at Jihoon. “What do you think, Lee? Would you like to lead this army of Furies against Goguryeo?”

“You know the answer.” With Jihoon having been against Furies from the very beginning, you doubt he’s changed his mind about them.

“So I suppose that ends our negotiation.” Seungcheol sighs, slowly drawing his sword from its scabbard. “Very well…”

You stiffen, yet Jihoon doesn’t move towards his own blade. He remains still, cooly contemplating Seungcheol. Almost as if someone’s dumping white ink on it, Seungcheol’s hair slowly changes to white and he raises his sword.

Instead of swiping at Jihoon 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…” Seungcheol 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.

“Soonyoung–” Jihoon 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, “Seungcheol, this is way too badass for an old guy like you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Well,” Seungcheol 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?”

Jihoon 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?” Jihoon 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 Seungcheol. “You said you wanted to do more research on the Furies in the kingdom of Demons… Why?”

“I saw the end.” Seungcheol 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.” Seungcheol 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.”

Seungcheol’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?” Jihoon 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?” Seungcheol 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.” Jihoon says.

“Well, you don’t win by thinking you’ll win either,” Soonyoung 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 Soonyoung’s face. Seungcheol, 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,” Seungcheol says through grit teeth.

Minhyun’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.

Soonyoung 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 Jihoon as a whisper.

Seungcheol 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, Soonyoung soon following.

Jihoon drops to his knees and takes both of their hands in his own.

“Jihoon… Do you remember?” Seungcheol remineces weakly, “Back when we were at Kwak Hall, we would spend all night talking.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods, “We would say that Youngmin 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?” Seungcheol 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…” Jihoon 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 Soonyoung and Seungcheol 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?” Soonyoung adds in a bright and kind tone, “I mean, you barely had any time to rest since you joined the Hwarang.”

Jihoon 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?”

Soonyoung’s face relaxes as Jihoon snarls back at him. Even in this moment, Jamein’s tender and kind for the benefit of his Chief.

“You must go south.” Seungcheol 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. Seungcheol’s last words are the fait muster of hope for the fate of the Furies.

“Jihoon… Don’t… don’t lose sight of what matters, alright? Being reckless doesn’t work out so well.” Soonyoung’s voice has grown rough and raspy. Jihoon’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.

“Jihoon…” 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 Soonyoung, to Seungcheol… 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,” Jihoon 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 Kunhang 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?”

Jihoon 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 Jihoon. “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.”

Jihoon’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?” Jihoon’s right next to you, but yet his voice sounds so distant.

Before you know it, your body collapses to the ground.

“Hey!” Jihoon shouts out, “You alright?! Hang in there!”

When you regain consciousness, you discover yourself tucked snugly in bed.

“About time you woke up,” Jihoon says as you look around the room. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Ah! Jihoon…” 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,” Jihoon 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 Youngmin, Chan and Eunseok 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, Jihoon.”

“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 Jihoon is trying to make.

“If anything happens while we’re out here, I want you to find him and stay with him.” Jihoon 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.” Jihoon 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 Jihoon’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 Kun and Jihoon 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,” Kun 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,” Jihoon agrees. “Guess we should kick back and relax until then, huh?”

“Even if you’re joking it’s not funny.” Kun frowns, “We’re only giving them more time to reinforce Pyongyang.”

“Sure,” Jihoon 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 Boo.”

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 26𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 You find Jihoon 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 show 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 Youngmin’s grin as Jihoon smiles.

“Well, that’s one more reason not to die, then.”

It’s a burden on him, undoubtedly, but Jihoon 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.

“Hansol has fallen in battle,” Wonwoo reports, his head bowed, “His last words were ‘Leave the rest to Jihoon’...”

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.

Jihoon puts his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving him some words of encouragement, “I’m sorry I put you through that, Jeon. I’m just glad you made it back alive.”

Wonwoo’s eyes grow wide and he looks overcome with emotion, “Th–Thank you sir!”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol lost their lives in Ongjin, and Hansol at Tagok… This means that Jihoon is the only Fury left among the Hwarang.

“It’s been hard already, but I’m pretty sure things are going to get worse,” Jihoon crosses his arms, “You’ve all fought enough, so…”

Wonwoo sets his jaw and looks back at Jihoon, “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!” Junghwan says firmly, “I’ll follow you all the way!”

“Let me accompany you, no matter where it takes us!” Dohoon adds.

“You guys…” Jihoon’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.” Wonwoo smiles at him reassuringly.

You’re sure that if Youngmin 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.” Jihoon’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 Jihoon and the Hwarang.

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