#i want a fury of texts after his shift

[skankhunt44]

So I'm here to kevetch a lil' bit.

Why are there like no resources for transmen out there? Especially about bottom surgery (specificallyimages of finished surgeries)? So my best friend is a dude that happens to be trans (he is "stealth" and doesn't consider himself trans in the most part anymore, just male). He came out to me first. At the time, there were literally no resources online, but it was the age where YouTube still showed nudity. He was debating between phalloplasty and metoidioplasty (sorry, I had to look up the names quick). He always told me he wanted surgery even when we played 'we are a band' at my house. We were, I think, like 6 or 7? I still remember my older brother asking if he wanted surgery, and he said yes. AT SIX! So we go back to YouTube, we'll we find a video of a man who was willing to show his fully done phalloplasty. We watched it and he asked if it looked right, I said I wouldn't be able to tell at all. At that time, I think we were in our mid teens at this point. He ended up getting a phallo (he always calls it that), and he told me a bit ago "I hear so many guys not wanting to do anything or force themselves or the culture seems to pushe metoidioplasty because they don't have enough information on phallo." So I asked him if especially since it's pride if he'd make a blog an answer some questions.

@answersfromtheshadows

So, I decided to tag his blog and let you all please overwhelm him with asks. He works all day, so please 🙏 help me help him get his word out!

👇👇👇Here is his blog 👇👇👇

@answersfromtheshadows

[diazsdimples]

Tommy can remember the day he knew he was going to kill Vincent Gerrard. Or, not kill exactly, but do some serious, irreparable damage to him. He'd kind of figured this day would come, if the way he felt like ripping the old man's mustache right off his face whenever Buck came home upset was anything to go by. He just didn't think it would happen quite so soon. He's held Buck plenty of times after rough shifts, where Gerrard would make him man behind for no other reason than "I want this place clean and perfectly organized. That's what you people do, isn't it?". He's heard enough stories from Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, about the abuse they were all getting but how most of Gerrard's hellfire seemed directed towards Buck.

But nothing could prepare him for the fury he felt when that day arrived.

He'd gotten a text from Eddie, a short and simple "he needs you", and he'd been in his car in a flash. The whole drive he'd been worrying, not sure what he'd be arriving to.

When he gets there, he knows it’s bad. Hen and Chimney are locked in a furious screaming match with Gerrard, their faces all varying shades of puce, and it looks like Hen's about to punch Gerrard in the nose, based off the hand Chimney has wrapped tightly around her wrist.

He spots Eddie and Buck immediately; they're in the locker room and Eddie has his arm around Buck's shoulders. When he looks up and locks eyes with Tommy, he can see the flames of rage licking behind Eddie's eyes. Buck's got his face in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking in a way that tells Tommy that he's crying. Tommy's across the station in 3 quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of Buck and taking his face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheekbones.

"What the hell happened?" he asks Eddie, because Buck's not in any shape to breathe right now, let alone talk.

Eddie doesn't reply immediately, but his jaw ticks and he looks like he's carefully picking his words. Just as he's about to speak, Buck's voice, quiet and broken, cuts through the silence.

"He made me watch."

Tommy's brow furrows in confusion, and a ball of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. Buck swallows convulsively and even Eddie looks like he might throw up. It's bad.

"Watch what?" Tommy asks carefully. He doesn't want to push it, not if Buck isn't up to speaking, but he needs to know.

Eddie speaks up first, and his voice is shaky too.

"We were called to a massive haemorrhage at the Pride Event in West Hollywood. A man and his husband had been attacked by one of those bible bashers that stand there and tell everyone they're going to hell. A bystander said they'd been arguing with him and he pulled a knife. Got the first guy in the stomach, second just above his heart. There was nothing we could do."

Buck takes a deep breath, a whine issuing from the back of his throat. Tommy puts a hand around the back of his neck and rubs soothing circles just below his hairline.

"He made me watch," Buck repeats again, a little louder this time, and Tommy's heart clenches cause he knows, he fucking knows what Buck is going to say next. "He said "ride with Wilson, Buckley. This is a good opportunity for you to increase your medic skills." He knew they weren't going to survive but he made me...." Buck trails off, unable to finish his sentence, and Tommy's vision goes red. He's never hated anyone more than he hates Gerrard right now.

That is, until Buck finishes his sentence.

"He said "you might learn something valuable," but he wasn't talking about the job."

Buck's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles are white, and there's blood under his fingernails. Eddie's got a fistful of Buck's shirt clenched tightly in his fist and he looks like he's doing all he can to not run upstairs and tear Gerrard limb from limb.

There's a ringing in Tommy's ears and everything sounds kind of muffled, like his head is underwater. He's clutching the back of Buck's neck so hard that it's got to be painful, but he can't make himself let go.

When he left the military, Tommy made a vow that he would never take another man's life. But for this - for Gerrard - for what he did to Buck, the light of Tommy's life, he might just make an exception.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 3

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your "date" with Tyler took an unexpected turn, you wake up to see Scott confronting the cowboy about your disappearance. Word Count: 2045 TW: Fluff, Angst, Family Conflict, Confrontation, Yelling, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

“Where the fuck is she, Owens!” 

As your eyes flickered open, you realized you were no longer lying on Tyler’s chest in the bed of his truck. Instead, you were curled in the back seat, one of his merch t-shirts balled up under your head and his jacket draped over your body as a makeshift blanket. Your head was positioned near the passenger side of the truck and, lifting it slightly, you noticed the driver’s door was open. Tyler was standing outside as if he had just climbed out, the little you could see of his surroundings revealing he had driven you back to the motel.

He turned towards whoever had just spoken—the voice was very familiar even though your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t place it—and held up his hands. “Why don’t we all just calm down an—”

“No!” Suddenly, Scott burst into view as he stormed up to Tyler, stopping only when he was practically chest-to-chest with him. Scott towered a good five or six inches over the other man, yet Tyler didn’t as much as flinch as Scott growled in his face. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck is she?”

Tyler stared calmly at Scott’s fuming face for a moment then chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you lose your cool like this before, Scotty. In fact, can’t say I’ve seen much more than a sarcastic sneer from you before. Something must have riled you up real good for you to be in this state.” Tyler’s voice had slowed, his accent becoming twice as heavy as before as he milked every second in an attempt to push Scott’s buttons—and it was working.

Nostrils flaring, Scott yelled, “How about the fact you’ve been alone with my little sister for the past four hours? I’ve been trying to call and text her but she hasn’t answered.” 

You suddenly realized you had tucked your phone into your purse when you left the motel room. The purse that you had then placed on the passenger’s seat when Tyler helped you down after parking in the field so you could both go eat your food in the bed of his truck. The one you had completely forgotten about until just now. Oops.

But Tyler didn’t offer any such explanation. “We were busy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, are you really worried about her, or are you just worried she was having a good time with someone like me?”

“If you laid a single finger on her—”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” The smug grin that had been on Tyler’s face evaporated as he became stone-serious. Whatever game he had been playing was now over. He took a step forward, this sudden shift causing Scott to stumble back in surprise. “You don’t get to play caring, protective older brother when just a few hours ago you basically told her to fuck off because you didn’t want her here. I understand you two might have a complicated history, but family isn’t something you can pick and choose when it's convenient for you. You didn’t want anything to do with her after she traveled all this way just to see you, so you don’t get a say in what she does now.”

Scott recovered slightly, but though he tried to bite back with the same fury as before, it seemed dulled by the force of Tyler’s words. “And you do?”

“No, I don’t. Only she does.” Tyler started to turn towards his open door but then thought better of it and faced Scott again. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, I used to think you were in the wrong truck. That you should be in Tin Man instead of Scarecrow considering how cold and uncaring you seemed. But I was wrong. You may have your fancy degree from a world-class university yet you are too brainless to see that all she’s looking for is just a little of your attention and love. And if you aren’t willing to give that to her, you can’t get mad when she finds someone else who will.”

Scott sneered at Tyler. “You’ve known her for a few hours and you think you know her better than someone who’s known her her entire life?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

The back door to the truck flung open and you blinked up at the bright lights shining in. Tyler stood in the door with a halo of neon light framing his silhouette, anger rolling off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes burned beneath his cowboy hat. However, when he saw you staring up at him, his expression softened. Giving you a small smile, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. You want me to carry you to your room or you think you’re awake enough to walk?”

Stretching to help wake up your limbs from where you had been curled, you sat up. “I can walk.” Ducking your head to hide the bashful smile fluttering on your lips, you added a soft, “Thanks though.” 

Grabbing your purse off the front seat, you started to crawl towards the door when Tyler offered you his hand. You took it and slid out, a small cloud of dust bursting up around your ankles as your boots hit the dirt. Tyler reached back into the truck, grabbed his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders before placing his arm on top of it, hugging you close to his body. The warmth radiating off of him and the smell of his skin made you want to snuggle deeper into him and drift back to sleep. 

Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you after all.

As he began to steer you towards the stairs leading to your room, you noticed Scott standing by the rear of the truck with his arms folded across his chest. The two of you made eye contact for just a moment, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t like the look in your brother’s eyes—the seething anger and blatant disappointment you were used to, but it was that hint of something else that made you turn away and lean your head against Tyler’s shoulder. If you didn’t know Scott better, you would almost say he looked hurt. But that couldn’t be possible because Scott would have to care about you for him to be hurt by Tyler’s words or by seeing you together.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else as Tyler helped you climb the stairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief when your brother disappeared from view, you whispered, “Thank you. For standing up to Scott for me.”

“You heard that?” You nodded against Tyler’s shoulder and you felt him shift beneath you. “Yeah, well, he had the right to be worried about you, but he also needed to be reminded he wasn’t a saint in this situation. Besides, you’re an adult and can spend time with whoever you want.”

You hummed a soft agreement before, a few dozen steps later, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Tyler as you reached the correct door. “Well, this is me.” 

He watched as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Turning to face him, you said, “I know I already said it, but thank you…for everything. I-I really needed that, out in the field. It helped. And while today did not go at all how I expected, I’m actually very happy with how it turned out.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

The two of you continued smiling at each other and you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to do next. But just as you started to close the door, Tyler leaned his shoulder against your door frame and said, “Hey, whether you’re done messing with Scott or not, I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You blinked, butterflies blooming in your chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight. It’s not every day I meet someone like you and I’d like to see more.”

Someone like me? You briefly flashed back to yourself sobbing into his chest in the bed of his truck and wondered what he could have possibly seen in you that he would want to see more of. However, you weren’t going to pass up this chance if he was offering. 

Fidgeting with the strap on your purse, you nodded, “I’d like to see more of you too. Maybe you could let me come on a chase with you or something?”

Tyler’s dimples made your breath catch in your throat as his smile widened. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…I would love to take you on a chase. Show you what it means to wrangle a tornado. How ‘bout I pick you up in the morning around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nodding, Tyler reached out and took your hand. For a moment, you were taken aback. You might not have known each other long, but after everything that had happened tonight, it felt weird for him to end it by shaking your hand. But then he lifted it, his face disappearing beneath the brim of his hat as he dipped his head, and his lips brushed the back of your hand. 

The kiss was brief and faint, just a soft caress on your skin contrasted by the rough scratch of his stubble, yet you felt a jolt of electricity surge up your arm before traveling throughout your entire body. You were so glad your other hand was still clinging to the door because, without it to steady you, you were sure your knees would have given out. 

Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he straightened up and gently lowered your hand to your side, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it. Then, with a tip of his hat and a wink, he said, “Good night,” and strolled back down the walkway towards the stairs.  

You watched him go until he disappeared. Only then did you close your door, leaning heavily on it with a sigh. Your head thudded back against the sturdy metal as you replayed every moment from the night in your head.

What were you doing? Had this really all started as a game, a way to pay Scott back for how he treated you? Now Tyler was planning on picking you up the next morning after you spent most of tonight crying into his chest? And why did you feel so giddy about seeing him again?

Tyler wasn’t at all what you had expected from his videos or from what Scott had said about him. Sure, he had a wild, playful side, but more than that, he was funny and kind and smart and, to top it all off, a perfect gentleman. You can’t remember the last time someone had treated you with so much respect or consideration. He never tried to make a move or insinuate you owed him for the fact that he was doing you a favor. And even when he pulled you into his arms where it would have been easy to take advantage of your emotional state, he had only sought to comfort you and make sure you were okay. 

Then he had to go and kiss your hand like some handsome cowboy prince charming! What the fuck.

Pushing yourself off the door, you went over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink before disappearing into the dingy bathroom. Tyler’s scent still clung to your skin and you almost didn’t want to wash it off. However, the desire to rinse away the remaining tears from your face and feel the hot water streaming down your exhausted, tense muscles won out. You would just have to find another excuse to cozy up to Tyler again tomorrow. Maybe another meal next to him in the back of the truck. Or resting on his shoulder as you both watched the storm clouds roll in. Or pressing yourself against him as you leaned in—

It was only then that the full weight of your situation hit you. This might have started out as an act of revenge on Scott, but the joke was now on you. After only one day, you were falling fast and hard for Tyler Owens.

Part 4 coming 9/2!

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole,

@ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan,

@sunlightmurdock, @xoxabs88xox, @superchatnoir07, @love2write2626, @smoothdogsgirl,

@rebecca0may, @hereiamhereigo, @nerdalicios, @28cnn, @obsessed-fan-alert,

@ddarling-ddearest-ddead, @sehnsuchts-trunken, @taorislover94, @sweetdayme4427, @marisha-3,

@hopeurokays, @lonelysoul50, @bobfloydssunnies, @rebra1863, @mirrorball-6,

@phoenixhalliwell, @mysticalfuncollectorus, @hellkaisersangel, @stoneyggirl2

@how-what-why-huh, @axolotllover225, @holybatflapexpert, @princesssterek, @autumnleaves1991-blog

@cevansbaby-dove, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @fandomprincess1994, @wpdarlingpan, @maverick-wingman

@unknowntoyou2205, @child-of-of-the-sunshine, @dream03, @djs8891, @puttyly

@loserbaby66, @mylovelykelsifer, @onlyangel-444, @omgbrianab, @allonzigiga

@lonelyghosts-stuff

[freshxsturniolo]

4th July - Part 7 - chris sturniolo x femreader

pt1. pt2. pt3. pt4. pt5. pt6.

chris had rolled his eyes at your words, but had kissed you back passionately. when you pulled away he told you he promised he believed you both, and he respected your friendship with carrington. but you couldn’t get the niggling feeling there was something else. you remember his words. you remember him about to say something, or ask you something, when you were at top golf, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to ask him again what it was.

all you held onto was the way you'd carried on making out, him leant against your kitchen table whilst you stood between his legs, his hands roaming your ass and your thighs as you only parted to look each other and let out a laugh.

"we should probably order an uber" you had said in between kisses, he had groaned in protest before giving the back after your thighs a squeeze and pushing himself off the table.

you had finished your drinks and continued chatting as you waited, laughing at everything and anything as you shown him around your house quickly. you saw the way his eyes darkened when you showed him your bedroom, your dark sheets contrast to the white walls and all the things that made it yours. your photos of your friends, the artwork on the walls, he had took it all in with a smile.

you pull up to the bar now however, a comfortable silence on the way there as you text tara and he had rang his brothers to tell them he’d be home late, and as you step out and both stand on the sidewalk before you go inside, he looks down at your hand briefly and you can tell he’s contemplating taking hold of it.

“is it gonna be weird?” he asks, and you frown. “i mean, holding hands? i’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you after a few drinks.”

you smile. “you’ve not been able to take your hands off me sober.”

“preciously" and he moves closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

you smile as you spin around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "no, it wont be weird. im pretty everyone saw us at the party."

chris chuckles, but then his face alters a little. "i know, but this feels different now, don't you think?"

your hearts racing as the energy shifts. yes, this does feel different. before it had been harmless flirtatious fun, even the kiss at the party you could have likely passed off. but since you stepped foot in his house yesterday, it felt like so much more.

"yeah, it does."

he looks at you, his eyes darting around your entire face, before he takes a deep breath. you fury your brows, and he's about to open his mouth to say something but he stops, leans forward and drops you a small kiss. you go onto your tip toes, wrapping your arms around him further before pulling away.

"i could just go home, right now." you whisper, the moment of whatever he wanted to say gone. and he chuckles.

"lets go inside for a couple of drinks, and then i'll take you straight home."

you smile. "my place or yours?"

"my brothers aren't at yours."

"enough said." you smile, before spinning out of his embrace and taking his hand, smiling at a few people smoking cigarettes outside before you walk inside. the comforting smell of the small bar that you have grown to love, the chatter of people all around you.

"i feel nervous" chris whispers into your ear, and you let out a laugh.

"these are your friends too" you say.

"i know but -" and he pauses a second, causing you to look at him. and then he stops. the motion jerking you backwards as he pulls on your hand slightly. you're only a few steps into the bar, and you couldn't see your friends when your eyes first wander in here, but you give him a concerned look.

"is everything okay? are you having second thoughts?" you say, your heart in your chest slightly. was this it? was this what he was trying to say earlier, that niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"no." he shakes his head. then laughs. "god, no. not at all."

your heart alters a little. "so what, chris?"

he smiles, pulling you closer to him. "i really really like you, pretty girl." he whispers. your hearts in your throat again. "like, really like you."

"chris-"

he smiles. "you don't have to say it back, its fine. i just ... want you to know."

now you're laughing, and you place your free hand on the side of his neck. "i really fucking like you too, dumbass."

he doesn't say a word, but he kisses your lips with such force you have to grip his neck to stay upright. when he lets go, he's looking at you with an expression on his face you can't read. but it's too late to ask if theres something else on his mind, because the voice of one person in particular lets you know your friends have spotted you.

"HERE THEY ARE!" the voice booms, followed by a cheer from your friends. you know all eyes are on you, its a small bar usually full of local people, yourselves included, and you blush suddenly at the thought of all the eyes on you.

"is he always like this?" chris says, diverting his eyes to the person in question.

"oh," you chuckle. "this is just the start for carrington."

and then you turn around, dragging chris with you as your eyes find the noise. you were right, heads from other tables have turned but everyone is laughing, and you let out a joking wave as you jokingly strut across to your friends, chris' chuckle loud enough for you to hear behind you.

when you reach the table, taras hands are the first to find yours as you pull away from chris, her eyes wide.

"holy fucking shit, i just watched that WHOLE thing by the door." she says, a smile on her face.

"oh, fuck. did you hear us?" you suddenly feel shy, realising you'd completely lost yourself in him.

she shakes her head. "no, but the look on your face. what did he say?"

you turn around to look at him, his arms currently wrapped around jake in a hug, before a beer is slung into his hand by carrington, who he daps up immediately.

"he really fucking likes me, apparently." you can't help the giggle that escapes you. a fucking giggle. you feel 16 again.

"oh my god" tara squeals, and then she reaches across the table and grabs you your favourite cocktail, already ready and waiting for you. you thank her with a smile and take a sip, before warm hands wrap around your waist. turning your head, you instantly roll your eyes with a laugh.

"sorry, my love. did you expect it to be lover boy?" carrington beams down at you.

"he's not my lover boy, carrington" you say, leaning forward and putting the drink down on the table again, before you spin around in carringtons embrace and properly hug him. he chuckles as he lifts you up off the floor, a squeal escaping your lips as you flick your feet up slightly.

"yeah yeah, whatever." he laughs into your ear before placing you down. "he good to you, yeah?"

"carrington" you say, smacking his arm. "we've been on two dates. calm down."

carrington rolls his eyes before he gives your waist a quick squeeze, and then he's off in the other direction. you laugh and shake your head as you turn to tara.

"how much as he had to drink?" you say, reaching forward and grabbing your own drink again.

"oh god, him and johnnie started hours ago." she rolls her eyes, but theres a smirk on her face too as she takes a sip of her drink. "anyway," she says. "back to mr sturniolo." she says with a giggle, grabbing your hand and dragging you to sit a table away from others ears.

but what you don't see is the prying eyes of chris, staring at you with a mix of what could probably look like sadness, but deep down for some reason he knows its jealousy. he takes a sip from his beer as he watches you engage with carrington, his heart jumping slightly when you spin around and embrace him in a hug, so similar to the way you just did outside with him, and he tries to wash down the feeling with a huge gulp. he feels ridiculous, because he knows you and carrington are friends. at the party, he asked you to be sure, because he'd only met carrington once before and knew how close you had become with him in just a short few months. and at your house earlier on, he was caught off guard more than anything. because fuck, chris wanted you. he wanted you so bad he would call it pathetic, actually. he had never in his life felt this way for anyone, and to see another mans hands on you made him feel queasy.

he notices you sit down with tara at a table not too far away, and he can see as you're both leant in together, laughing and giggling as the two of you talk. he hope its about him, the way even from his position he can see you're blushing slightly, but that niggling feeling in the back of his head tells him maybe it isn't.

but of course it is. the margarita tara threw in your hand is already almost gone and you know its because you're feeling giddy. tara listens as you tell her about top golf, as you tell her about the way you know damn well if carrington hadn't have called, you wouldn't be here right now and you'd have probably had sex in every corner of your house, and you admit how badly you want him, in every way possible.

when you finally walk back up to him just a few minutes later, his eyes bore yours the entire way across the small bar until you reach his side, and when you do, his arm wraps around your back and pulls you into him immediately.

"am i going to have to get used to you and tara running off together?" he says, as you replicate his arm and wrap yours arm around his front.

"im afraid, yes" you giggle, the margarita already flushing through your body. he laughs as he bends down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

"what where you yapping about?" he asks. he knows he has no right to know, and he knows it was risky invading your privacy with such a question, but his heart rate slows down a little once you laugh and lean yourself into his side a little more.

"thats for us to know, and you to find out." you say, before pulling yourself away from him and embracing in a hug with jake and johnnie. chris gulps down the rest of his beer in one, that surge of jealousy running through his body again at the concept of you blushing over another man, and he can't help his actions for the rest of the night.

you know chris had said he wouldn't be able to take his hands off you, but you hadn't realised just how comfortable he would feel in front of all your friends. if you weren't by his side you could see him looking at you every minute or so. if you were by his side, his hand was somewhere on your body, and if you had a quiet moment alone, his lips where always on yours.

"you weren't joking about not being able to keep your hands to yourself" you whisper into his ear as you both stand at the bar now, and his head whips down to look at you immediately, a drunken haze covering his eyes, but just as he's about to say something his eyes look over your shoulder and you instantly turn around, a smile escaping you as carrington comes up close beside you.

what you hadn't caught onto, was that every time chris was staring at you, or every time he had his hands on you, was usually because carrington had had his hands on you not too long before. not that chris doesn't want to touch you anyway, cause god he really does, but he knows he'd likely be less obvious about it if carrington wasn't here too. and he doesn't know why, and he cannot control the way he feels, but maybe its because as much as he wants you, you technically aren't actually his, and you were free to do what you wanted, and those irrational thoughts in his head told him that carrington could likely have you in one swift motion.

"what can i get my girl to drink?" carrington asks, nudging your shoulder. he's far beyond drunk at this point but you do admire the way he can handle himself. you ignore the pet name, at this point this just feels normal for the two of you, but you don't ignore the way chris' fingers start to trace lines against your arm. carrington looks to the side of you and see's chris, and then leans into your ear. "and whats lover boy drinking?"

"carrington" you say, giving his arm a nudge which only erupts him into laughter, which you can't help but follow suit.

chris hand now lands against your elbow, and you feel as he shifts his position slightly so he's standing a little behind you, the corner of his hip pressing into the small of your back.

carrington laughs at you, nudging you back before looking back towards the bar. the barmaid looks at him and is walking over within seconds, and you roll your eyes.

"you dont even need to say anything, that charm of yours is insane" you say, you and chris had been stood here for maybe only two minutes prior, but there was no denying carringtons overall aura always got peoples attention quicker.

"what can i say, baby?" he mocks, giving you a wink.

in the same breath, chris' hip is no longer connected with the small of your back, but instead both his hands are pulling you backwards, slamming you into his chest tightly, before his hands snake around and lift up your t-shirt, a little, letting his thumbs rest just above your waistband.

you're about to turn to look at him, his touch sending goosebumps all around your body, when you feel his mouth close to your ear.

"tell him we're going home" he whisper, and you spin your head around to look at him, his eyes boring into carrington at just the time you hear him speak.

"what you both having?" you hear carrington say, and then it hits you. the touching. the almost clingy behaviour, is because of carrington. a small smirk plays on your lips, before you turn around to meet carringtons eyes.

"i think we're going to head off, actually" you say, and chris dips his finger into the waistband of your jeans after your words. carrington looks you over, before he shrugs and turns back around, paying for the drink he just ordered for himself.

you twist your position ever so slightly to look at chris, and he gives you a smile as he finally removes his hands from your body, a satisfied look across his face.

and its so obvious. he's jealous. he's been jealous all night.

you hadn't paid much attention, but it makes sense. you can't deny that you and carrington are touchy with each other. carringtons love language is most defiantly touch and sometimes you can't help yourself but touch him back. the soft brushes of your hand on his, the random hugs, the shoulder nudges, the close proximity and hand on shoulder as you spoke into each others ear. to you both, and to your friends, its completely platonic, but the reality kicks that regardless of what you say to chris, he still doesn't fully believe you. or maybe he does, and he's trying to prove a point.

when carrington finally turns back around, a drink in hand. you test the waters. you smile, stepping forward away from chris' body, and immediately wrap your arms around carringtons neck. he's drunk and he's simply just carrington, so he throws his arm around your waist. but you cling a little longer than you usually would, before you pull away, dragging your hands down his arms slowly as you do so. a smirk erupts over carringtons face as he holds onto your waist.

"thank you for a great evening" you say, before flicking your hair across your shoulder.

chris laughs behind you.

"you know you're my favourite lady" carrington says, giving your waist a small squeeze. you shrug, acting like its not big deal, and then you finally pull away, turning yourself around to face chris. he's looking at you with such an intense look you can only smirk. his gaze is cut off by carrington, who's holding out his hand to chris to shake it, and you lean back against the bar, arching your back a little so your t-shirt pulls up slightly, and you dim your eyes to look at them both.

"nice to see you man," carrington say, and chris smiles.

"you too"

and then carringtons walking back off over to your group, and chris watches him before he finally divert his eyes to you. you push yourself off the bar, a smirk on your face as you met him in the middle, but you don't touch him.

"you are unbelievable when you are jealous" you say. he smirks.

"and you are unbelievable when you are trying to get a reaction out of me."

you shrug. "i've not idea what you're talking about."

he grabs your hand, pulling you closer to him as he fingers come up to your chin as he nudges you so you're forced to look up at him. your hearts in your mouth as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip.

"remember what i said to you, before i fucked you. in my bed, let me remind you." he eventuates the my and it triggers your memory. but you keep your face neutral, and you look out a shrug. he smirks.

"i said, and quote, oh youre so mine after this"

of course you remembered. how could you forget? that particular sentenced had replayed in your head a 100 times since it happened just yesterday. you smile.

"ah, yes. you never followed up though, did you? it was just words."

he scoffs. "just words?" his grip on your jaw get tighter and you're melting. you're going to literally die under his touch if this teasing and this flirting doesn't end and his lips don't touch yours within the next 20 seconds. but you can't stop yourself.

"i don't recall a moment of you officially making me yours. so from my eyes, im a free woman." but you're looking at him so intensely, that its impossible to miss the way his face switches slightly, and suddenly you're no longer wanting to flirt and you're scared that actually, you've taken it too far. maybe it was too much. you wanted him so bad it was killing you, actually, and you were most defiantly not a free woman. but then he laughs, and he presses his forehead to yours as he drops his hand from your jaw, grabbing hold of your free hand so now both your hands are clasped together.

"i did not want to do this drunk" he starts, and you fear he can hear your heartbeat from here. "i tried to do it earlier, at top golf, but we got interrupted and i felt stupid"

"what, chris?" you say, and you hope he doesn't hear the little shake in your voice. he smiles, pulling his head away from yours and twisting your hands around so he's not just holding them, but he's interlocked each finger with his own.

"i tried to do it earlier, too. but carrington interrupted us and i thought no, maybe this isn't the right time."

"what, chris?" you say again. and he laughs, throwing his head back a little before looking back at you.

"will you actually, genuinely, be mine? i know its quick, but i'm so certain about you. like actually so certain. the way i've felt today watching you, its not normal. so please, will you by my girl?"

you're going to combust, there and then. you don't have words as you crash your lips to his. he's taken by surprise, at first, but then his hands unlock from yours and they're straight to your hair, and your hands are on his waist as you try and reach on your tip toes to kiss him deeper. but its impossible, so you pull away, both breathless slightly, and theres a sweet crimson twinge to his cheeks.

"is that a yes?" he says, and you laugh. you laugh so hard as you throw your arms around his neck.

"of course its a yes, dumbass."

he chuckles as he throws his arms around your back, his thumbs rubbing against you as you linger in his touch for a second, and suddenly being at the bar is the last place you want to be. your mind going to just a few moments before, when he told you to tell carrington you were going home, and you're giddy on top of the already giddy feeling.

"come back to mine, right now" you say, and suddenly his gaze turns different.

"im right behind you" he whispers, before he places a soft kiss on your lips.

and you turn around, oblivious to your friends and not even thinking about saying goodbye, as you drag chris by the hand and outside into the fresh air.

TAGLIST : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss @slut4chriss @valkatriee @sturnsjtop @viiiwwwee @gwennysturniolo @melanch0lybby @sturnioloblues @mattstrombolii @sturnsbella @hearteyes4chris @le4hsblog @nervoussagittarius @chrissypook @sarosfilms @somegirlfromasgard @carringtonsgirlfriend @h3arts4harry @cherib3lla @rebelliousmuse @freshlovah0e @mattslovverr @melaniesturn

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 3

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: After your "date" with Tyler took an unexpected turn, you wake up to see Scott confronting the cowboy about your disappearance. Word Count: 2045 TW: Fluff, Angst, Family Conflict, Confrontation, Yelling, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

“Where the fuck is she, Owens!” 

As your eyes flickered open, you realized you were no longer lying on Tyler’s chest in the bed of his truck. Instead, you were curled in the back seat, one of his merch t-shirts balled up under your head and his jacket draped over your body as a makeshift blanket. Your head was positioned near the passenger side of the truck and, lifting it slightly, you noticed the driver’s door was open. Tyler was standing outside as if he had just climbed out, the little you could see of his surroundings revealing he had driven you back to the motel.

He turned towards whoever had just spoken—the voice was very familiar even though your sleep-hazed mind couldn’t place it—and held up his hands. “Why don’t we all just calm down an—”

“No!” Suddenly, Scott burst into view as he stormed up to Tyler, stopping only when he was practically chest-to-chest with him. Scott towered a good five or six inches over the other man, yet Tyler didn’t as much as flinch as Scott growled in his face. “I asked you a question. Where the fuck is she?”

Tyler stared calmly at Scott’s fuming face for a moment then chuckled. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you lose your cool like this before, Scotty. In fact, can’t say I’ve seen much more than a sarcastic sneer from you before. Something must have riled you up real good for you to be in this state.” Tyler’s voice had slowed, his accent becoming twice as heavy as before as he milked every second in an attempt to push Scott’s buttons—and it was working.

Nostrils flaring, Scott yelled, “How about the fact you’ve been alone with my little sister for the past four hours? I’ve been trying to call and text her but she hasn’t answered.” 

You suddenly realized you had tucked your phone into your purse when you left the motel room. The purse that you had then placed on the passenger’s seat when Tyler helped you down after parking in the field so you could both go eat your food in the bed of his truck. The one you had completely forgotten about until just now. Oops.

But Tyler didn’t offer any such explanation. “We were busy,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, are you really worried about her, or are you just worried she was having a good time with someone like me?”

“If you laid a single finger on her—”

“No. You don’t get to do that.” The smug grin that had been on Tyler’s face evaporated as he became stone-serious. Whatever game he had been playing was now over. He took a step forward, this sudden shift causing Scott to stumble back in surprise. “You don’t get to play caring, protective older brother when just a few hours ago you basically told her to fuck off because you didn’t want her here. I understand you two might have a complicated history, but family isn’t something you can pick and choose when it's convenient for you. You didn’t want anything to do with her after she traveled all this way just to see you, so you don’t get a say in what she does now.”

Scott recovered slightly, but though he tried to bite back with the same fury as before, it seemed dulled by the force of Tyler’s words. “And you do?”

“No, I don’t. Only she does.” Tyler started to turn towards his open door but then thought better of it and faced Scott again. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know, I used to think you were in the wrong truck. That you should be in Tin Man instead of Scarecrow considering how cold and uncaring you seemed. But I was wrong. You may have your fancy degree from a world-class university yet you are too brainless to see that all she’s looking for is just a little of your attention and love. And if you aren’t willing to give that to her, you can’t get mad when she finds someone else who will.”

Scott sneered at Tyler. “You’ve known her for a few hours and you think you know her better than someone who’s known her her entire life?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

The back door to the truck flung open and you blinked up at the bright lights shining in. Tyler stood in the door with a halo of neon light framing his silhouette, anger rolling off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes burned beneath his cowboy hat. However, when he saw you staring up at him, his expression softened. Giving you a small smile, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. You want me to carry you to your room or you think you’re awake enough to walk?”

Stretching to help wake up your limbs from where you had been curled, you sat up. “I can walk.” Ducking your head to hide the bashful smile fluttering on your lips, you added a soft, “Thanks though.” 

Grabbing your purse off the front seat, you started to crawl towards the door when Tyler offered you his hand. You took it and slid out, a small cloud of dust bursting up around your ankles as your boots hit the dirt. Tyler reached back into the truck, grabbed his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders before placing his arm on top of it, hugging you close to his body. The warmth radiating off of him and the smell of his skin made you want to snuggle deeper into him and drift back to sleep. 

Maybe you should have taken him up on his offer to carry you after all.

As he began to steer you towards the stairs leading to your room, you noticed Scott standing by the rear of the truck with his arms folded across his chest. The two of you made eye contact for just a moment, but you quickly looked away. You didn’t like the look in your brother’s eyes—the seething anger and blatant disappointment you were used to, but it was that hint of something else that made you turn away and lean your head against Tyler’s shoulder. If you didn’t know Scott better, you would almost say he looked hurt. But that couldn’t be possible because Scott would have to care about you for him to be hurt by Tyler’s words or by seeing you together.

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything else as Tyler helped you climb the stairs. Letting out a soft sigh of relief when your brother disappeared from view, you whispered, “Thank you. For standing up to Scott for me.”

“You heard that?” You nodded against Tyler’s shoulder and you felt him shift beneath you. “Yeah, well, he had the right to be worried about you, but he also needed to be reminded he wasn’t a saint in this situation. Besides, you’re an adult and can spend time with whoever you want.”

You hummed a soft agreement before, a few dozen steps later, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Tyler as you reached the correct door. “Well, this is me.” 

He watched as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. Turning to face him, you said, “I know I already said it, but thank you…for everything. I-I really needed that, out in the field. It helped. And while today did not go at all how I expected, I’m actually very happy with how it turned out.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” 

The two of you continued smiling at each other and you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to do next. But just as you started to close the door, Tyler leaned his shoulder against your door frame and said, “Hey, whether you’re done messing with Scott or not, I’d like to see you tomorrow.”

You blinked, butterflies blooming in your chest. “R-really?”

“Yeah. I had a really nice time tonight. It’s not every day I meet someone like you and I’d like to see more.”

Someone like me? You briefly flashed back to yourself sobbing into his chest in the bed of his truck and wondered what he could have possibly seen in you that he would want to see more of. However, you weren’t going to pass up this chance if he was offering. 

Fidgeting with the strap on your purse, you nodded, “I’d like to see more of you too. Maybe you could let me come on a chase with you or something?”

Tyler’s dimples made your breath catch in your throat as his smile widened. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more interesting…I would love to take you on a chase. Show you what it means to wrangle a tornado. How ‘bout I pick you up in the morning around 7:30?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Nodding, Tyler reached out and took your hand. For a moment, you were taken aback. You might not have known each other long, but after everything that had happened tonight, it felt weird for him to end it by shaking your hand. But then he lifted it, his face disappearing beneath the brim of his hat as he dipped his head, and his lips brushed the back of your hand. 

The kiss was brief and faint, just a soft caress on your skin contrasted by the rough scratch of his stubble, yet you felt a jolt of electricity surge up your arm before traveling throughout your entire body. You were so glad your other hand was still clinging to the door because, without it to steady you, you were sure your knees would have given out. 

Tyler didn’t seem to notice as he straightened up and gently lowered your hand to your side, giving it a light squeeze before releasing it. Then, with a tip of his hat and a wink, he said, “Good night,” and strolled back down the walkway towards the stairs.  

You watched him go until he disappeared. Only then did you close your door, leaning heavily on it with a sigh. Your head thudded back against the sturdy metal as you replayed every moment from the night in your head.

What were you doing? Had this really all started as a game, a way to pay Scott back for how he treated you? Now Tyler was planning on picking you up the next morning after you spent most of tonight crying into his chest? And why did you feel so giddy about seeing him again?

Tyler wasn’t at all what you had expected from his videos or from what Scott had said about him. Sure, he had a wild, playful side, but more than that, he was funny and kind and smart and, to top it all off, a perfect gentleman. You can’t remember the last time someone had treated you with so much respect or consideration. He never tried to make a move or insinuate you owed him for the fact that he was doing you a favor. And even when he pulled you into his arms where it would have been easy to take advantage of your emotional state, he had only sought to comfort you and make sure you were okay. 

Then he had to go and kiss your hand like some handsome cowboy prince charming! What the fuck.

Pushing yourself off the door, you went over and grabbed a towel off the edge of the sink before disappearing into the dingy bathroom. Tyler’s scent still clung to your skin and you almost didn’t want to wash it off. However, the desire to rinse away the remaining tears from your face and feel the hot water streaming down your exhausted, tense muscles won out. You would just have to find another excuse to cozy up to Tyler again tomorrow. Maybe another meal next to him in the back of the truck. Or resting on his shoulder as you both watched the storm clouds roll in. Or pressing yourself against him as you leaned in—

It was only then that the full weight of your situation hit you. This might have started out as an act of revenge on Scott, but the joke was now on you. After only one day, you were falling fast and hard for Tyler Owens.

Part 4 coming 9/2!

[elryuse]

Yandere Hanni?

Ruined Photos

YANDERE HANNI X MALE READER

The flash from Y/n's camera seemed to momentarily blind Jisoo, a rising starlet with a face like an angel. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, the perfect pout she'd been holding dissolving. Then, a shriek tore through the studio. Jisoo's stylist, a woman perpetually on the verge of a breakdown, rushed at her, face pale.

"The strap! It's broken!" she wailed, frantically trying to cover Jisoo's chest with a flimsy scrap of fabric. The near-wardrobe malfunction sent a jolt of nervous energy through the crew. Y/n, ever the professional, apologized profusely, his brow furrowed in concern. This was the third "accident" in a month.

It had all started subtly. A misplaced earring here, a strategically undone zipper there. Now, full-blown wardrobe malfunctions were plaguing Y/n's photoshoots, all featuring the hottest female idols in Korea. The whispers started – "cursed camera," "bad luck Y/n." His once booming career was starting to sputter.

Meanwhile, Hanni, the Kpop goddess, the woman Y/n had known since her awkward debut days, watched from the sidelines, a manic glint in her usually playful eyes. She'd seen the way other girls – Jisoo included – fluttered their eyelashes at Y/n during shoots. The way their laughter lingered a touch too long after a shared joke. It ignited a cold fury within her, a possessive fire that threatened to consume her.

One evening, after another disastrous shoot with a pouty idol named Seulgi, Y/n slumped onto his couch, the weight of his failing career pressing down on him. His phone buzzed – a text from Hanni. "Feeling down, sunshine photographer?" it read. A small smile tugged at his lips. Hanni was always there for him, a beacon of light in his dark days.

He drove to her apartment, the familiar scent of jasmine incense greeting him as he entered. Hanni, clad in a baggy sweater and sweatpants, a stark contrast to her usual glamorous persona, was curled up on the couch, a tub of ice cream in hand.

"H-hey," Y/n said softly, concern etched on his face. Hanni offered him a spoonful of ice cream, her smile strained. "Everything's going to be alright, Y/n," she said, her voice a low murmur. "I'll help you, I promise."

The "help" came in unexpected ways. Hanni, known for her shrewd business sense, used her connections to secure him private shoots with high-end brands. He photographed her exclusively, their dynamic shifting from professional to…something more. He found himself drawn to the intensity in her eyes, the way she clung to him after shoots, a silent plea in her touch.

Slowly, subtly, Hanni began isolating him. "Those shoots are beneath you," she'd say, her voice laced with a possessiveness he couldn't quite place. "You deserve better. You deserve me." He, drowning in the warmth of her affection after the cold shoulder from the industry, readily agreed.

One night, after a particularly grueling shoot, Hanni led him to a secluded cabin in the woods. It was supposed to be a getaway, a chance to unwind. But the isolation gnawed at Y/n. He missed the camaraderie of the crew, the thrill of a new project. He tried to suggest going back, but Hanni's smile turned brittle.

"Why would you want to leave, Y/n?" she asked, her voice tight. "Don't you see? We're perfect here. Just you and me."

The final blow came when he found a hidden box in the cabin – newspaper clippings about the "accidents" on his shoots, meticulously documented. The realization hit him like a physical blow – Hanni was behind it all. He confronted her, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and betrayal.

Hanni's eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were now cold and calculating. "I had to," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "They were all trying to take you away from me. But you're mine, Y/n. Mine forever."

The cabin became his gilded cage. He was a famous photographer, yes, but only to Hanni's world. The outside world knew him as her personal chronicler, a mere extension of her carefully crafted image. He yearned for the freedom of his old life, but the fear in Hanni's eyes whenever he mentioned leaving kept him chained to her side.

He photographed her beauty, her sadness, her rage, all the while a prisoner of her twisted love. The flash from his camera no longer captured fleeting moments, but a chilling reality. A reality where the line between love and obsession had blurred beyond recognition, Y/n finished his internal monologue with a heavy sigh. He stared out the cabin window, watching the sun dip below the tree line, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. A pang of longing shot through him, a yearning for the bustling city life he'd left behind.

Suddenly, Hanni materialized beside him, her eyes gleaming with a manic intensity. "What are you thinking about, sunshine photographer?" she purred, her voice laced with a sweetness that sent shivers down his spine.

Y/n forced a smile. "Just admiring the view," he lied, his gaze flickering away from hers. He couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth – that he missed the freedom, the creativity of working with different artists.

As if sensing his turmoil, Hanni cupped his face in her soft hands, her touch sending a conflicting wave of warmth and unease through him. "Don't worry, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We have everything we need here. Each other."

The possessiveness in her voice was undeniable, a stark contrast to the playful Hanni he once knew. He wanted to argue, to tell her he craved more, but the fear that flickered in her eyes, a fear of losing him, silenced him. He couldn't bear to see that spark of light extinguish completely.

Later that night, nestled in her arms, a sudden idea struck him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to salvage some semblance of his career within the confines of his gilded cage.

The next morning, he approached Hanni with a tentative proposal. "How about," he began cautiously, "we create a new concept for your next comeback? Something raw, emotional, shot entirely here in the cabin?"

Hanni's eyes widened in surprise, then a slow smile spread across her face. "A love story, shot by your loving boyfriend?" she said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Interesting."

Y/n elaborated on his vision, weaving a narrative of passionate, all-consuming love set against the backdrop of their isolated cabin life. He poured his longing for a normal career into creating a masterpiece, a testament to their "unique" bond.

Hanni listened intently, her possessiveness morphing into a twisted kind of excitement. When he finished, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. "Yes, Y/n," she breathed. "This is perfect. We'll show the world the power of our love."

The photoshoot was intense, charged with an underlying current of fear and obsession. Y/n pushed Hanni to her emotional limits, capturing a vulnerability she'd never shown before. The final product was breathtaking – a series of haunting photographs that laid bare the raw, unfiltered essence of Hanni's love for him.

The comeback was a mega-hit. Fans devoured the concept, praising Hanni's emotional depth and Y/n's masterful storytelling through the lens. He became known as "Hanni's Muse," his career tethered solely to her.

Y/n never regained his old freedom, but he found a twisted satisfaction in his work. He was a prisoner, yes, but a highly respected one. He documented Hanni's every whim, every desire, his camera a constant reminder of the beautiful, terrifying world he now inhabited. He was forever bound to the woman who loved him with a passion as all-consuming as it was deranged. He was Hanni's, and Hanni's alone, forever trapped in the gilded cage of her love.

[quicksilversnails]

One detail about the Your New World ending that I can't get over is how it specifically avoids using the phrase [Slay the Princess].

The red-text dialogue options describe killing her, ending her, destroying her, ridding yourself of her, putting her down, not needing her, and so on, but never, ever, slaying her. Your final choice is to [Destroy her], and afterwards the text simply reads "she's gone".

The choice of wording seems very intentional, right? The game's literally called "Slay the Princess", and the act of killing her is described using those terms for the vast majority of the game. So what does its absence mean for this ending?

My first thought was that it was because you didn't use the Pristine Blade to end her. The lack of blade might play a part in it (as I'll expand on later), but there are already a few cases where you get the option to [Slay the Princess] without the blade, like trying to slay the Shifting Mound before the vessels appear, or slaying the Fury with nothing in Contrarian!Fury. There's something more here, I think.

The choice of words could also represent the emotional separation between you and the Narrator. In this ending, the Narrator is irrelevant to you. He’s “a lesser thing that could never hope to understand you”, an obstacle to your awakening. Your final monologue spares no thought for the well-being of the people inside the world, who the Narrator sacrificed everything in hopes of saving.

Contrast this with A New and Unending Dawn, where you do actually [Slay the Princess] using the Pristine Blade given to you by His construct. You quote the Narrator directly if He told you about you and her containing parts of each other, and you generally can be much more sympathetic towards Him even after His obliteration.

In Your New World, even though you technically destroyed her like He had wanted, you didn't Slay her. You didn't do this for Him, or for His world: you did it for you, and for Your world. You cut yourself off from understanding Him, just as you cut yourself off from understanding Her.

In a similar vein, I think the choice of words could also represent a separation from the terms of the game itself.

Slay the Princess is a game filled with repeating symbols and choices: woods, cabin, blade, basement, chains. Slaying her, or freeing her. Narrator or Princess. Dying and restarting and dying and restarting. Even at the end of everything, these same ideas return: you can choose to leave the cabin with her, slay her, return to the beginning, and so on. (it's a very cohesive narrative like that)

But by seeking out this ending, you're breaking the boundaries of what's typically possible in this game. You're not slaying her, and you're definitely not leaving with her. You don't go to the cabin, you don't find the blade, you don't get "outside help".

The whole game is centered around learning about the Princess and yourself through your shared experiences and developing relationship, but to get this ending is to reject any meaning the vessels may have had to you, and thus to reject her role in the game's narrative.

Meanwhile, by not Slaying the Princess, you reject the Narrator and the construct itself, the construct that was built from nothing in order for you to complete that single task, the construct that constantly limits your choices. In this ending, you reject all the choices that were given to you by the game's typical structure and make your own, new choice.

The game constantly reminds you that you'll need the Pristine Blade in order to stab her in the heart: you'll need it if you want to do this right. But what if you're not interested in "doing this right"? What if instead, you choose to do something cruel to those around you (and cruel to yourself) for the sake of exerting agency in a construct where agency is taken from you?

As the Shifting Mound herself says in response to tossing the Cage's head: "That act was your final assertion of will over chains".

For better or worse, there is nothing and no one left to chain you down (except for you).

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

is there any difference in dialogue if ur mad or sad at baxter at step 4? are there any different options depending on whether you pick fond, crush or love if ur mad or upset? sincerely, curious anon

(this anon clarified that they specifically mean the differences between being mad versus being sad and not the differences between mad/sad and other options; thank you!)

Hi, curious anon~!

There actually are quite a few differences depending on if the MC is angry or sad over Baxter. There's overlap (a general "upset" state where both will get the same narration/choices/dialog), but in general, an angry MC will be more hostile towards Baxter while a sad MC will feel discouraged at Baxter's treatment towards them.

Example from initially seeing Baxter would be:

if the MC is angry

"Mhm. Miranda knows him, so do you, Terry. It's Baxter, again."

"No one can recognize you if you're not wearing black and white, Baxter." (the MC will even add "You didn't leave much else to remember you by.")

"You said you weren't coming back," you spat out.

"Is it too late to say I can't help with this?"

"You have got to be kidding me. Not him." / "You have got to be kidding me. Not that asshole." (depending on if the MC swore in Step 3 or not)

You glared with a silent fury.

if the MC is sad

"Miranda, you know him. So do you, Terry. He's... Baxter."

"Baxter, you don't wear only black and white anymore."

"I thought you weren't coming back," you whispered.

"Baxter...?"

"I remember you."

No words could form in your tight throat.

When attention goes to the MC to agree to continue participating in the wedding:

if the MC is angry

"Fine."

"I'll put up with you for Jude and Scott. That's it."

"You're so phony. Whatever. I don't care."

You glared but kept your mouth shut.

You gave a curt nod.

You said nothing. You did nothing. He got no acknowledgement.

(the MC will also have the option to give their number to Baxter "begrudgingly" if they're specifically angry with him)

if the MC is sad

"Okay..."

"It's alright. Don't worry about me."

"All that matters is that the wedding goes well."

You shifted uncomfortably. You didn't want to be around him, but couldn't ruin this.

You nodded weakly.

You said nothing. You did nothing. You couldn't give any acknowledgement.

After the MC reads the "most recent" texts:

if the MC is angry

He vexed you, but... maybe you could be friends again. / He vexed you, but... maybe you could be close again. / It was so infuriating because the truth was, you still wanted to be with Baxter. (depending on if MC is at Crush/Love with him or not)

Getting to speak with him hadn't changed anything. You were as mad as ever.

Being reunited was an unbelievable chance. You had some optimism for where it'd go.

Things were different now. You'd focus on being entirely professional around him.

You weren't sure what to think or how to feel about Baxter anymore.

if the MC is sad

If you were being entirely honest, you hoped to be friends again. / If you were being entirely honest, you hoped to be close with him again. / It hurt so much because the truth was, you still wanted to be with Baxter. (depending on if the MC is at Crush/Love with him or not)

Being reunited was an unbelievable chance. You had some optimism for where it'd go.

Getting to speak with him hadn't changed anything. You were just sad.

Things were different now. You'd focus on being entirely professional around him.

You weren't sure what to think or how to feel about Baxter anymore.

After Baxter asks for the MC's address of where they're staying, the narration will say "Fine. You could do that- and did." if your MC is angry but "Cautiously, you did as requested." if your MC is sad.

Then, after he apologizes for his behavior at the bakery (if the MC didn't insist on having a talk), the MC won't respond at all if they're angry ("You gave him as much consideration as he'd shown to you. None.") or will let out a mumble-y response if they're sad.

If the MC did insist on having a talk, then Baxter will asks how they are, to which the MC will respond "How do you think, Baxter?" if they're angry or "I'm not doing very well, Baxter." if they're sad. Something similar to the above paragraph will also occur afterwards.

If the MC had the difficult conversation with Baxter (if they were upset with him at the end of Step 3), then the MC will think sarcastically to themself after Baxter texts the group about that day's accomplishments if they're angry with him, or wince about it if they're sad.

If the MC was upset with Baxter after meeting him again (depending on their choice after the MC notes Baxter's most recent text soon after meeting him again), their cuts after making the groom's cake will become aggressive, whereas they'll slump in their seat if they're sad.

And, if the MC agreed to have a conversation with Baxter instead of becoming friends/lovers again right away after the wedding, then choose to tell him, "I never wanted to see you again," the MC will say they were "furious" if they were angry with him or "shattered" if they were sad.

Those are most of the big differences between being mad and sad specifically. Interest level doesn't play a large role.

[pasteidolons]

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 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Summer blooms from the remnants of spring in full fury. Rumors and news about the intense fighting floats in and out of the town, and you grow uneasy thinking about the loss of lives on each side. In the subsequent weeks following 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.  

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 As winter takes hold, the cold wind blows down on the main body of the Hwarang as they arrive in Ongjin. The trip had been impeded by several small snowstorms, but now upon your arrival a new problem is encountered: 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.

[kikimurphys]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 3)

Pairing: Cillian x Y/N

Cillian paced the living room, his heart pounding in his chest. Tonight was the night he would tell Siobhan. Max was at a sleepover, providing a rare opportunity for an uninterrupted conversation. He had rehearsed the words a thousand times in his mind, but now that the moment was upon him, they seemed to slip through his fingers like sand.

Siobhan was in the kitchen, tidying up after dinner. The air between them had been tense for weeks, and Cillian knew that tonight's conversation would only add to the strain. He took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen, the sound of his footsteps drawing Siobhan's attention.

"Siobhan, we need to talk," he said, his voice steady but filled with underlying tension.

She looked up from the sink, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What is it now, Cillian? Another late night at work?"

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "This is serious. It's important."

Her expression shifted from irritation to curiosity, and she crossed her arms, waiting for him to continue.

He took another deep breath, steadying himself. "When we split up, I was seeing someone. It wasn't serious, but now… she's pregnant."

Siobhan’s face went pale, her eyes widening in shock. "What? Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked, her voice rising.

Cillian shook his head, his heart aching at the hurt in her eyes. "No. Her name is Y/N, we work together."

Siobhan's shock quickly turned to anger. "How could you do this to us, to Max?" she shouted, her voice shaking with fury. "You promised me you’d try to make this work!"

"I did try," Cillian said, his voice pleading. "But things weren't working between us, Siobhan. You know that. And Y/N… she wasn't planned, but she's important to me. And so is our child."

Siobhan's face contorted with rage. "Get out," she spat. "Pack your things and get out. I don't want you here."

Cillian stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words. He nodded slowly, knowing there was no turning back now. He turned and walked to the bedroom, quickly packing a bag with essentials. As he zipped it up, he felt a strange sense of relief mingled with the overwhelming sadness of leaving his family behind. He was not in love with Siobhan anymore, but she was the mother of his son, and it killed him to know he had hurt her.

Two days had passed since you and Cillian shared lunch. Though you didn't want to admit it, you were hoping that Cillian would come to you. He had been texting you in the past few days, asking how you were feeling, and you had agreed to meet at the clinic tomorrow for your 18-week ultrasound.

Sitting in your kitchen, you were eating pickles straight from the jar. You had been craving them all day. As you ate, you felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety about seeing Cillian again. The tangy crunch of the pickles was oddly soothing, a small comfort in the midst of your swirling emotions about the future of your baby.

Your phone rang, pulling you from your thoughts. Seeing Cillian's name on the screen made your heart skip a beat. God, you felt like a teenager in love. You quickly answered, "Cillian?"

"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Did you tell her?" you asked, feeling a pang of guilt for even needing to ask.

"Yeah. I did," he replied, his voice strained.

"How did she take it?" you asked softly, already fearing the worst.

"She kicked me out," Cillian admitted.

"What are you going to do?" you worried.

He let out a tired sigh. "I gotta find a hotel."

Your heart ached for him. "It's late, Cill, you can stay here tonight. On the couch.” You cringed at how desperate you seemed.

"Oh no. Don't worry about me. I don't want to bother you," he said, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.

"It's no bother, really," you insisted, getting up from the kitchen stool. "I have plenty of space."

He hesitated. "I think I'll go to my brother's. It's probably better that way."

"Yeah, of course, it's probably better," you said, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you placed the pickle jar back in the fridge. "The offer is there anyway. You know the code to get in."

"Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice softening. "I appreciate it."

"Anytime," you replied. "See you tomorrow then?" A glimpse of hope in your voice.

"Yeah. See you there. Bye."

"Bye," you said before hanging up.

You sighed, flopping onto the couch. As much as you wanted Cillian to come to you, you understood that he needed time to process everything. You felt a deep sense of empathy for him, knowing how hard it must be to leave his family, even if things hadn't been right for a long time.

As you lay there, the fatigue of the day washed over you. Despite your worries, the thought of seeing Cillian tomorrow for the ultrasound brought a small, hopeful smile to your face. You knew the road ahead would be difficult, but for now, you let yourself drift off to sleep, wishing that Cillian would find his way to you, even though he must be hurting from the split with Siobhan.

As you closed your eyes, hands cradling your baby, your mind filled with visions of a future that seemed almost within reach. A life where you, Cillian, and the baby could be a family. You imagined Sunday mornings filled with laughter and the smell of pancakes, quiet nights curled up together on the couch, and the joy of watching your child grow up loved and cherished by both parents.

But the reality was complicated. Cillian's voice echoed in your mind, filled with the weight of his own turmoil. The image of Siobhan's hurt and anger played like a sad movie in the background of your thoughts. You understood the gravity of what he had to do, and you couldn't blame him for needing time.

Yet, as you lay there, you couldn't shake the feeling of hope that tomorrow's ultrasound would bring you closer together. Perhaps seeing the baby, the tangible proof of the life you were creating, would help solidify Cillian's place in this new chapter. You clung to that hope, letting it soothe you as you finally drifted off into a deep sleep, the sound of your heartbeat merging with the gentle rhythm of your dreams.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe

[lagtrained]

hi everyone i am not refollowing the stp tag until i 100% the new achievements and stuff again BUT. i finished a whole playthrough at like 4 pm today. oh my god. OOOOOOOOGH i have thoughts. SPOILERS BELOW CUT

THE FUCKING. PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON CHAPTER. OH MY GOD. i havw so many thoughts and feeling and just. holy SHIT that fucking chapter. im pretty sure thats the first instance of actually seeing what tlq looks like not in complete darkness and MY GOD my jaw dropped the moment i saw that. my first thought was just "he is so big and also looks fluffy but in a scary way why is he Like That" in he best way possible and just. its so expressive even with like only three (or four?) different "expressions" (aka different eyes except for opprtunist bc hes just different like that or something i guess). and dont even get me STARTED on the segway into the chapter and the chaoticness and confusion of it, that was the first chapter three of my playthrough so it was a VERY strong start.

also. happily ever after. GOD. HAPPILY EVER AFTER. i wanted to cry the entire time because like. she was so. :(. i could FEEL the anxiety and panic and just. MAN. people pleasers rise up (starts sobbing) and and and. fucking. smitten. GOD. pristine cut is really just the "hey look its the voices in your head! here they are!" update in disguise /j but anyways. he very much added to the huge feeling of anxiety, and i forgot what i did but at first i didnt see any of the voices just talking about the Suspiciously Bird Shaped Shadow on the wall until like halfway through the chapter where paranoid was like "hey guys i found the missing voice why is he a shadow". and once again. the leadup to the chapter was. jarring. to say the least. at first i thought broken was there just because pf the change in tone but after still seeing "voice of the smitten" i was. very worried. and then i was even more worried in the next two minutes when this guy ripped his fucking chest open with his bare hands. like. my god dude. just say you love her smh /j but yea no that was fucking awesome

i have a lot of thoughts and i definitely need to reply the cage (mostly bc i was super lightheaded during my playthrough) but GOD i was. once again. very disgusted and horrified /pos 10/10 would be beheaded by a headless princess and also drive one of the voices in my head insane again

as for the chapter expansions i definitely need to explore them more (since i did one playthrough and then got sidetracked as soon as i unlocked the memories menu) but i did play one route of both apotheosis and fury and both of them are absolutely amazing (shoutout to voice of the stubborn for giving me another razor-esque montage very much enjoyed it), and i ended up only doing a little bit of the den but even so i still REALLY liked it (also because den was always one of the chapters i was super interested in)

and also figuring out how to get the new ending was very fun!!!!!!!! i saw the red text once because of my apotheosis route and i was like "what. what do you mean shifting mound. what do you mean by that." when she mentioned starting to understand, then spent like 10 minutes in both the normal cabin and stranger cabin looking for the ending, and then i was like "whar if i Killed Her"

overall. my god. im so happy. seritonin STIMULATED mental illness CURED (and then recaused by happily ever after)

[renjunniex]

Thank You, For Being You

Isaac Lahey x Fem! Reader

Restraint

Omega Part 1 | Omega Part 2 | Shape Shifted | Ice Pick | Abomination | Venomous | Frenemy | Raving | Party Guessed | Fury

Prompt: With Jackson out of the van, he's become impossible to deal with.

a/n: okay guys I won't lie, I looked over this chapter but wasn't very through so there's probably a few mistakes sorryyyyy

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

Stiles and Scott had sent you back home so they could talk to Sheriff without raising any suspicion on you. That proved to be pointless since when you got back home you ended back in the car, heading to the police station. Only you weren't going by yourself, you were with Melissa and she was not happy.

You two had reached the police station and other than the occasional questions to see if you were involved, Melissa was silent. Not like she needed to say anything to convey her anger, she was practically dripping in it. Walking into the police station didn't make it better either because down the hallway there was Scott and Stiles, sitting in an interrogation room being informed of the new restraining order against them.

There was a silence between everyone in the room when Sheriff had finished his list, only for his son to be the one to break it, "What about school?"

"You can attend classes while attempting to maintain a fifty foot distance."

"Okay, what if we both have to use the bathroom at the same time and there's only two stalls available and they're only right next to each other?" He was met with nothing but a look of irritation from his father, "I'll just hold it."

They were finally let out of the room and now you were witnessing Stiles and his dad going back and forth while you passed by with Melissa and Scott in front of you.

"It's not just this," She had turned him around, "Although, a restraining order is a new low that I didn't think that you would reach quite this soon. It's everything on top of it." By now you had zoned out for a bit since it was all directed at him that is until she got to the punishment.

"Then no... no Stiles."

"What, no Stiles?" You hadn't even realized the boy was behind you until you heard his voice.

"No Stiles! And that goes for you too!" She pointed at you. Your eyes widened as you raised your hands.

"What!? What did I do?"

In the end, Melissa gave her punishment saying she would be in the car after she had come to the conclusion that all this was because of Scott's dad. "I'm the worst son ever," Scott claimed leaning against the wall. Stiles had sighed slumping against the wall as well.

"Well, I'm not exactly winning any prizes either."

~

When you had gotten home, you were laying in bed just trying to sleep despite everything going on. However the buzzing of your phone was very distracting. You finally had enough of the constant disturbance to your attempts to sleep. Grabbing it, the light blinding you slightly, you read the texts from a surprising party.

__

This is Derek

Come to the station tomorrow

Urgent

__

Great, now you definitely weren't getting any sleep. How did he even get your number? It must have been Isaac, who else could it have been? You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to fall asleep as if it was the last thing you would ever do.

The next morning you found yourself in the one place you never thought you would be back to, the abandoned station. You also never thought you'd be back because Derek, of all people, demanded you to. You let out an unsure sigh as you walked down the rickety stairs for the second time. You could hear the voices of Derek, Erica, and Isaac discussing the full moon.

"Oh my, these look comfortable," you could see Erica picking up chains as she spoke.

"You said you were gonna teach us to change whenever we wanted," Isaac said.

"There hasn't been time," Derek replied as he shuffled through the chest of what was essentially medieval torture devices.

Isaac wasn't in the least bit pleased with his Alpha's answer, "But if you have to lock us up during the full moon, then that means you're alone against the Argents."

"They haven't found us," the Alpha sang walking away.

"Yet! So how about we forget the Kanima?"

"We can't! There was something about the way Gerard looked at it. He wasn't afraid... at all. I don't know what he knows or what he's planning. But I'm sure about one thing, we have to find it first."

"My, my, I always seem to walk in during these big speeches of yours Derek," you bounded your way down the last few stairs catching the three werewolves' attentions.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" The curly haired werewolf didn't realize but his voice made you shiver slightly.

"I was actually just wondering that exact thing," you turned your glance to Derek, "What do you want Derek?"

"You're a Nymph."

Your eyes widened but then your face flipped to confusion, what did that have to do with anything? "Okay, and what about it? How do you even know?"

He pointed to your bag, "The book you held up the last time you were here, your eyes and from what Erica and Isaac told me you did at the school."

You kissed your teeth, "Okay so is that all you called me here for? Just to tell me that you knew?"

"I need something from you."

"No." Your words had cut through the air without any hesitation. Derek tilted his head from irritation, "I know you don't like me-."

"You're right, I don't."

"This isn't for me, it's for them."

You took a pause and then nodded, acknowledging his statement, "I'm not sure if it's true or not but there's a spell that's rumored to have been created to reduce the abilities of werewolves. It was mainly created for purposes like the full moon. Do you think you could find it?" His words made you hesitate, still you gave him an unsure nod, "I think so, I'll need some time though."

Derek nodded in understanding, "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure. I've got to get to school." You turned and made your way towards the stairs trying not to look at Isaac on your way out.

~

When you got to school you met the boys at the library where they were waiting for you and Allison. She had shown up only moments after you did. You saw her slowly walk through the aisles before coming to the point where only one shelf remained between you three and her.

She slid her tablet through the shelf allowing Scott to take it and start to look over the scripture. "It's everything Lydia can translate. And trust me, she was very confused." Scott looked through the books towards her, "Yeah, what'd you tell her?"

"That we're part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures." Allison and Scott shared a small laugh as you smiled.

"I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures," Stiles said with awkwardness.

Allison stood shocked, "Oh. Great."

Your hand flew to your mouth to snuffle your laugh that was on the verge of coming out and Stiles gave you a raised eyebrow before glancing at the dark haired girl with a straight smile.

"Okay does it say how to find out who's controlling him," Scott asked.

"Not really. But Stiles was right about the murderers." Queue the spastic boy's small yell of victory. "It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance," Allison continued, "There's a story in there about this South American priest who uses the Kanima to execute murderers in his village."

"Alright, see? So maybe it's not all that bad," Stiles remarked.

Allison countered back almost instantly, "Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to." You nodded quickly, "So bad, very bad."

Stiles agreed with you, "All bad, all very, very bad."

"Here's the thing though, the Kanima is actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can't be..." You looked over the Omega's shoulder reading the text, "Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it."

"Okay if that means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could've told you that myself." You scoffed at Stiles' words, "Seriously, that dude is all sorts of messed up."

Allison raised her head slightly, "What if it has something to do with his parents? His real parents." Scott turned to you and Stiles, "Yeah, does anybody actually know what happened to them?"

You could almost see the flicker of light that turned on in Stiles' eyes,

"Lydia might."

"What if she doesn't know anything," Scott acknowledged the possibility. You rocked your head side to side in thought, "Something tells me Lydia knows a lot more than she lets on."

"Well, he doesn't have a restraining order against me, so I'll talk to him myself." You looked at Allison, "He doesn't have one on me either. Do you want me to come with you?" She quickly denied your offer, "No my mom is watching the cameras practically every second, we don't want to draw suspicion."

Scott drew a blank, "Okay, what do I do?"

"You have a make-up exam, remember," She reminded him.

Scott looked over at the two of you for back up, which he never got as shown by the two in sync nods, "Seriously, you desperately need to raise your grades," you added on. The couple went on to have their moment, until Stiles interrupted it with pushing his head through the shelf. After Allison had shoved him back, all four of you went on about your days the best as you could.

Stiles had set out on a mission to get information out of Lydia, Allison was on her way to try and talk to Jackson, Scott went to take his make-up test, and you were trying to not run into a certain tall werewolf.

All morning it felt like he was just everywhere and since you weren't assigned any sort of task you were practically forced to notice. Every hallway you went down, every corner you turned, he was there. It was beginning to irk you. You finally had to come to a stop at your locker and you could already feel that it was a bad decision.

"Hey, beautiful. Been looking for you."

You sighed, slowly closing your locker shut and coming face to face with the same boy who you've been trying to avoid. "Hi, Isaac," he gave a slight pout at your response, "What, no smile? I thought you would be happy to see me." His attitude made you sneer, "Don't play games with me, Lahey. I'll smack you." Your feet slammed into the floor as you walked away, heavy with anger.

"Okay, okay, too much. Seriously, (Y/N), wait up."

"No."

Your response didn't slow him down, in fact, it sped him up. Isaac had jumped forward in front of you, blocking you from leaving.

"Please just talk to me, I'm dying sweetheart," he pleaded.

You stopped and gave him a once over, your arms crossed, "You look fine to me." He groaned out of frustration, you turned once more heading for the opposite direction even if that meant being late for class. "Also, don't call me sweetheart, you don't get the privilege."

He, once again, dashed in front of you finally placing his hands on your shoulders, "Okay, okay, look I know you're still upset at me. I get it, okay, but can we please just talk. We have a killer lizard on the loose, I feel like that's a serious issue."

Your eyes narrowed as you realized what he was actually here for, "You're trying to get me to tell you who it is."

"So, you guys do know."

A scoff traveled out of your mouth with such power it was comedic, "Of course we do and I'm not telling you. Now, will you stop following me?"

"I can't, orders."

"See, again with the orders! This is exactly why I'm mad at you in the first place! Not to mention, you kissing me out of nowhere," you exclaimed. The hallway had pretty much cleared out by now, leaving just you two plus a few skippers.

Isaac's face scrunched up slightly, "What, you're mad because I kissed you?"

Out of reflex your hand shot out, punching his shoulder, "That's all you got from that?" When you didn't receive an answer, just a look of expectation you continued to gripe, "I'm not mad you kissed me. I'm upset because it's messing with my head."

"But you kissed me back," he argued, cluelessly.

You wiped your face out of irritation, "Yes, I know. But-"

A panicked gasp left you as you felt the familiar heat of your eyes glowing and one thought enter your mind.

Allison

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?"

Without much thought or care you shoved passed Isaac, sprinting towards the locker room. You could hear the calls of your name coming from the boy who was now also following after you. It didn't stop you though, nothing did until you got to the locker room door. You threw your body's weight at the closed door, slamming through to see Allison on the floor and Scott throwing Jackson around.

You crouched beside her grabbing her shoulders to gain her attention, "Hey, are you okay?" She nodded shakily and you secured your arms around her in a tight hug.

By now Isaac had arrived coming into the battleground that was the boy's locker room. You saw his head quickly travel from the two fighting boys and then to you, unsure of what to do.

He didn't need to think any longer as Jackson had thrown Scott back through the other door and into the hallway. Allison and you had finally gotten off the floor and rushed out the same door. You found Stiles and Erica already trying to separate the two. Erica had a death grip on Jackson where as it took you, Stiles, and Allison to keep Scott from going back for Jackson.

Isaac was just behind you and Mr. Harris had turned the corner yelling to try and break up the fight. "Hey! ENOUGH! Enough."

"What do you idiots think you're doing? Jackson! Calm down!" Harris had turned to the Omega, addressing him, "Mr. McCall, you wanna explain yourself? Stilinski? (Y/N)?" He had looked to you finally for answers but you couldn't give him any, from the lack of ideas for a lie and the lack of breath you had from trying to hold back Scott.

You felt Isaac gently place a hand on your waist, giving you some much need physical and emotional support.

"You dropped this." Everyone had looked behind them to see Matt holding Allison's tablet out to Scott, which was intercepted from Mr. Harris. "You and you," he started pointing at the two boys who had been fighting, "Actually, all of you... Detention. 3 o'clock."

~

After school hours had arrived and the whole lot of you were entering the library for detention. Stiles, Scott, and you had sat at one table; Allison made her way to another just across from you, Jackson and Matt followed her lead. You felt a presence next to you and when you turned you were met with the eyes of the blonde werewolf. You rolled your eyes going back to keeping your attention on the two boys across from you.

You heard the sliding of a chair coming closer to your table and then another body had joined you. Isaac, who had given you a slight smile, did nothing but keep his attention on you.

"We can't be in detention together. I have a restraining order against these tools," Jackson motioned to your two best friends.

Harris had replied back with an undertone of sass, "All these tools?"

"No, just us tools," Stiles answered gesturing to him and Scott.

"Fine. You two, over there." Scott and Stiles moved up to the front table leaving you behind with the Beta wolves. You let out a huff and slumped slightly in your chair. Then Mr. Harris started to make is way to the library's front desk, turning his back away from you. When you saw an opening you quickly and quietly slid out of your chair and into the one right next to Scott.

The werewolf was rocking his body out of anger and pounded his fist onto the table, "I'm gonna kill him." Stiles pointed at the boy, "No, you're not. You're going to find out who's controlling him and then you're gonna help save him."

You cocked an eyebrow, your arms crossed, "But you're more than welcomed to kill the one controlling him, to release your rage."

"No," Scott turned his head back to you two, rapidly shaking his head, "You were right, let's kill him."

"Oh, no," Stiles sighed.

You fixed your posture and changed the subject to try and ease the mood, "So, why were you with Erica?" Stiles gave you his signature sarcastic look, "Really, why were you with Isaac?"

"I asked you first."

"Fine, she caught me in the hall, she might know what happened to Jackson's parents." You nodded satisfied with the answer and with the ease you could start to feel come off Scott. "Now you."

Your eyes snapped up, "What?" Stiles scoffed a laugh, "Why were you with Isaac?" Scott had glanced at you, curiosity in his eyes, he clearly wanted to know as well.

Mumbled words left your mouth as you casted your gaze onto the table. Stiles cupped his hand over his ear mocking you, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"He found me in the hallway, he didn't want me to be mad at him anymore," you mumbled once more.

Both boys had looked at you in confusion, "The Lydia thing," Scott asked. You shook your head slowly as Stiles had slid his hands onto the table in a questioning motion, "Then what are you mad at him for?"

"He kissed me," you whispered.

There was a tick of silence before Stiles ended it, "Okay forget Jackson, kill Isaac." You groaned, "Stop, you guys, I'm fine. Just confused is all."

"No, no. He doesn't get to just do that after everything he's done and just expect you to be okay with it. He can't play with your emotions like that," argued Stiles. Scott hadn't said anything yet, just had slid his hand into yours and squeezed for comfort.

"It's okay, we'll deal with that when we don't have a killer lizard and a controlling freak to deal with," you concluded.

You three sat in silence for a little while and then ideas started to flow, "Hey." You and Scott both looked at the boy across from you, "What if it's Matt? I mean this whole thing comes back to the video, right?"

"He is kind of a creep," you agreed.

"Danny said that Matt was the one who found the two hours of footage missing," Scott argued.

"Exactly! He's trying to throw suspicion off himself," Stiles exclaimed still within a whisper.

Scott looked back to Matt before going back to Stiles, "So he makes Jackson kill Isaac's dad, one of Argent's hunters, and the mechanic working on your Jeep?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because..." Stiles' gaze was on the table, "He's evil." You snorted a soft laugh as Scott argued again, "You just don't like him."

"I don't blame him," you added, "he used to always give me these weird looks when he first joined the team."

"That guy bugs me. I don't know what it is," Stiles leaned back in his chair, still observing the odd boy, "Just look at his face." You three looked back to see Matt offering Jackson chips. To which led to the Omega giving Stiles an unconvinced look, "Any other theories?"

You heard Jackson start to make noises of discomfort, followed by Matt and Mr. Harris asking if the boy was alright. Jackson left claiming to just need water and Harris followed closely behind. "No one leaves their seats."

When the door closed behind them, without a word, you three did just what you were told not to do. You got out of your seats and rushed right back to where Isaac and Erica were sitting. Stiles sitting next to Erica, Scott across from her, and you next to Scott, with Isaac on the end.

"Stiles says you know how Jackson's parents died," Scott concluded.

"Maybe."

"Talk," demanded the boy. She put her pen down, closing her book and starting her story, "It was a car accident. My dad was the insurance investigator and every time he sees Jackson drive by in his Porsche, he makes some comment about the huge settlement he'll be getting when he's eighteen."

Stiles interrupted, "So not only is Jackson rich now, but he's getting even richer at eighteen?"

"Yep."

"There's something so deeply wrong with that," Stiles commented to which you all agreed. "Yeah, try the word morbid, maybe," you added.

"You know what? I could try to find the insurance report in my dad's inbox. He keeps everything."

Scott McCall, please report to the principal's office.

Scott, you and Stiles shared an incredulous look as the boy left for the office, "That cannot be good," you said. Isaac and Erica gave you both odd looks and you raised your hand stopping their questions, "It's a long story."

Erica went back to searching her dad's records, Stiles basically hanging over her shoulder. You turned your attention to the leather jacket wearing boy, who's stare was completely on the table. He directed it to you once you had moved the chair you were using closer to him. At this point you both were inches apart. Isaac leaned his head down slightly so that you were closer to his ear as you talked.

"Why did you follow me," you asked, your finger tracing imaginary circles on the table. His knee nudged yours under the table, clearly trying to get your eyes to look at him, which had worked.

"Because I was worried about you."

You took a sharp breath from shock, your eyes widened slightly. When you gained your composure back you replied, "Isn't that supposed to be my line?"

He breathed of soft chuckle, "I'm serious, sweetheart. You had me worried."

"I told you not to call me that," you said.

"Really, I don't remember that," he had a soft smirk resting on his face.

You scoffed, "Yeah, whatever." His smirk didn't disappear, "You're cute when you're flustered."

You shoved him, "Shut up, you're being dumb. We're in a serious situation, you know?"

"If it's so serious why have you been focusing on me instead of those two over there," he pointed over to the two teenagers who were snooping through emails.

You clasped your fingers together resting your chin on your hands, "Because I'm trying to figure out what your game is."

"My game?"

"Yep, you stopped me in the hallway, you followed me to the locker room which landed you in detention with me, so what's your angle?"

He shrugged leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, "I told you, I was worried. Plus why would I not want to spend time with my favorite girl."

You raised your eyebrows, "Your favorite girl? Didn't realize I meet the qualifications for that title."

"You always did."

Your conversation was cut to a halt when the library door opened with Jackson and Mr. Harris in tow. You looked over to your best friend when you saw an odd look on his face.

"Look at the dates."

You perked up, "Oh, you found it." The responses you got were two nods as Erica began to read the reports, "'Passengers arrived at the hospital DOA. The estimated time of death 9:26 p.m., June 14, 1995.'"

Both yours and Stiles' expressions fell, "Jackson's birthday is June 15th."

A zipping sound was heard as Harris began to close his bag. Everyone around began to follow suit in getting up and grabbing their things when they were interrupted with the man chuckling, "Oh, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm leaving. But none of you are. You may go when you're done with the re-shelving. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

There was a collective groan as the door to the library closed, Mr. Harris on the other side of it. You all sluggishly each grabbed your own stack of books and scattered around. Eventually Scott came back and Stiles, Allison, and you all gathered towards the boy to relay more information to each other.

"It means he was born after his mom died by c-section. They had to pull him out of her dead body," Stiles explained.

"That's gotta take the cake when it comes to childhood trauma," you murmured, sliding a book back onto the shelf.

"So was it an accident or not," asked Allison. Stiles shrugged slightly as he answered, "The word all over the report is 'inconclusive'."

"Then his parents could have been murdered," questioned Scott.

"If they were, then it falls in line with the Kanima myth," Stiles said, "You know? Seeks out of kills murderers."

You had turned back, facing the group as Allison continued to glance at Stiles, "But for Jackson or the person controlling him," she asked softly. Almost out of complete quiet panic Scott said, "We have to talk to him. We have to tell him." Even with the sounds of you three's protests Scott didn't listen as he left the aisle.

Not even a minute later and you could hear crashes, ceiling and electrical falling everywhere. Stiles had grabbed Allison pulling her into him as concrete crashed by. Before you could even register everything, Isaac had come into your aisle wrapping one arm around your waist and the other cradling your head as he did the same thing, pulling you into his chest, away from the falling construction.

Once it was safe to do so Isaac released his grip on you, his hands now cradling your face, "Are you okay," he asked urgently scanning you over to look for any signs of harm. You gave him a shaky nod, your focus and eyesight blurred from the overwhelming situation. Then a crash was heard once more, breaking both of you out of your bubbles.

Scott had been pushed by a half-turned Jackson and back into your aisle. You slowly unraveled yourself from Isaac and crawled over to the trio, in between Stiles and Allison. Now in your line of sight was Jackson at the chalk board. His body was facing away from it, his arm stretched out as he began to scratch at the board. Once his message was complete he jumped out through the window.

STAY OUT OF MY WAY OR I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU

You all slowly walked towards the board in shock. Stiles turned his head and rushed in a different direction. "Hey, hey, hey, hey!" He had Erica in his arms as she grunted and gasped for breath, shaking.

"I think she's having a seizure."

Allison had gone to Matt making sure he was alive, while you three were with Erica. You could see Isaac in the corner of your eye and he was clearly in distress.

"We need to get her to the hospital," you said supporting her body the best you could with Stiles. "Derek," Erica interjected, "Only to Derek."

Scott spoke to Allison and rushed over to the other aisle, "Hey, Scott!" Stiles' attention was back on Erica after his panicked yell. You looked at Scott as he made his way back, picking up Erica.

"I'll stay with her, go." He nodded gratefully before rushing out, Stiles right on his heels.

Isaac made his way towards you and you spoke once more, "You should meet them there, they might need your help." The boy shook his head, "I can't just leave you after everything that just happened."

"I'll be okay, go." He hesitated, before nodding his head and following the same path the boys had just taken.

~

Once you and Allison were sure Matt was gonna be okay, you parted ways. You had once again reached the hide out of the newly formed Hale pack. You could hear voices talking as you reached the bottom of the stairs and walked to the train car.

Inside you saw a exhausted but okay Erica, laying in the arms of Stiles. Isaac and Scott stood to the side while Derek sat nearby the girl as well. "Good, she's alright," you let of a sigh of relief, getting all their attention.

Derek had gotten up leaving the car, Scott following close behind. You couldn't lie, it peaked your interest, so after making one final glance over the blonde girl you left the car as well and reached the duo.

"You know who it is."

"Jackson."

"You just wanted Erica to confirm it, didn't you?"

Derek nodded at the question.

"I'm gonna help you stop him. As part of your pack," Scott stated, giving you a look, you nodded at your best friend in agreement.

"If you want me in, fine. But we'll do it on one condition. We're gonna catch him, not kill him."

"And?"

You made eye contact with the Alpha, "We do it our way."

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

a/n: another chapter doneeeeee! yay! I hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think!

taglist: @somiaw @vvicaddiction @mushroomelephant @breadbrobin @traumverloren-anderswelt @fandom-princess-forevermore @vanessa-boo

[unabashegirl]

Vicious 7 || Harry Styles x mafia

Summary: Harry Styles, the cold and calculating son of a powerful mafia don, must consolidate power after his father's passing. He faces challenges from his unpredictable younger brother, Silas, and navigates a complex world of alliances, ruthless decisions, and family loyalty. Amidst the intrigue, the elegant and alluring Y/N Castellano, the daughter of an Italian mafia boss, attends the funeral and finds herself drawn to Harry. As power dynamics shift and the future remains uncertain, the story explores the dark and dangerous allure of the mafia, the weight of family legacies, and the potential for unexpected connections in a world defined by secrecy and ruthlessness.

masterlist

Author's note: Just wanted to come on here and thank everyone who has joined my Patreon. All the support is greatly apprechiated since it's contibuting to my education. If you don't know my mom has gotten severely sick lately and hasn't been able to pay my tuition. I've been trying to juggle writing and medical school this semester in hopes of raising enough money to help my mom support me and pay more medical school. Therefore, thank you so much to each one of that has subscribed.

Y/N regained consciousness, her body feeling heavy and drained. It took a moment for her to gather her bearings as she woke up mid-afternoon the next day. Every part of her ached, especially her injured leg where the dog had bitten her. Disoriented from sleeping for so long, Y/N's thoughts immediately turned to Giana. She hadn't been able to send her a text to let her know that she had been caught. With a sigh, Y/N pushed the blankets off her warm body and gingerly slipped out of bed.

She used the bed for leverage as she hopped towards the pile of her used clothes by the front floor. The pockets were empty. Y/N's heart raced as she frantically searched the room, tearing through drawers, lifting cushions, and rummaging through her bags in a desperate attempt to find her phone. Her hands trembled with anxiety as she realized it was nowhere to be found. Panic began to set in as she contemplated her next move.

With a determined resolve, Y/N strode towards the door, her hand reaching for the handle. But as she turned it, her heart sank. Standing before her were two imposing figures, their expressions stern and unwavering.

"You can't leave the room," one of the men stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He had a heavy irish accent. Y/N hadn’t met him or seen him before.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she met their gaze, her mind racing with fear and uncertainty. She felt trapped, powerless against the forces that seemed to be closing in around her.

Y/N's frustration boiled over as she faced the two men barring her way. "What do you mean I can't leave? This is ridiculous! I need to get out of here!"

The men remained unmoved, their expressions unyielding as they reiterated, "Boss orders are clear. You're to stay in the room."

Y/N's anger flared at the mention of Harry's name. "Of course, he's behind this," she muttered under her breath, her eyes flashing with indignation.

Attempting to change the subject, one of the men interjected, "Hungry?”

Y/N's fury intensified at the casual offer of food. "I'm not hungry! I'm furious that I'm being locked in here like some prisoner!"

But the men remained stoic, their allegiance to Harry unwavering. Y/N felt a surge of helplessness wash over her as she realized the extent of Harry's control over her situation. She shut the door loudly wanting to let Harry know wherever he was that she didn’t agree with his decision.

With no distractions in the room, Y/N felt the weight of her confinement pressing down on her. She paced back and forth, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But without her phone, she was cut off from the outside world, trapped in this suffocating room.

She flopped down onto the bed, frustration gnawing at her. She needed to think, to come up with a plan. But her mind felt foggy, clouded by exhaustion and anxiety.

As she sat there, her gaze fell on the window. It offered a sliver of hope, a potential way out. But without her phone to call for help or navigate her surroundings, it seemed like an impossible escape route.

Desperation drove her to consider every possibility, no matter how slim. She had to find a way out of this room, out of this nightmare. But with each passing moment, the walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with the reality of her captivity.

"What are you doing here?" Y/N questioned as Charlie entered the room, a tray of food in hand.

"You need to eat," he stated matter-of-factly, setting the tray down on the bed. On it sat a plate of lasagna accompanied by a caprese salad. Y/N couldn't help but feel surprised by the choice of Italian cuisine, though she doubted it would compare to the flavors of home.

"I'm not hungry," she lied, though the aroma of the food made her stomach growl in protest. Despite her hunger, she knew she needed to confront Harry and demand her release.

"We aren't doing this, Y/N," Charlie warned, settling into the futon on the other side of the room.

"Exactly! We aren't doing this. Where is he? I need to talk to him," Y/N insisted. Charlie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He could sense that the rest of the day was going to be challenging. Harry had given strict orders; she wasn't allowed to leave the room for a week. He wanted her to reflect on her actions. Harry felt the urge to enforce a more severe punishment himself, but he knew better. He wanted to give her one more chance.

Charlie shook his head. "You need to keep up your strength," he insisted, gesturing to the plate. "Harry's busy right now."

"I need my phone," Y/N interjected, desperation creeping into her voice. "I need to call someone."

Charlie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Your phone? I'm not sure where it is," he said obliviously. "You probably dropped it while you were running through the woods."

Y/N's frustration grew. "This is absurd! There's nothing to do in here," she exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "I'm bored out of my mind."

Charlie sighed frustrated. "You're not allowed to leave this room," he explained. "But maybe I can bring you something to read. Would that help?" He hated that Harry had assigned him to babysit her.

Y/N brightened slightly at the prospect. "Yes, if you bring me something to read, I'll eat," she agreed, her hunger overcoming her frustration for the moment.

"Fine. Eat. Now," Charlie ordered sternly before rising from the futon. "I'll be right back."

Y/N wasted no time and began to devour the food. To her surprise, every bite of the lasagna and salad was delicious, momentarily distracting her from her confinement.

"Here," Charlie said upon his return, holding a small stack of books. He seemed taken aback that she had kept her end of the bargain. "I'm not sure what genre you prefer, but I brought you a few options." He placed the books on the bureau.

"Thanks," Y/N said gratefully, genuinely surprised that he had returned with reading material.

"The doctor will be back in a few hours to check your leg. Finish eating," Charlie reminded her before exiting the room, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts and the promise of books to pass the time.

For two days, Y/N had been confined to her room. She had devoured two books, finding solace in their pages amidst the monotony of her captivity. However, as the morning of the third day dawned, she found herself longing for the simple pleasure of fresh air.

Approaching the window, she noticed with frustration that it had been nailed shut. Harry's precautions were evident, and the realization only fueled her desire to escape the stifling confines of her room.

As she looked outside the window, she could see another man sitting right under the window on the ground floor. Guarding her just like the two big ones outside of her door.

With a sigh of resignation, Y/N decided to make the best of her situation. She filled the bathtub with hot water, allowing the steam to envelop her as she sank into the soothing embrace of the water. Closing her eyes, she let herself relax, the tension melting away with each passing minute.

After luxuriating in the bath for a while, Y/N emerged feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. Wrapping herself in a fluffy towel, she settled back onto the bed and reached for the romance novel she had been reading.

Lost in the pages of the book, she was transported to another world, one where love conquered all and happily ever after's were guaranteed. As she turned the final page, a sense of contentment washed over her.

Deciding to change out of her pajamas, Y/N opted for an ankle-length floral dress and a pair of sneakers. It was a casual choice, perhaps a bit childish, but she didn't care. After all, she had no one to impress within the confines of her room.

A few hours later, the door creaked open, shattering the quiet sanctuary of Y/N's room. Startled, she looked up to find Silas poking his head in, a small, enigmatic smile dancing on his lips. Surprise washed over her at the sight of him; she had half expected him to be buried six feet under. Since the brutal beatdown, she hadn't heard a whisper about his whereabouts.

"Let's go!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a hint of excitement. Despite the sunglasses shielding his eyes, Y/N could discern the remnants of wounds and stitches etched across his face.

Confusion knit her brows tightly together. "Go where?" she inquired, setting her book aside and rising from the bed, a surge of curiosity flooding her senses.

"Anywhere but here," Silas responded cryptically, his gaze flickering around the room as if he anticipated an unwelcome visitor at any moment. "Come on! Before they get back!" he urged, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. "It's now or never."

Anticipation quickened Y/N's heartbeat. She had yearned for a change of scenery, even if it meant incurring Harry's wrath. Without a moment's hesitation, she nodded in agreement and followed Silas out of the room, her spirit alight with the promise of adventure.

In the dimly lit confines of his office, Harry sat behind his imposing desk, a faint scent of cigar smoke lingering in the air. He had just concluded a meeting with a few individuals who had come seeking favors, their requests adding more obligations.

As he leaned back in his chair, contemplating the outcomes of the discussions, the heavy oak door swung open, admitting Charlie and Lex into the room. Both men wore expressions of composed alertness.

"Everything sorted out?" Harry inquired, his tone carrying a note of expectation.

Charlie nodded curtly. "All taken care of, boss," he confirmed, his voice tinged with a hint of deference.

Lex, ever the silent sentinel, simply offered a nod in agreement.

Satisfied with their efficiency, Harry's gaze narrowed slightly as he shifted his attention to more pressing matters. "And Y/N?" he asked, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity. "How's she been behaving?"

Charlie exchanged a quick glance with Lex before responding. "She's been... cooperative," he replied carefully, choosing his words with precision. "Keeping to herself mostly. No trouble so far."

Harry mulled over the response, his thoughts veiled behind a facade of inscrutability. Y/N's presence in his domain had been a source of unexpected complications, her defiance and attempts at escape serving as reminders of the delicate balance of power he maintained.

"Good," he remarked, his voice betraying none of the complexity swirling beneath the surface. "Keep an eye on her. We don't need any surprises”.

Leaning forward, Harry's gaze settled on Charlie with a steely intensity that brooked no argument. "I'll be paying Y/N a visit," he declared, his voice carrying a weight of authority that commanded immediate attention.

Charlie's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he composed himself. "Understood, boss," he replied, his tone respectful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. He knew all too well the implications of Harry's unexpected visit.

Harry's lips curved into a faint, calculating smile as he continued. "I want to see for myself how well she's been behaving," he explained, the subtle undertone of menace underscoring his words. "Make sure everything's in order."

If you would like to read ahead and get access to 17 more chapters of enticing and more writing pieces then check out my Patreon and join our community.

chapter 8

[phoxey]

The White Raven (Bada Lee Gang AU)

Bada Lee x fem!reader

CW: violence, angst if you really really squint, mentions of blood

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 - Have you ever killed someone, Bada?

You were tired. It was three in the morning and it was your fourth night shift this week. You worked three jobs. During the day you tutored kids in English, in the evening you worked for a food delivery service and in the night, you worked in a 24/7 convenience store, so you only ever slept from seven to noon, each day. And you were happy if you had one day off in a month. You worked so much because your little brother needed the money for the private school he was going to, which your mom could barely afford. Your brother had all the potential to get your family out of poverty, so you supported him where you could so he could focus on his school.

You were texting with him when a few girls your age came into the store. You knew them, they were rowdies from around here. They came in laughing and talking loudly. You heard the first glass bottle smash onto the ground followed by more laughter. They came after a while to pay for the beer they wanted.

“Sorry, darling, one of the bottles fell to the ground back there.”, the tall girl said and smirked at you. It wasn’t an apologetic smile; it wasn’t even remotely friendly. It was more of a smile like a tigress who was about to eat you alive if you dared to move. Your heart was beating so fast, you didn’t want any trouble.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I will clean that up.”, you said timidly as she was towering over you.

She just nodded and she and her group left. The last time they have also broken some things and you were sure that they even stole some stuff.

You quickly got a mop and a trashcan to clean the floor in the beer aisle. That aisle was directly in front of the entrance so you could see outside. The group was laughing and drinking outside when another group of older men approached them, they seemed to be angry and the group dropped their beers and started to run. But the tall girl from earlier didn’t react fast enough, the men caught her by her jacket and pushed her to the ground, they started to kick and beat her. One even had a baseball bat.

You don’t know what came over you but as if you were in a fury trance, you stepped outside. Mid-air you grabbed the other end of the baseball bat and pulled strongly once, so it slipped out of the hands of the man, who turned around confused. He wasn’t even fully facing you when the baseball bat hit his jaw and he fell back.

“Homerun.”, you said and stared at the other guys. “I will kill you if you touch him again.” They saw the creepy look in your eyes and grabbed their friend to run off.

You let the baseball bat fall and knelt to the girl who was whining in pain.

“Are you okay? Can you talk? Wait… I will call an ambulance.”, you said and wanted to stand up to go inside to your phone, but she grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t. No ambulance. No police.”, she winced.

“You need medical treatment!”, You said shocked.

“You treat me then.”, she hissed sternly, holding her ribs.

Somehow you brought her inside and sat her down on the couch in the break room. You brought multiple ice packs and gave them to her to hold them to her ribs. She winced again when you cleaned a wound on her lip with a disinfectant. She stared at you as she worked on her wounds. After a moment you met her eyes and blushed at her intense stare.

“You were badass, out there.”, she whispered. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”, You answered simply.

“I’m Bada.”, she said smiling. “You were like an action movie hero. What did you say to him? ‘Homerun.’?”

You chuckled flustered. “I don’t know what came over me…”

“You saved me.”, Bada stated matter-of-factly.

“What did I save you from, Bada?”, You asked.

“A rivaling gang. They think this is their territory, but they lost this area quite a while ago to us.”, she shrugged.

“You are a gang? I thought you were just rowdies!”, You were shocked.

“Rowdies? No. We are not just rowdies. But I won’t bore you with details.”, Bada said suddenly, she must have realized that she had said too much already. She stood up, still wincing and hissing in pain, but she was determined that she didn’t need her care anymore.

She went to the little desk, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote something down. Then she turned and gave you the paper. “If there is something I can do to express my gratitude, don’t hesitate to call me.”, she said.

“Actually, there is something you can do. My life is stressful enough, so… if you couldn’t come here again with your friends, it would be much appreciated.”, you said sternly.

She looked at you for a moment then she turned around and walked out, yet you could hear Bada's chuckle linger in the room longer than you expected.

For a few weeks, you didn’t see her again. You had almost forgotten about her when suddenly someone leaned on your head with her elbow, as you were mopping the floor one evening.

“Hey!”

Bada just laughed at you and you rolled your eyes. “I thought I said that I don’t want you to come here again.”, you huffed as you walked away.

She followed you, grinning. “I know, I really tried to stay away. Then I remembered that technically you only said that I shouldn’t come here with my friends anymore. And look, it’s just me.”

“Wonderful. Grab a beer, pay for it, and then go on with your night, okay?”, you said. Your eyes shot to the entrance; you almost expected those men from last time to enter seeking for revenge.

Bada followed your gaze and realized something. “You’re safe. They won’t come. I made sure of that.”

A shiver ran down your spine when she said the last sentence. But you decided to be cocky, something about Bada emboldened you. “What do you mean, you made sure of that? I made sure of that. I broke that one guy's jaw.”

Bada laughed at that when she grabbed a beer. Then she threw money on the counter before opening the can.

“That much is true. I must admit, I was very impressed.”, she said. “Did you once play baseball?”

You briefly thought of the real reason, but quickly shook her head, blinked away tears, and put on a smile. “Yes. Yes, I played baseball in high school.”

Bada tilted her head like a curious puppy, certainly not buying that. “Ah. What position did you play?”

You knew nothing about baseball. “Pitcher.”

Bada frowned. Shit, wrong answer, you thought. “I don’t believe you.”, she concluded.

“You’d be scared of me if you knew.”, You said.

“I’m scared of nothing.”, Bada said and sat on the counter with her beer, when You put Bada’s money into the cash register.

Then it was Bada's turn to have a shiver go down her spine when she saw your eyes next. They were suddenly very empty and almost pitch black. “Have you ever killed someone, Bada?”

Continue reading: Chapter 2

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 20

yennskier modern au

Given that their relationship is wholly casual and they are the people they are, Yennefer has zero basis to be upset over Jaskier's not prioritizing her.

He calls her three hours late on a Saturday night, bubbling over with profuse apologies and offers to make it right, and by then, Yennefer's not even angry, just feels stupid and a little hollow. 

She shouldn't be surprised. This is how he's always been– forever flaky, forgetful, absorbed in his own world, onto the next bright and eye-catching thing once the shine's rubbed off what he already has.

For whatever reason, Yennefer hadn't thought it would happen with her.

She shimmies out of her black dress and sheds her tights like a snake skin and is sprawled on the couch in her sweats when Jaskier crashes into her apartment with two pints of ice cream and a cheesy smile. He's wearing a silk shirt, the sort that clings to the sweat he worked up climbing the stairs to the top floor. Maybe he ran all the way here.

“Horrible abomination for you and a normal person flavor for me,” he says and offers out her ice cream with a wrinkle of his nose. It's mint chocolate chip. Yennefer’s ordinarily pleased that he doesn’t have to ask, but what if she’d wanted something different this time. 

Jaskier flounces away to rummage for spoons in her sterile, rarely-used kitchen, and the stark light haloes his hair, messy and a little greasy like he's been running his hands through it. Or like someone else has been running their hands through it.

“I really am sorry, Yen,” he says. “Lost track of time at the gym, you know. New workout routine– whew! Really sucks you right in.”

Yennefer wonders who he was with, if he even got their number or their name, if he was at the gym at all. She'd bought the tickets for the event they missed a month in advance, spent an hour this evening diffusing her hair, debated dress choices like she cared about the opinions of the vapid crowds around her. The first few missed calls and unanswered texts had sent a burning fury through her, and she'd paced and raged and hurled insults at nothing. 

How dare he. How dare he.

But it's not as if it's anything new with him. It's not as if they've made any lasting promises to one another. After Geralt’s ceaseless complications and their inevitable crash and burn, the ease of falling into some nameless thing with Jaskier has been ideal. This isn't some great romance. She and Jaskier have a relationship built on commiserating and binging unhealthy food on the couch and having a lot of adventurous, eclectic, and exhilarating sex. 

And yes, he knows her favorite flavor of ice cream and wears a key to her apartment on a chain around his neck and pretends she's his wife sometimes at restaurants or red carpet events and looks at her often like he’s looking now as he settles down on the couch beside her, all crushingly devoted and fond.

“Your hair looks nice,” he says. She digs her spoon deep into her ice cream and unpauses the show she'd been watching.

“I know,” says Yennefer. “My dress looked even better.”

“Wear it when I take you out tomorrow night,” he says, forgetting that he has that dinner with some network exec that he's been talking about for weeks. She doesn't bother reminding him, lets him tuck an arm around her shoulder and kiss her temple.

Years ago, she may have raged and fumed, stiffened stubbornly with the most frigid of lasting cold shoulders, but she doesn't have the energy. Instead, she lets him slip between her spread legs as he kneels on the carpet and his mouth is a revelation as always and she tries to think about anything else but being left behind.

Their ice cream melts on the end table, and she takes him to bed, riding him rough and demanding as he grips the sheets and prays aloud. 

It's as fiercely good as ever. This is what they're good at, this casual sort of taking from one another, shifting the pace without words, kissing until they lose their breath. 

She's not the sort of woman who pines and wallows and lets her feelings get hurt. She's cold and unfeeling and the best he's ever had, and he better accept that and shape up or risk never sleeping in her bed again. 

Yennefer knows that that wouldn’t last long. She would miss him too badly.

Afterward, she curls against his back and touches her mouth between the sweat of his shoulderblades. He pulls her arm around his waist, tangles their fingers against his chest.

“Yen,” he whispers, “you're still angry with me, aren't you?”

“No,” she says. She’s not angry. She doesn’t know what she feels. “You're as much of an imbecile as you've always been. Doesn't surprise me even a little.”

He sighs and wiggles absurdly back against her and she knows he's likely to talk and talk himself to sleep the way he likes to, a ramble of meaningless drivel.

“Don't stop liking me, Yen,” he says, voice small. “I mean, I know I make it all far too difficult. I'm an utterly unreliable forgetful fool and I can't keep a thing straight and I let too much slip through my fingers but I… That is to say, I…”

“Oh hush,” says Yennefer. She can’t bear the thought of him telling her something he doesn't fully mean.

“Don't leave me,” he says on the edge of sleep, and she hates this infuriating, idiotic problem of a man. She hates that she loves him just enough to forgive him almost anything.

[gvfgal]

7. Who Do You Belong To?

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

18+ minors get lost.

A/n: This was out a lot later than I wanted it to be, but nonetheless, it’s here!! My life has been a whirlwind lately and I had to take the time to slow down and get this up! I also have something else coming up that I’m excited to share with you guys so be on the lookout for that. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist, thanks for reading, and enjoy the ride!

Content Warnings: Explicit language, fighting/ arguing, Jake & reader being a *lil* toxic, explicit sexual content, rough/ angry sex, fingering (f!rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of criminal activity, violence, blood, mentions of death…

Word Count: 4.5k

A few nights later, Jake was showering in anticipation of a celebratory night out with the club to mark the finalization of their plan. The following day, the gang would ride up to Washoe, the location of Bobby's casino, to at last set their plan into motion. He’d invited you to join, but you declined. Despite your fondness for the guys, you preferred not to spend too much time at the tavern unless you were working, for personal reasons, of course.

Opting for a quiet night at home, you settled in, most likely going to curl up watching Golden Girls while awaiting Jake's return, likely a little too drunk and eager to burn a hole in the floor with you. Currently, you sat on the bed, occupied by nothing in particular while the tunes of Guns n' Roses played softly through Riley's old CD station—Jake's favorite music for getting ready for a night out.

The tranquility was interrupted by the chime of Jake's phone, a familiar prelude to many a turbulent evening. His phone lay on the nightstand beside the bed, and you initially ignored the first notification. However, as the phone continued to buzz, you grew curious and glanced at the screen. Expecting to see a message from one of the other Barbarians with details about the night's events, you were taken aback to see a girl's name prominently displayed on the screen.

Compounding your surprise, Jake’s lack of a phone password allowed you unrestricted access to the message contents, a privilege you soon regretted.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you couldn’t resist the temptation to read through the messages.

Layla:

Hey Jakey…

Missing U…

The final message was not a text but rather a provocative picture of Layla, her upper half barely covered by a sheer blue fabric

Sheer fury began to take over, a side of you few had witnessed. While most knew you as the reserved girl with a multitude of secrets, very few were privy to the short-tempered, fiery aspect that emerged when you were truly angered. You had always tried to keep this side hidden, wary of appearing vulnerable again.

Yet, whether it was passion or another emotion, the sight of those messages on Jake's phone, especially after everything you two had been through in such a short amount of time, propelled you into the bathroom, shower be damned, to confront him.

With phone in hand, you flung back the plastic shower curtain with a force that made Jake start.

"Jesus, Cherry," he exclaimed, "you scared the piss out of me."

Ignoring his protest, you thrust his phone toward him, “who the fuck is Layla?"

Jake felt his heart plummet, and he struggled to hold back a curse. Truthfully, he hadn't thought about Layla since his time in New Mexico, let alone communicated with her. Those texts were an anomaly, yet they were undeniable evidence on his phone, leaving Jake with little room to deny it.

He shifted uncomfortably under the shower's stream, running a hand through his wet hair. "She's uh... she's a dancer I met in New Mexico."

"Did you fuck her?" Your question cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

"What?" His tone carried a genuine sense of insult, as if you were foolish for even posing the question, despite the glaring evidence before you.

"Did you fuck her, Jakey?" You tossed the endearing nickname back at him mockingly, fueling his rising anger.

He knew the question was justified, especially with the evidence you held in front of you. Yet, a part of him had hoped you saw him differently, like you’d expressed a few weeks prior in your bathroom. He believed you saw him in a better light.

“I didn’t fuck her, Cherry, okay?” Jake turned off the water and reached for his towel from the wall rack, “the guys went to the strip club after our meeting. I got a little wasted, she came back to my room for a private dance and some drugs, and I crashed out. She just gave me her number to keep in touch, but I never used it.”

If that were true, you couldn’t remain too angry with him. It sounded like something you might do on a wild night out. In fact, it eerily echoed a night from spring break years ago. Yet, the wounded part of you resisted believing him.

“Bullshit,” you spat, pivoting on your heels to exit the bedroom once more.

Jake stepped out behind you, towel draped loosely around his waist, his hand holding it in place.

You were tossing his belongings around, on the brink of hurling them out onto the lawn. Whether he returned to Rex's or crashed at Ace's, you didn't care; you just wanted him gone.

"Un-fucking-believable. You live in my house, lay in my fucking bed every night, and still have the audacity to go fuck some stripper? You're disgusting," you yelled, your voice echoing loudly, disregarding the paper-thin walls that made it likely the neighbors could hear the commotion.

"Would you chill the fuck out?" Jake shouted back, his own anger escalating at your accusations.

"You're a liar!"

"I didn't fuck her!" Jake's voice resonated, silencing you instantly. However, your rapid breathing persisted as you locked eyes across the room.

In the heat of the moment, Jake let slip words he instantly regretted. Locking eyes with you, he said, “and so what if I did? We’re just two comfortable strangers fucking. You’re acting like we’re together or something. You’re not mine, and I’m damn sure not yours.”

He saw the hurt flicker across your face before it morphed into an angrier, more spiteful expression.

“Well, that means I can go fuck Nicky, right? Since we don’t belong to each other?”

Having sex with Nicky was the furthest thing from your mind; you were merely trying to wound Jake as deeply as he’d hurt you. You didn’t care how low you had to stoop, you’d do anything to shield your fragile emotions.

And Jake understood this, he knew you didn’t mean what you said since he was aware of your brief history with Nicky before his return to Genoa. He also knew that you knew about Jake’s strong dislike for him, though you didn’t realize the depth of that animosity. Despite understanding your intent, Jake’s upset remained undiminished.

Jake advanced toward you with a furious intensity, his anger so palpable that, under different circumstances, you might have been afraid. He didn’t pause as he closed the distance between you, continuing until he had you backed against the wall, looming over you.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, Cherry,” he warned, and you couldn’t deny that his venomous tone sent heat coursing through your body and stopping right at you center. You glared at him, taking a deep breath before a cocky smirk appeared on your face, “you seem mad, Jakey,” you hissed the nickname again.

You tried not to pry your eyes away from his to watch the droplets of water roll across his skin and down into his towel, so you stuck your chin up in defiance, not willing to back down.

Jake chuckled, “you haven’t seen angry.”

In all honesty, Jake was enjoying seeing you seething like this, it was definitely a turn on he was pleasantly surprised and excited to see.

In an instant, his lips crashed onto yours, a sudden and forceful advance that had your back slamming against the wall. The kiss was anything but gentle— rough and charged with anger as Jake held you pinned. Initially, you responded to his familiar allure despite the circumstances. However, reality quickly set in.

Pushing him away, you watched as he staggered back a few steps. You stared at him, a mix of disbelief and lingering exasperation in your eyes, while his gaze held a complex intensity, one that seemed to be torn between wanting to rip your head off and wanting to plow into you.

Breathing heavily, you locked eyes in a standoff that seemed to stretch on for a bit too long. Finally, unable to resist any longer, your bodies collided once again, this time with equal force from both sides.

Everything was quick, Jake’s loose towel falling from his waist, him hoisting you up against the wall, all the while your mouths never parting. Your nails clawed at his back as you devoured one another, his teeth biting at your bottom lip every time you dug them in.

He pulled away for a moment as he brought the fingers of his right hand up to your mouth, pushing against your lips in silent demand. Your lips parted slowly, and Jake wasted no time dragging two of his fingers across your tongue. A shudder coursed through your body, and a cocky grin began to spread across Jake’s face.

“You’re disgusting,” he mocked as he tilted his head up at you. You wanted so badly to be angry with him, but you couldn’t deny the throbbing between your legs from his smug words and his hard cock pressed against your thigh.

All you could do was dig your nails into him again, which caused a breathy laugh to float out of him. The fingers that were once resting on your tongue began finding their way beneath your lounge shorts and cotton underwear. You were admittedly ashamed for Jake to have found you already wet with need.

He swiftly pushed your underwear to the side before sinking his fingers inside of you, causing your hands to go slack and your mouth to fall open.

“Not so mean now are you, Cherry?”

You moaned in response, deciding to no longer fight the way your body was begging for him. His movements were calculated as he watched your face contort, capturing a particularly high pitched moan of yours in another clumsy kiss.

He continued his movements, using his other arm to keep you held firm against the wall, but before your body could completely settle in the feeling of his fingers stretching you out, he was removing them. You let out a weak moan at the loss of sensation, but couldn’t pout for long before Jake was yanking your shorts away from your body. It was awkward, as he refused to let you down, and you were forced to maneuver this way and that to get them down with his help, but he was oh so determined.

“You couldn’t give this sweet little pussy away even if you wanted to,” he grunted into your ear as your shorts and panties finally fell from around your ankle and to the floor. Jake used his free hand to stroke himself, his tip rubbing against the inside of your thigh as he did so, “you know she belongs to me.”

As much as you wanted to argue against his words, you knew you couldn’t. Instead, you stared into his eyes as he slid himself inside of you to the hilt, staking his claim over your body.

“Tell me,” he goaded as he reveled in the feeling of your nails digging into his shoulders again and the sound of bliss escaping your body. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

Rather than thrusting into you, Jake grabbed you by the base of your ass and began bouncing you onto himself, displaying his strength in a way that was sure to send you to your end quickly.

“You,” you cried out shamelessly, letting your head fall against the wall, “it belongs to you Jake.”

He smiled in satisfaction, but clearly wasn’t finished.

He let you go once more to grip your face, forcing you to look even deeper into his eyes, “who do you belong to, Cherry?”

“I belong to you, Jake.”

In that moment, for however long it lasted, you meant what you said. You liked the idea of being his, only his. You enjoyed the way he was staking his claim on you. Although he knew your threats were empty, he seemingly felt the need to show you where you stood with one another.

Satisfied with your heeding, Jake let his instincts take over and began rocking into you steadily, allowing you to chase the high of your climax.

“Oh my god,” you rasped, holding onto him for dear life. You could still feel a bit of residual anger in his thrusts, and it only made it feel that much better.

“That’s right baby, take your dick.”

You knew that his words were intentional. It was his way of solidifying his loyalty to you without having to say so much. It was such a Jake thing to do, but damn if you didn’t love it.

It was then you realized that you’d more than likely been hasty in your accusations. Sure he might have gotten a little crazy one night in New Mexico, but you didn’t think he slept with someone else.

There was an understanding between the two of you far deeper than either of you would ever be able to express out loud. But in a way that was true to your relationship, the sex always held the truth.

With a few more pointed thrusts, you were calling out his name repeatedly as you crescendoed over the edge.

“God you look so fucking good when you do that,” he shook his head before tightening his grip on you as his end began to take him.

He slid out of you just as he began to spill, catching it in his hands with a deep groan that cause one last ripple of electricity to race through your body.

His forehead dropped on the wall next to you, and you let the sound of his deep breaths bring your pulse back neutral.

“Fuck that bonfire,” he muttered before looking up at you, “we’re gonna smoke a joint, and we’re gonna do that again.”

You went at it for three more animalistic rounds before eventually drifting off to sleep, entwined beneath the covers, the music still playing softly in the background long after you both succumbed to slumber. The following morning, you shared your now customary breakfast together as if the events of the previous night had never occurred, before Jake departed to attend to gang matters.

He arrived at the tavern just after noon, finding the front bar area deserted. However, as he made his way to the back meeting room, he was met with a buzz of activity and excitement as the club prepared to ride out to Washoe Lake where Bobby's casino was located.

Ace spotted him almost immediately, as if he had been expecting his arrival. Pushing through the crowd of leather-clad figures, Ace approached Jake, offering his customary pat on the shoulder.

"There you are," he greeted, his tone casual, “missed you last night. Where were you?"

Jake resisted the urge to smirk, opting for a nonchalant shrug instead, “got caught up with the old lady," he replied, nodding in your direction, eliciting a chuckle from Ace. "You know how it is."

Shaking his head in amusement, Ace mused to himself, "Puppy love."

“Well look,” he insisted, “we just got the all clear from the spotters. Scene is neutral and Bobby is a sitting duck.” Jake nodded in confirmation as Ace continued, “lets go ahead and head out so we can fill before we hit the road.“

Ace called out to gather the attention of the men in the room before signaling for them to roll out. The men began filing out the back door to the dirt parking lot, starting their bikes and filing out one by one.

It was tradition for the guys to fuel up before a ride, even if Washoe was only a half hour drive north of Genoa. And even if their bikes didn’t really need it, every member at least put a gallon in for “good luck” of sorts.

Not only that, but on their way out, they would fill up at the same exact gas station every single time, and had been doing so for the last 30 years.

The Barbarians had been good friends of the family that owned it, and of course, they never complained about the amount of business these meetings brought to them.

Their arrival was always signaled by the monstrous roar of fifty plus bikes pulling up around the pumps, anyone who was filling up before quickly vacated to allow the gang to convene in their seemingly sacred spot.

This time was no different, Jake leaned against the pillar by one of the gas pumps as his bike filled. He watched as the men talked amongst one another, waiting their turns to fill and then wait for departure. It was funny the way he felt so at home but yet still so out of touch with the men.

He caught a glimpse of Nicky amongst the crowd, talking to Frogman and another newer member named Stryker, noticing how he seemed very into whatever it was he was talking about.

After almost half an hour the gang set off, Ace, Jake, Steeljaw, Madcap, and Ski Ball held up the front line, but Nicky wasn’t too far behind, this irked Jake. He knew Nicky had been a member just as long as he had, but he still felt like he didn’t deserve to be so near the head of operations in the way he was. ‘Brother’ or not, he didn’t trust him.

Luckily, before he could really let his thoughts consume him, taken away by the ride on an open road, the group was veering off the main road off onto the route that led them directly to Bobby’s casino.

The casino wasn’t fancy by any means, it main appeal being that it sat just off of Lake Washoe and had quite the view from the main game room. Other than that, it was pretty standard as far as casino’s went.

As far as the crowd, it was always a mix bag. During holidays there was always an influx of well-off people looking for an alternative to the glitz and glam of the Vegas strip. In addition to that were it’s year round middle to old age tourists, also with enough money to waste at a casino. Most of its regulars though were older, washed up men and women in debt up to their shoulders and hardly anything to live for.

Thanks to good intel and proper preparation, the Barbarians were able to breach Bobby’s casino with little to no disturbances. The gang glided through the modestly packed game room, the few people in attendance watching silently, too intimidated to utter a word. Instead, they continued to play their hands and wore out the machines, funneling their money into Bobby’s pockets, and soon, into the Barbarians’.

Bobby was caught completely off guard by their arrival. Before he had a chance to flee, Ace, Jake, and several other long-standing Barbarians stormed his office, while the rest of the gang waited outside the doors for any of Bobby’s men who might try to resist.

It was evident that Bobby was rattled by their presence. Nevertheless, ever the slimeball, he had an ugly, sly smirk plastered on his face as he addressed the group.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, boys?” he greeted, kicking his feet up on his desk. His eyes scanned the group, and before anyone could answer, his gaze fell on Jake with surprise.

“Ho-ly shit,” he scoffed in disbelief, “Jake? Man I haven’t seen you since-”

Jake held up his hand to cut him off. “We can save the pleasantries, Bobby. This isn’t a family reunion,” he said in a clipped tone. “We’re here on business.”

Still wearing his smirk, Bobby cast his gaze over to Ace. “What kind of business?”

Jake rarely saw Ace lose his cool and always admired his composure. However, it was evident that Ace’s patience with Bobby was thin. The club was under a lot of pressure, and they had no time for games.

“Don’t sit there acting clueless like you don’t know you owe us a fuck ton of money. You’ve been cheating us for years, and it may have slid under the radar when Rex was around,” Ace said, taking a step toward Bobby’s desk. Bobby quickly sat up in defense, “but now, we’re here to collect what we’re owed.”

Bobby’s face turned a shade redder, anger boiling beneath the surface. He knew he’d been cheating the Barbarians out of serious money, but he had thought he was clever enough to avoid any repercussions.

The realization that his scheme was unraveling made his clean-shaven head almost steam.

“What are you trying to say?” he seethed, leaning forward with a mock innocence.

Jake, his patience wearing thin, stepped closer. “What we’re saying is we’re setting up shop here,” he said, his voice hard. “We’re taking over operations and financials until we get our all of our money back and then some.”

A tense silence settled over the room as they awaited Bobby’s response. He glared at them for a long moment before a mirthless laugh escaped his lips.

“The fuck you are.”

Apparently, Jake and Ace weren’t the only ones fed up with Bobby’s arrogance.

Steeljaw, never one to hold back, came barreling forward, his large fist connecting solidly with the side of Bobby’s face. Madcap, as if waiting for a cue, lunged forward and landed another blow.

A brief scuffle ensued but ended quickly as Jake stepped in, snatching Bobby up by the collar of his shirt.

“I guarantee, Bobby, we can show you a whole lot better than we can tell you,” Jake spat. “Besides, we aren’t the only ones you owe.”

Bobby’s bleeding face turned toward Ace, confusion and fear mixing in his eyes. “What the fuck is he talking about?”

“The EDS,” Ace said casually, knowing the name would strike a different kind of fear in him. “The Barbarians are in the hole with them. And if we’re in the hole, so are you.”

For the first time, Bobby looked genuinely terrified. He knew the Barbarians could do damage, but the EDS was a different story entirely.

“Don’t get me involved with those guys. They’re fucking crazy. High-profile killers.”

Jake nodded, his grip tightening on Bobby’s shirt as he leaned in. “Exactly, so let me make myself clear. You, your casino, you belong to us now. Completely. Every dollar that passes through this place gets filtered through us before you even get to touch it. All your loyal men who have been helping you pull this off? We’re replacing them.”

Blood dripped from several spots on Bobby’s face, but he still had the nerve to object, “you can’t do that.”

“Hey man,” Ace chimed in, his tone a warning, “this is only meant to be temporary, but we can make it a permanent gig if you want.” He shrugged, “can’t be no Bobby Thompson’s Casino without Bobby Thompson.”

Jake stared at him, his eyes cold, “are we clear here?”

Bobby smirked, despite his injuries, “you’re so much like your daddy, you know? Just like him.”

The comment enraged Jake. Still gripping Bobby’s shirt tightly, he punched him once, then twice. Bobby crumpled onto his desk, coughing and clutching his face.

Jake glared down at him before Ace ushered him out of the room, “come on, kid, we’ve got business to handle.”

Bobby’s men rushed in as they exited, but they knew better than to retaliate. After all, they belonged to the Barbarians now. Once in the hallway, the men began dispersing to handle their different jobs, while others lingered, waiting for orders.

“We’ll probably need to stick around for a while, make sure everything is in order so we can get the ball rolling. You cool with that?” Ace asked.

Jake, still fuming from Bobby’s words, nodded and tried to regain his composure. “Yeah, I’ll hang back. I’ll just call Cherry and let her know.”

Amid the muffled conversations in the hallway, Jake heard Nicky scoffing behind him. Jake knew Nicky had been listening in, and he still had steam to blow off.

He turned to face Nicky, quickly closing the distance between them, “something to say, Nicky?”

Nicky, hot-headed as ever, met Jake with equal aggression, as if it had been brewing all day.

Before the two could escalate, Ace stepped between them, and Ski Ball moved forward, ready to intervene if needed. “Not right now, fellas,” Ace said calmly, “we’ve got too much important business to handle.” He turned to Nicky, “go ride with Fleet and the guys to secure the warehouse location.”

Nicky looked like he wanted to object, but Ace’s stern look made him turn and obey. Not without one last sneer at Jake, though.

Ace waited until Nicky was out of sight before removing his hand from Jake’s shoulder. “Let’s head up to meet Alejandro’s people. They should be here now.”

He turned to leave without waiting for confirmation, instead muttering, “why do we even keep Nicky around? He’s nothing but dead weight, a loose cannon waiting to go off. He’s the main reason Jaxon got killed.”

Ace followed closely behind, his voice low to keep the conversation between them. “You know you can’t keep putting that on him.”

Jake scoffed, “right, I should just blame my dad for putting him in that position in the first place.”

“Hey,” Ace’s voice was firm, stopping Jake in his tracks. Both of their faces were serious as they stood in the empty, quiet hallway, Ace ready to speak his mind on a conversation he so often avoided having with Jake.

“That night haunts us all, Jake. Jaxon’s death haunts us all.”

A sigh escaped Jake’s lips as he finally let his true emotions show, something only Ace ever really saw.

“He was my best friend, Ace,” his voice cracked.

Ace looked genuinely sympathetic. He’d been there through both of the boy’s upbringing since the very beginning, so he was aware of the type of bond that they shared. He also knew how much it devastated Jake when Jaxon was killed.

There was a certain type of comfort that Ace had to reserve for another time, so instead, he offered Jake something else. Something a lot less comforting and a lot more real.

“Jaxon isn’t the first person to die in our line of occupation, and he won’t be the last. You’ve seen that wall at the tavern, it’s full of fallen men. Yes, it’s unfortunate, but it’s a part of the life. You knew it when you joined the club,” he paused and stared directly into Jake’s eyes, “and Jaxon knew it too.”

As much as Jake wanted to argue, he knew Ace was right. But still, it didn’t make the situation any better. And more still, Jaxon’s death could have been avoided had it not been for Nicky’s recklessness and his father’s indifference.

Without another word spoken between them, the men made their way back to the main game room where Alejandro’s men sat at one of the bars, waiting just as they expected the to be.

8. Truth and the Human Condition

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @wetkleenex-gvf @hollyco @dannys-dream @slut4lando @josh-iamyour-mama