#if it already passed we kissed and you didnt know it yet

[pee-com]

to all my epic moots, i give you a new years kiss when the clock hits midnight 💜

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jungkook, sub!jungkook, softdom!reader, oral (f receiving), mentions of blowjob, etc.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, extra

wc: 1709

a/n: the comeback of loser!jk<3

masterlist

"we should- mhph!," he gasped when you interrupted him with yet another kiss, attempting to speak again when your lips barely disconnected, "we should stu-" unfortunately for him, your lips did not stray too far.

you had no interest in holding any type of conversation right now. not when the pretty nerd was alone in your room for the third time this week.

surprisingly, despite your lack of ability to pay attention while jungkook was over at your place, your grades had still gone up. on the down side, this small improvement proved to be enough for your horny brain to make the executive decision that it'd be a waste to spend any more time studying when you could be playing with your pretty boy toy instead.

jungkook never had any complaints. even on the days you did study, you'd bid him goodbye by sitting on his cock and kissing up and down the length of his neck. he always left quite satisfied, though also dizzy with desire.

the sudden addiction you had with the boy couldn't have been helped. it was impossible for you to understand how he didnt have all the girls on campus trailing after him. he was clearly handsome, just incredibly shy. his shyness was so severe, he had trouble holding eye contact with anyone who spoke to him, only ever responding in incomprehensible stammers of nonsensical sentences.

you were more than fine to work with this. you knew it'd only take a while for him to warm up to you, and you were happy to patiently wait. the two of you sometimes conversed, getting to know each other past the math and the sex. he had already warmed up to you quite a bit, able to push his shyness aside for you. you'd break all that down any time you removed your shirt and propositioned yourself to him, but that was just to be expected.

as of now, your midterms were over and you felt no need to study for regular assignments despite jungkook's insistence. this meant you had all the time in the world to rearrange your tutoring sessions to fuck him instead. even as he attempted to form a single sentence, your tongue would find its way to his mouth, interrupting any thought that might break you away from his touch.

"i ... we're supposed to study at least a bit," he reminded you with a breathless tone as your lips went to his neck.

"don't wanna, baby. wanna fuck you instead. don't you want that too?", you whispered when you made your way to his ear, nibbling at it suggestively.

nodding feverishly, his eyes began fluttering shut, hands lamely digging into your hips like they usually did, "if- if you're sure."

you chuckled at his statement. you never had any second thoughts about fucking jungkook. he was a pretty nerd and former virgin whom you had the power to mold into the perfect boy for you. how could you ever pass out such an opportunity?

"i'm sure, pretty," you reassured as your hands went to pull up his shirt, yours joining soon after.

now sitting on his lap, top halves nude, you got up before his eyes could zero in on your breasts, throwing off your pants and helping him out of his own. unlike other times, you did not sit back down on his lap, instead opting to sit on the bed next to him, letting yourself fall back as your legs hung off the side of the bed.

looking up at him, you gestured at him to get off the bed with a quick flick of your eyes. the way he quickly understood and went to kneel between your legs made you chuckle. he was such a smart boy.

to this day, the pretty boy had never eaten you out. the extent of your sexual relationship only went as far as penetrative sex thus far. no oral had been involved for some reason – likely due to your need to jump him every time you saw him.

what you wanted most today was to claim your high on his tongue. you needed the pretty boy between your legs, struggling to lick into your cunt and fumbling to find your clit. you knew that with some guidance you'd easily get his skills at oral perfectly tailored to your tastes. that was the nicest part of having a pretty and untouched boy such as jungkook – you could teach him everything just the way you liked it.

staring up at you with his gigantic doe eyes, his brows furrowed in worry, likely unsure of what to do next whilst simultaneously intimidated by such a suggestive position. your fingers went to his chin, lifting up his face whilst yours lowered to almost meet in a kiss. a pretty whine was felt against your lips when you moved away just before your lips could connect.

"pretty?"

"yes?", a gulp accompanied his inquiry.

"will you be good and lick me?"

a groan left his lips before he began nodding dumbly, practically whining as he confirmed his enthusiasm.

"please ...", he whimpered when you created a larger gap between you, grabbing onto his hair and pushing his face into your bare cunt.

opening your legs wider, you led the pretty boy almost all the way to your pussy, stopping right before letting his lips touch your own.

"tongue out, baby," you instructed.

wordlessly, he followed your instructions as his hands went up to your thighs for support. he gave you a decided nod before leaning in and shyly licking into your cunt. groaning against you, he licked experimentally once, twice, thrice – enough times for his resolve to break and for his shyness to be replaced by want.

your hands continued to guide him by his hair, grinding into his mouth in sync with the movement of his lips. it was easy to fall into a trance while the desperate boy ate at you. it was as if he'd had prior practice, except you knew that wasn't the case. jungkook was clearly just letting his hunger take over, leading to an ethereal feeling you knew only jungkook could give you.

"kookie ... oh, fuck," you cried out, fingers digging harshly into his hair.

he reacted accordingly, groaning at both your voice and the feeling of his hair getting pulled at. his hips were also uncontrollable as they ground into the side of the bed, pathetically humping in hopes of some stimulation.

as he ate at you with an unprecedented desperation, he let out the prettiest whimpers and pleas against your cunt, leaving you lightheaded at how needy he was for you.

"it's so good ... fuck, so good. thank you- thank you, oh, fuck ...."

"tastes so fucking good, oh god ...."

"it's for me? fuck, tell me it's mine. t-tell me it's all for me, please ..."

"oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you ..."

encouraging him, you claimed him as yours, telling him how good he was and how you'd give him anything he wanted. he cried even more at this, continuing to thank you for granting him access to your cunt. you knew he meant this in both a sexual and emotional way, which only made you feel even dizzier.

a few minutes into jungkook sloppily making out with your cunt, you pulled him away a bit (despite his resistance), making him look up at you.

under you, you found foggy glasses, messy hair, and half his face covered in your wetness. and even with all that, he looked like the prettiest thing you'd ever had between your legs. he whined the moment you separated him, attempting to reconnect his lips with your cunt, but you remained stubborn.

"baby, you're doing so good for me," you wiped a bit at his lips, though he misinterpreted your intentions, instead taking your fingers into his mouth and suckling.

he was a natural at being a needy mess.

"need you to play with my clit, though, pretty. c'mere, like this. let me show you ..."

with your fingers, you showed him where he'd find your clit, instructing him to stick out his tongue for you again and kitten-lick at it. he went the extra mile and began suckling at it after just a few moments, making your eyes roll back and your toes curl.

going back and forth between licking at you and suckling at your clit, his intensity only increased the more you cried out for him, beginning to hump against his face with zero finesse. the squeaks of the bed could be heard as he himself bumped his cock against it, whimpering into your cunt out of neediness.

"g-gonna make me cum, kookie ... oh, fuck, i- i'm gonna cum, pretty. eat it f-for me? p-please?"

you hadn't planned on becoming so needy for him, but you also hadn't planned for him to be such a quick learner. he simply nodded into your cunt, speeding up his movements as he grumbled against your lips, clearly growing desperate to make you reach your high.

this was easily one of the most intense, neediest orgasms you'd ever had. your voice reached a pitch it never had before as you shamelessly used jungkook's face to get off. at some point his nose began nudging against your clit, almost causing you to black out in pleasure. by the end of it you had been singlehandedly doing all the work whilst jungkook let you guide his face however you wanted.

"fuck ... kookie," you breathed once your high subsided, "c'mere, baby."

climbing up the bed, he hovered over you, shy in initiating a kiss but putting his all into it the moment he realized how into it you were, suckling your juices out of his tongue and moaning into his mouth.

"was ... was it good?", he murmured into your neck once your lips had disconnected.

"it was so good, baby. you're such a quick learner," you caressed his back reassuringly, ignoring the hardness poking against you for a moment.

"want me to try it on you?" you asked, chuckling when he suddenly stilled.

"o-oh ... you want to?"

"lay on the bed, kookie. let me show how good it feels," you grinned at him, knowing you were about to blow his mind yet again.

[i-cant-sing]

Time Traveller AU pt3

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 4 is here. Find the AU masterlist here! Check out my MASTERLIST here.

"This is so unnecessary" you whispered to the man sitting behind you. "Everyone's staring." Your eyes scanned over the mass of people in town, as your horse passed through.

You thought you would get your own horse, but Baldwin had other plans apparently, as he just picked you up from your armpits and plopped you in front of him on his horse.

You could feel him smiling from ear to ear. "I think they're just in awe of your beauty. I would suggest getting used to the stares, now."

You rolled your eyes. "Dont flatter me. I know how I look, besides- I was referring to us sharing a horse. Its unnecessary and its why everyones looking at us."

"I think its unnecessary to get another horse for you. You dont know how to ride them, and believe me when I tell you- these horses are wild. I dont want you to get hurt when they kick you off." He teased.

You scoffed. Alright, maybe you werent an equestrian, but how hard would it be to ride a horse anyways? Didnt Baldwin learn to ride one when his right arm was paralysed and he had to do with his thighs mostly to control the horse?

"Still, I couldve gotten a carriage. Or better yet walked? Maybe even ride a horse with someone else-" You quieted down as you felt a pair of lips peck behind your ear.

"Dont even think about it. Why would I let anyone touch you, be this close to my princess-" his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you back closer to him. "Wouldnt you prefer your soon-to-be-husband to help you instead?" He whispered as his hand slowly found its way to rest on your belly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you pulled his hand away and smacked it when it tried to touch your waist again. "Behave, Baldwin." You admonished with a smile as people looked at you. You dont want to create a scene (especially not one where history would report some lady smacking King Baldwin).

You getting flustered and angry only made him chuckle, as he leaned down to give the back of your head a kiss.

Enough with the PDA already. Arent medieval times supposed to be more conservative?

Ugh. Your lips formed into a thin line. Maybe he'll back off when you reach Salauddin and he sees how other Muslims act.

With some entourage accompanying you guys, you travelled away from the kingdom for almost an hour or so until you crossed that one sand dune beyond which Salauddin and his people were camping.

Before reaching the dessert, you had asked Baldwin if he had something that you could cover yourself up with. You want to adhere to the customs and not accidentally piss off one of the greatest Muslim rulers. Sure, you could've worn something more concealing before leaving the castle, but neither of you wanted people to know that you two were going to meet Salauddin.

Baldwin nodded and in one swift motion, he had removed his cloak and wrapped it around you, bringing the hood over you.

"But- what about you?" you looked back at him with wide eyes. People didnt just wear full length clothes back then just because of modesty, but also to protect their skin from sun damage.

He smiled. "I'll be fine, princess." No, you wont. And you're not risking yet another historical change by having the king of Jerusalem getting skin cancer.

Immediately, you tore off the bottom of your tunic and made a keffiyeh (a headdress) which covered both his head and his face. "There, now we can go."

From the keffiyeh, only his eyes were visible, which crinkled up. "Did you cover me up because you dont want women staring at me in awe?"

"What? Of course not. You just recovered from leprosy. Your skin would be sensitive to the harsh sun and heat of the desert-" He cut you off by laughing lightly.

"Whatever you say, princess. Whatever you say."

As you neared the camps, you saw men dressed in battle armour coming out of the tents, and you from the way he walked, the way he dressed, even his mere presence could make you recognise Salauddin from a mile away.

The horse stopped and Baldwin got down first before helping you down. You followed him as he walked towards Salauddin, who was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. An erie silence settled all around you, the sound of air whooshing being the only thing audible for a few moments. Salauddin stared into Baldwin, while men from both sides glared at each other, one hand on their swords, ready to fight.

"Salam alaikum." Baldwin spoke first.

Peace be upon you.

You heart dropped for a second when Salauddin didnt reply back immediately. With your hood covering your face, you couldnt exactly see his expressions, only resorting to his body language and sounds to anticipate his mood.

Salauddin's lip quirked up. "Walaikum asalaam." He opened his arms and both men embraced each other for a few moments and you could feel the tension around you finally melting away as men from both sides finally started conversing with each other normally now that their kings were talking amicably.

Salauddin patted his back and raised a brow at you. "Who taught you the keffiyeh to cover that sore face of yours?" Baldwin chuckled. "My fiancee- Y/n, princess come here will you?" You walked closer to Baldwin. "This is Y/n, and we're both here today to invite you to our wedding. Darling, say hi, will you?"

You gulped. "Assalamu alaikum".

Salauddin's ears perked up. "Walaikum asalam. That was perfect pronunciation. Have you been taught by Arab scholars?"

"About that..." Baldwin chuckled nervously. "Y/n, why dont you go there with the ladies? They seem pretty eager to meet you." Salauddin nodded his head and a couple of women, all wearing burqas approached you. "This is princess Y/n. Take good care of her." Salauddin told them as they took you to their tent, where only women remained.

Meanwhile, Salauddin let Baldwin in to his tent.

"So, whats the secret?" Salauddin asked as he sat down, beckoning Baldwin to do the same.

He took a deep breath. "Y/n is... a Muslim."

Salauddin blinked at him. "What?"

"She's Muslim." He repeated. "So could you just tell me about the Islamic wedding ceremony? Nikkah, right?"

Salauddin stared at him. "Are you joking?"

"No."

"You cant marry her, Baldwin."

"Why not?"

"Because she's a Muslim and you're Catholic!"

"So? I havent seen it stop Muslims from marrying non muslims."

"No- only muslim men can marry non muslim women. It doesnt work the other way around."

"Salauddin, thats sexist."

"Its not sexist- nevermind, I cant help you understand it. But no, you cant marry a Muslim woman."

"What if... shes not Muslim?" Salauddin gave him a puzzled look. "I... believe Y/n may be using religion as an excuse not to marry me."

"If she doesnt want to marry you, why do you wanna marry her?"

"She does want to marry me, she's just... confused. Look, Salauddin. She cured me- CURED leprosy. This doesnt happend to anyone. She- she has something holy about her. How else do you explain this miracle?"

"So what? You think God and what- Jesus? chose this girl for you? That they gave her healing hands to cure your disease? You think shes of divinity?"

Baldwin smiled softly. "I do." Salauddin rolled his eyes. "Youre infatuated with her, Baldwin. Its temporary. She performed some magic, or tricks and you think she's divine? Do not make a fool of yourself."

"Then explain how I suddenly got well, Salauddin. Youve travelled the world, you sent me your best Arab healers, you believe in sciences- explain to me how I was cured of my incurable disease."

Salauddin gazed at the young king. "Let me guess, she claimed that she's been sent by Almighty God to cure the King and save Jerusalem, and in return, you must marry her or give her your throne to fulfil some prophecy?"

Baldwin chuckled, leaning back against the ottoman a bit. "Actually, she's been denying that she did anything to help me, she keeps on making excuses to marry me, she avoids my affection- and if I'm being honest, attention." Salauddin's eyes furrowed a bit. What game are you playing?

"Maybe... Black magic?" Salauddin is well aware of witchcraft, its been mentioned by his religion too.

Baldwin shrugged. "She's far too angelic to be associated with that. I'm sure there would be prominent signs if she was involved in any sort of magic or witchcraft."

Salauddin was about to reply but just then, his guards came running in.

"Salauddin! There's a sandstorm coming!" Immeadiately both kings sprung up.

"Tie up the animals! Tell everyone to get in and take cover!" Salauddin barked orders at his men.

The women in your tent were immediately informed of the situation and they quickly started taking measures, with the men outside helping to nail down the tent and gathering the baby animals and children, bringing them inside the tent.

You got up to leave and go to Baldwin, but the women pushed you back down, telling you its not safe to leave.

"The storm is here! You can't leave now!" Well, alright then. You plopped back down on your seat, when you heard someone cry out loud and your eyes immeadiately saw the liquid on the floor.

Of course it was the pregnant lady.

The woman had went into labour and everyone rushed to help her. Everyone but you. Nuh uh, youre not meddling in this time, lest anyone else accuses you of having magic healing hands.

Another harrowing scream pierced through the room, with the harsh winds threatening to blow away the tent adding on to the tension.

Maybe I could just stand near them, just to make sure they are using proper hygiene. Or actually just to see how midwifes worked in the past. Yes, its for science.

You stood near the midwifes, out of their work field because you dont want to be an obstacle. Of course, you may have had caught the sight of the poor woman and her... vagina, which youre ashamed to say has made you sick to your stomach because child birth is not a beautiful phenomenon and fuck this shit youre never having babies.

After almost an hour, the baby was finally out. The stench of sweat and blood and the nightmarish sights you'd caught glimpses of had made you want to throw up when suddenly the enviorment turned gloomy. And it hit you.

The baby wasnt crying.

The mother who was previously crying from labour, was now crying due to a different kind of pain.

You felt for her, you truly did. Carrying a child for 9 months, making sure to take every precaution, not to mention the constant prayers for a healthy baby (and for some, specifically a boy) otherwise the mother would be blamed.

The midwife put the dead baby in the bassinet beside you before tending back to the grieving mother, who was still bleeding from down there.

"Poor Fatima." You heard one of the women whisper to her friend. "To wait for 8 years before she finally conceived... only for her child to die before he could even take his first breath."

Your heart broke as you heard them, the woman sobbed inconsolably. You turned your head to look at the baby in the bassinet and subconsciously, you wondered what went wrong.

Doesnt look like he was choked by the umbilical cord... and he doesnt look cyanotic either, so he probably wasnt dead inside the womb. Your eyes widened. Maybe-!

Your hands went to pick up the baby before halting mid air. No. No. I cant interfere- I cant mess with history more than I already have. I cant save a child who was destined to die-

Your head whipped to the woman who let out a shrill, devastating cry, begging God to let her son live.

Fuck it. You picked up the baby. Maybe this baby was destined to live.

Immeadiately you checked for breathing before putting the baby on a table nearby and placed two fingers on the left side of his chest, starting compressions.

"1. 2. 3-" you muttered under your breath, trying to recall what was drilled into your head when you were attending first aid classes. Pinching the baby's nostrils, you breathed into his mouth, eyes watching as his chest rise and drop. You repeated the compression set 2 more times when the baby finally took a huge breath and began crying.

Picking up the baby, you ran towards the bucket of water and started cleaning the baby's head and face off the mix of blood and amniotic fluid, while massaging his back and his feet to encourage him to breathe on his own.

After a few minutes, you turned around to cover the baby with a cloth swaddling him up nicely and thats when you finally looked around you.

Everyone was staring at you in shock, the sound of the baby crying echoing the silence.

Shit. You rocked the baby gently as you handed him to his mother, who also looked at you in shock with tear streaks on her cheeks. I hope... they didnt see me do CPR.

Yes, damage control. Thats what you need to do. You cleared your throat. "Um- yes, Allah has blessed you with a beautiful son. Lets be grateful to Him." And the women slowly began talking again and agreeing, some saying that they'll go give sadaqah (charity to please God) while others were going to go pray.

When you turned around, you saw Baldwin and Salauddin standing at the entrance of the tent, the former having a beaming smile while the latter looked in surprise.

Maybe it was the stench of sweat and blood in the room, maybe it was emotional situation you went through (high key nauseating), or maybe it was the mix of amniotic fluid and blood on your mouth from when you saved the baby, but the next moment, you lost consciousness.

-

When you woke up, you noticed you were in a different, much bigger tent. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up with a groan.

"You're finally awake." You looked up to see Salauddin sitting at his desk in the other corner-

Salauddin? Your hands went to draw your hood over your face but you realised your (or well, Baldwin's) cloak had been replaced with a cotton niqaab that veiled your entire face except for your eyes.

Standing up, you looked in his direction. "Where's Baldwin?"

You heard him chuckle darkly. "He left."

"He left?" You heard him walk over to you, and instinctively you took a step back, narrowing your eyes at his audacity.

He towered over you, face neutral as he looked down at you. His hand gestured to his right, where a chess set was placed on a table.

"Do you play?" He asked, eyes never leaving yours.

Hesitantly, you nodded. He sat down, beckoning you to do the same.

"Ladies first." He let you start the game. "I should tell you though- if you wish to leave out of this place alive, you'll have to win."

What the shit? Is this some sort of psychological game? Or is this actually happening? I mean, people in the medieval times were crazy. Just because he's muslim shouldnt excuse him from insanity.

You picked up the white pawn. "Where is Baldwin?"

"I told you, he's gone." He moved his black pawn. "He sold you to me."

You looked up at him. What? "Focus on the game. You do not wish to know what will your fate be if you were to lose this game." You immediately picked up your bishop and moved it.

Salauddin clicked his tongue as he took your bishop. You moved your pawn again. "Why- why would he sell me? I'm his fiancee." You asked, your eyes never leaving the board. You're playing for your life here.

"Well, when we saw you use black magic to save that baby- oh, I took your other pawn too, mhm-" He smiled as he looked at your furrowed brows. "And then I told him that you cant be a muslim if you were using black magic."

"Black magic? When did I use it?!" you asked exasperatedly as you lost your knight.

"We saw you muttering something when you were "saving" that child." Muttering? When was I muttering? "One of the ladies even said they heard you whisper some repetitive words to a tune too."

Repetitive words-? You wanted to bang your head against concrete when you realised he was referring to you doing compressions to the rhythm of Stayin Alive by the BeeGees. This one is not your fault because the instructor taught you guys that.

"I was not doing black magic. Even so, who are you to decide if I am a Muslim or not?" You moved your other knight.

"I am Salauddin Ayubi-"

"So?" Salauddin looked at you.

So? So? No one has ever dared to ask him questions.

"Your real name is Yusuf. Salauddin is just a laqab, hm?" Your eyes never left the board as you made your move. "Do you think you're above me? Above Baldwin? Above anyone?" You didnt let him answer as you gestured at him to continue the game. "I dont recall you being a prophet. I dont remember you being a caliph even. So, Salauddin tell me what gives you the right to judge if I'm a muslim or not?" You asked as you took his pawn.

Salauddin narrowed his eyes at you, making his bishop take another pawn of yours. You didnt let it deter you as you practically snatched the same bishop of his with your rook. "Just because youre a muslim, you think you have the right to judge me?"

He scoffed at your words, making his move but you took yet another black pawn. "I am a Muslim. I was born in a Muslim family-"

"Exactly." You took more of his black pawns as he took your white ones. The board was mostly empty now. "You were born in a Muslim family. Do you honestly believe your Lord is happy with you because you were born in the right family? Is that the essence of what being a Muslim is?" Salauddin now looked at you but you didnt let your eyes stray away from the chess board. "Are you a Muslim because you were born in a Muslim family? Or were you born in a Muslim family because Allah knew you wouldnt find your way if you werent? If you were born in a catholic family, youd be a catholic? Lets say you are a Muslim, how do you know youre a good enough Muslim who can judge me? How do you know Allah will let you in heaven when youre on Earth declaring so and so is doing magic and isnt a muslim? Only Allah can judge us, not you Salauddin Ayubi." You stated calmly as you made your final move. "Thats checkmate."

You finally looked at him, your eyes holding satisfaction at his distressed face, though he masked it well.

How you wished to reveal to him that he was playing against a grandmaster whose parents made her take chess as a hobby since she was 6 because they believed it would make her smart and get into good colleges (it did. Thanks mom and dad.)

"Salauddin, we can play chess all you want but dont lie to me. You know I wasnt doing magic, and you know that I know that Baldwin wouldnt just leave me behind. So please, tell me, where is Baldwin?" Before he could reply, you continued. "Remember, lying is a sin."

At this, his eyes finally showed amusement. "He's outside, helping the women sew a niqaab for you. He wants to embroidery a flower in or something." You rolled your eyes at that. Of course, leave it to Baldwin to do cute romantic stuff.

Salauddin leaned back in his chair as he studied you. "So, how did you bring the baby back to life?"

"I prayed to Allah." He quirked a brow at you. "I also cleared his nostrils. They were plugged with fluid, so he didnt know or couldnt breathe with his lungs. Then I just warmed up his body a bit and he was crying- the baby was never dead. You know that no one can be saved from Azrael if Allah has written for that person to die."

Angel of death.

He gave you a nod, though his eyes watched you curiously. "How were you so sure that I knew you were a Muslim?"

You shrugged. "I just did." Why wouldnt you know when he was playing chess with you to check your psychology? Not to mention, he allowed you to be covered with a niqaab even when you were unconscious and let you stay in his tent? If he even doubted that you were a non muslim, you more than likely wouldve been treated far badly.

Salauddin chuckled. Of course, youd keep your secrets. "Then you know that as a Muslim woman, you cannot marry anyone of another faith."

"I dont plan on marrying Baldwin." You scoffed. "I already rejected him and have tried to sway his mind, but hes set on his decision. I think he actually believes that Im an angel or something divine."

He quirked a brow at you. "So he's forcing you to marry him?"

"I wouldnt say force- well, actually I would say that. But he doesnt treat me badly or anything. He's very sweet, even when I avoid him."

Salauddin clicked his tongue. "I could help you." You looked at him. "You are a Muslim, a part of the ummah. I could-"

"No. If youre suggesting starting a war, no." "Well, not a war, youre not that important." Damn. He grinned at your offended eyes. "I meant, I could send some people to sneak you out or-"

"No, if Baldwin finds out youre involved in any way in my escape he would-" you cant risk an extra crusade happening because of a damsel in distress, aka you. It would put the fate of Jerusalem at risk as well as the fate of the Ayyubid dynasty.

Wait. Ayyubid dynasty. They ruled over Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Yemen and so on. But Egypt was the learning center of the Islamic world during this time because they focused on arts and education which meant they hosted the world's greatest scholars there.

"Salauddin, can you get me to Egypt?" The king of Egypt, or sultan of Egypt looked at you quizzically. "I can, but why? Do you have family there?"

"What? No, I'm not running away to Egypt. Look, I just-" you cant explain to him about your escape plan that you were going to use the help of scholars to help you make the tools which you can use to fix your broken time machine. So, you lie. "You're someone who enjoys learning, right? I know you like history and sufism, and I would just love to get to know more about it."

With his head resting on his palm, he studied you. You intrigued him, and although he sensed you had ulterior motives, he agreed. "I cant take you there personally because I am busy here, but I could send you there with some trusted men." You smiled under your veil. This is exactly what you want. And almost as if he could sense your glee, he continued. "Your madly-in-love fiance wont send you alone, or at all."

"Let me worry about Baldwin, and he'll agree because I'm not running away. I'll work on my escape another way in which no one has to die." You said, finally standing up and walking out of the tent to find Baldwin who was sitting with the other veiled women, his eyes focused on the needlework.

"Baldwin." You called out with your hands behind your back as you walked upto him.

He looked up and his eyes practically sparkled at the sight of you. "Princess!" He stood up and immediately went to hug you but you stopped him before he could, nodding your head at onlookers. "Oh right, sorry." He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, ears turning pink as the women giggled.

He then picked up the niqaab he'd been working on, the blue cloth matched the color of his eyes. "Look, I made that flower." There was embroidery done on the sleeves. And of course, amongst the mass of tiny, delicate pink and white flowers, Baldwin made the biggest, slightly wonky flower.

It brought a smile to your lips. Gosh, he's such a-

You shake your head. No. No. You cant.

"Its beautiful, Baldwin. Thank you." He grinned at your praise, nodding his head as he folded it up. Still holding the embroidered niqaab in his hand, he walked over to Salauddin and shook his head. "We should get going now. Thank you for hospitality, Salauddin." The Kurdish nodded. "Of course. You're always welcome. And if you have any more questions about our traditions and rituals, dont hesitate to reach out to me. Although your wife to be seems quite knowledgeable on the subject herself." Your eyes widened every so slightly. Did Salauddin- did he just acknowledge that you're not as dumb as he thought you were.

Baldwin smiled before leading you towards his horse, helping you get on it.

Salauddin watched as your entourage left, and his mouth twitched.

You have piqued my interest, Y/n. He called his right hand man.

"We still have spies in Baldwin's castle, right?" The man confirmed. "Excellent. Have them find out all they can about lady Y/n. And prepare a small entourage ready to go to Egypt."

"Wont we be staying here, sultan?" The man asked, confused as to why Salauddin would be leaving Jerusalem this early.

"We will, but I will make a short trip in between."

Of course, Salauddin cant just let you go to Egypt alone. The sultan will have to make proper arrangements to welcome you there.

And to find out what you're really there for.

He returned to his tent, his eyes landing on the chess board. Walking upto it, he looked at how you had defeated him.

Salauddin smirked, using his finger to knock down the white king.

It'll be fun to make Baldwin jealous.

Part 4 is here!

[m0chis-cafe]

Hello! This is my first time making a request, if it's okay, can I get a reader with Lillia, Rook, Vil and Leona who has recently been suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home (comfort in the end) Please? 😔🎀

i absolutely love this, i get horrible insomia. i gotchu♡

(edit: i ended up focusing on one more than the other in some, but both are mentioned. hope u still like it *mwah*)

reader suffering from insomnia and anxiety about returning home.. ⋆⑅˚₊

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mentioning of anxiety, and panic attacks (there will be major comfort though), sitting in laps, kissing, joking to help, mentioning of what happens in each of the characters books (i hope yall have read em before but js in case)

characters: leona, rook, vil, and lilia

leona kingscholar🦁

you paced the botanical gardens on campus, hands tangling in your hair s you thoughts went a million miles a second..

how am i going to get home?

how is my family.. god i miss them..

if im forced to stay here.. how do i even pass these crazy magic classes?

do the people here ive come to know even want me here or are they forced to cause i cant leave..

every new thought was another anxiety that just caused your breath to quicken. your thoughts were flooded with negatives.. if you had magic this is what youd assume a magic blot would feel like.. so much negative emotions piling into you all at once.

you eventually sat below a tree, knees curled to your chest as you tried to calm yourself down. it didnt help that you hadent slept in days, insomnia only getting worse since coming to nightraven.

yet no matter what you did your breaths wouldnt calm, your hands kept shaking, and you couldnt hear or see straight. you almost jumped right out of your skin as you felt hands grab your own that covered your face. looking up you saw brown hair and ears.. leona?

his voice made its way to you eventually, "herbavore? herbavore.. seriously c'mon your worrying me. ruggie said you ran off but i didnt think itd be this bad." he mumbled to himself before his hands slipped dwon to your biceps, "hey, listen to me." he spoke firmly.

your eyes eventually meet him, your breaths calmling slightly at his presence. taking large breaths through your lips as you looked up at him, arms shaking in his hold. "dont fall out on me now, we need you." he spoke lowly as he scopped you up with ease, placing you betwen his legs, "your alright now herbivore, whatevers going on in that head of yours, its gonna be alright, yea?" he placed a kiss on your forhead allowng you time to breath normally.

when your breaths calmed and body began to calm, you sighed and leaned more into his body, "thank you.. leona". he chuckled deeply, sloching more down the tree, letting you fall into his chest. "its fine kid, just glad your fine. did something happen?". your eyes widened before spilling, explaining your thoughts to him slowly, anxious to be a burden. when you ended he rolled his eyes and strted laughing.. at you?..

huh?

"you seriously think anyone here doesnt want you here? i think at this point those first years would fall apart without you, and as for finding your way home, crawley better. or ill personally kick his ass, alright herbavore?" you simply nodded your head and leaned into him smiling, "your really not as bad as they say you are.."

vil schoenheit🧺

vi had become obsessed with training for the dance competittion, day after day everyone was practicing for hours every day. you tried to be nothin bt supportive but your insomnia had only gotten worse with the recent stress of the compettition..

what will happen if we dont win?

everyone else looks so tired..

god im so tired.. when was the last time i slept multiple hours?

i wish i could just go home already..

you guys had gotten the first brea of the day, you sat against the wall between kalim and ace as they yapped about how excited they were to preform next week. listening to them had you distracted, your eyes fluttering closed.

a hand was placed on your shoulder, looking up you saw jamil crouched in front of you, "are you alright? you look terrible prefect" you heard ace and kalim repremand him for being so blunt, but you just shook your head trying to wake up, "im fine jamil.. just tired, thank you though"

he looked skeptical but quickly turned to make sure kalim was drinking water and taking a proper break. ace mumbled something under his breath that you barley couldnt catch before he stood up and walked towards vil who was with rook and epel, who were talking across the room.

you saw vil look down at ace with his arms crossed, he glanced at you as ace pointed a finger to you. vil abandoned his conversation with epel and rook, shooing away the others around you, "why wouldnt you say that you havent been sleeping, thats not proper conditions for you to be proforming in prefect."

"im fine vil-", he rolled his eyes and cut you off, "you look anything but, stand" he reached a hand down to you, pulling you up from the ground. your head swam with spots when you rose too quickly, stumbling into vil.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you up, "poision.. is somethng truley wrong?" you looked up at him, eyes wide as he read you like a book. he quickly took your hand and dragged you out of the practice room and into the lounge at pomefiore.

he sat you down in one of the chairs and crouched in fron tof you, holding your face in his hands, "speak to me.." you sighed before explaining what had been happening, the stresses and not sleeping, the thoughts of never being able to go home.

he sighed and stood, sitting beside you and tugging you into his side, "i wish you would speak up when this happens, you know that id never wish to add to your burdens." he placed a kiss to your forhead before continuing, "we will find a way for you to go home, no matter how bitter sweet itll be, i do hope we find a way for you to go back and forth.. we would all miss you terribly here.. especially me." at his words you sighed and relaxed into his side, "ill find a way back, i could never just leave you guys.. especially you.

rook hunt🪶

you thought itd be easy to hide your emotions recently, but knowing rook he proably could already see through your mind..

i hope i can go home soon..

i wonder if time has passed back home and if my family is worried about me..

i need to stop stresing, i havent slept at all recently

these magic classes are getting harder with the lack of magic

you thought you kept a pretty good mask on arround others, yet as soon as you were walking from potions alone with rook he spoke up, "mon cheri.. have you been sleeping enough? your beauty is as blinding as always, alas you seem more tired than usual."

you shouldve known better than to try to keep something from him, he finds out everything sooner rathar than latter, "im alright, just worried about getting home, i guess its been affecting my sleep.."

"well theres no use in worrying cheri! i garuntee they will find a way to send you home! with that said i think a long rest for you is in place." he spoke cherfully as he laced your hands together and dragged you to pomefiore, you smiled at his actions and followed along.. he always here to look after me

lilia vanrough🦇

after dealing with blots from every other house, you thought hanging around diasmonia would be calming. yet as you sat in the lounge with silver, sebek, lilia, and malleus your thought still didnt stop running..

whos going to over-blot next?

will the next one be more powerful.. maybe too powerful..

i didnt have these struggles at home

even my sleep scheduals gotten worse.. late nights staying up with lilia and idia playing games have become much more often an occurance

im supposed to be relaxing, just breath..

your mind spaced out as you looked at the floor in front of you while stuck in thought. your hands tangled into your blazer sleeves as your breath quickened, your vision began to see spots before you felt a hand rest on top of your own in your lap.

"prefect, is something the matter?" your head snapped up and saw lilia who was sat beside you, a concerned look for once took over his boyish grin, "your not looking too good.. are you ill?" he placed a hand on you forhead attempting to asses if you were running a fever.

"im alright.. just missing home" you mumbled, offering him a small smile as you placed your head on his shoulder. he sighed, raisng your hand to press a kiss on the back of your hand, "well find a way for you to go back, i promise it my dear."

he wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to lean more into him, "in the mean time, you havent been sleeping and its clear, get some rest prefect" his boyish grin returned as he pecked your cheek. he was right.. everything was gonna be ok.

you finally felt comfortble enough to fall into a deep sleep against him, with grim curled up into your lap mumbling about his dreams of tuna. surronded by people you became found of over you stay at nightraven, it wouldnt be bad to stay here, but you knew that there would be a way home.

[lilygaragee]

new year’s kiss

☆note: hii guys!! ive decided to create a new account here after a small break so please dont go harsh on me 🙏 english is not my first language but i tried my best so i really appreciate all of the support 🫶

☆warnings: mentions of alcohol, drug use, swearning, cheating(?), smuttish but not really smut, fluff

you were high out of your mind, watching a film on your couch with peter (your current boyfriend) you honestly hated him, you hated the way he treated you and the way you basically became a drug addict because of him.

as you two were laying in your apartment that obviously you pay for because peter is broke. Your phone vibrates from underneath your back, you silently lift your back to see who texted you without peter looking into your phone. It was sarah, you best friend since kindergarten saying that she hosts a party on new year’s eve and that you should totally come, you read the message quickly enough for Peter not to be able to and he immediately asks you „who is texting you again?” „oh its just my mom asking if i would want to come to spend new year’s with her” „i want to go to a club baby” he says giving you a small kiss on your forehead „ill go alone then” as a response he just hums and goes back to watching the film

☆☆☆☆

You have decidedto wear your favourite black dress with black thighs and shiny heeles, obviously you changed in the car so you didnt have to worry about fighting with peter that you look like a slut, he hates we you look good and you know it, he thinks that you will chase him for tne rest of his life, he hasn’t realised yet that you are so sick of him, his habits and just his entire personality, you want to kick him out of your place but you know that you dont have enough strength to do it alone.

„hey im here can you come out?” you stare at the text you sent and wait for sarah to respond or at least see the message but then you see her cherry red dyed hair running up to your car „girl cmon youre still scared to come to my house alone?” she says laughing, „im very scared of your neighbours” you respond to her looking over at the house thats right next to sarah’s

As you two were getting ready in sarah’s bathroom blasting music snd makeup just trashed everywhere you ask her „do you have a list who’s coming?” „yeah overhere” sarah passes you her phone with people’s name’s „who tf are these random people” „omg stop you literally know them” you still look at the phone confused as you try to recognise any of them as you notice a familiar name „who’s oscar piastri?” „oh he’s my friend’s friend or something like that, i dont really know the guy. What is he cute?” „i mean..maybe a little?” you still scroll through his pictures curiously „wait aren’t you with peter still?” „we broke up but he still says he loves me and wants to stay at my place but he gives me free weed do i guess its fine” trying to explain how you feel about peter is probably one of the hardest thing to do.

People stared coming to sarah’s house around 8pm and it was just a regular house party with people drinking, smoking or doing other stuff, you were looking out to see if the oscar guy that caught your attention was already here but you could not find him anywhere, after a while you just gave up, not having any hopes about seeing him, you came up to a random guy that was rolling joints and asked to borrow one he agreed after some negotiations and you went to the garden to smoke it in peace, you were sitting beside the pool smoking while a guy comes up to you and sits next to you, you were honestly shocked because wtf is he doing?? and then you notice the similarities between him and the guy that you were stalking on instagram „oh uh you want some?” you ask him shyly not confident at all like you planned in your head to be „yeah sure” he smiles and takes the joint from your hand. You’ve made the small talk while you were sharing the weed and you can already feeling it mess with your head and you can feel your mouth getting dryer by the second. „what your feeling it already?” said oscar laughing a little. „yeah” you said giggling „cmon lets go inside” oscar said standing up and reaching his hand to take yours to help you stand up, you stood up groaning, not wanting to go near people, but as soon you walked into the room full of people dancing to house music you slowly started getting more comfortable and more high. Oscar was right next to you all the time dancing and laughing with you, your just dancing your legs out of any strength at this point you feel so tired as you puy or head on oscar’s chest humming something while people around you are still dancing „hey are you ok? wanna go lay down” Oscar just see you nodding and takes you upstairs.

You were laying on Sarah’s bed in the only room that was left because people were probably having sex in all the other ones, but you weren’t there alone, you were laying on oscar’s chest listening to his heartbeat and listening to his monologue which didnt maks any sense, he probably doesn’t know what’s hes saying either. You never felt so connected and locked with anyone, you could feel his hands on your hair braiding them, you put your head up to look at him and you see his red eyes looking almost closed, you didnt have to look in the mirror guessing that you probably look the same, now your just admiring him and noticing the little moles he has and dimples when hes smiling. In the very awkward moment that Sarah catches you two just shouting fo everyone upstairs to comedown the stairs to watch the fireworks.

„How much do you want to stand up and go downstairs” oscar asks quietly „i have like zero strength left in my body so you would literally have to drag me there” „oh okay so..wanna stay here?” he asks smiling at you „yeah that would be nice” you said giving the smile back.

As you remember that you have something called a phone in your pocket that peter probably has been trying to get an answer for the last couple hours! he thinks your at your moms, you turned off your location so theres no way he’ll find you, you think „whatever all check later”

Oscar and you stood up to sit netxt to eachother while listening to people countdown seconds till new year, you take one more look at oscar and now he had probably noticed you admiring him for so long but he doesn’t do or wants to do anything about it

„happy new year” oscar says to you as he turns his head to you immediately catching eye contact

„happy new year oscar” you say back to him visibly flushed, you close your eyes as you feel his hand on your cheek pulling your lips into his, your tongue immediately started a battle with his fighting for dominance, you have really put all of your left strength into the battle but still lost to Oscar. At this point you two were out of breath and both broke contact, just for him to catch his breath and go back for even more. He picked you up from the bed, you wrap your legs around his hips while he carries you to the bathroom and puts you on the sink that you were getting ready in a few hours ago. Oscar stared to zip off your dress and you were left in your matching lacy underwear immediately teasing you, „you are so gorgeous baby” oscar whispered to your ear sending shivers down your spine while you responded with a moan. „We cant oscar…im sorry” you said quietly but loud enough for him to hear, „huh? why not” he reacted quickly, „peter would kill me if he found out, like literally” „is he your boyfriend or what?” „no, not really, were not together, but he says he doesn’t want to break up and now wont move out, hes like fucking insane” „what the fuck is wrong with the guy, i could never huty you” said oscar gently fixing your hair.

You and Oscar exchanged numbers and you told sarah everything, when you finally checked your phone you saw over 50 missed calles from peter trying to reach you without success, thank god you never gave him your mothers number even though he deemed that many times. you responded to him after few hours saying that you left your phone in the car and thought you lost it, he somehow believed it.

[equallyshaw]

that one hurt | trevor zegras

zegras x oc hughes.

warnings: angsty, swearing, self doubt, and self belittling in a way. but, sweet ending (:

word count: 2.1k (longer than i anticipated lol)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

molly hughes, older twin sister to jack, glared at trevor as soon as he walked in and slammed the front door. trevor did not acknowledge her after the loss that evening between them and dallas stars. she crossed her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as he walked right past her and to their bedroom. she sighed, cleaning up the rest of the kitchen after baking some cookies and heard trevor walk back in. he was going on and on about a harmless habit she did, "how many times do i have to fucking tell you about this shit? huh?! jesus fucking christ." he screamed at the girl. she froze in her spot, as trevor grabbed his keys from the counter and slammed the front door again. her hands quickly covered her mouth, as she let out a sob. she'd never been yelled at like that before, in her entire life. she'd made sure she was always in peoples good graces and always put the needs of others before her own needs and wants. she felt betrayed and felt as if her whole being had been stripped.

she quickly made her way over to the bedroom and grabbed a bag, throwing clothes and a bag of toiletries in there. she had one place she wanted to be and one place only.

-

molly pulled up to the townhouse alex had gotten in santa monica, and she saw alex sitting on the front step waiting for her. he stood up as she turned off the car, meeting her to grab her bag and give her a hug. he rubbed her back softly, as she cried into his shoulder. alex looked to molly as a sister and was beyond pissed at trevor, and was ready to tear him a new one if one of her brothers hadn't already gotten to him yet. alex took the bag from the back seat and let her walk inside first. "im-im sorry for just barging in like this, al. i didn't know where else to go." she said sighing as she made her way to the kitchen. "don't mention it molls, you're family. im always gonna be here for you." he said smiling and pulling her in for another hug. he kissed the top of her head, as she calmed down a bit more. "did you tell your brothers?" he asked softly and he felt her shake her head. "nah...you know one of them would be flying out here even if they have practice or a game tomorrow.." she said giggling just a bit. alex knew that to be true. "well good thing i dont have work tomorrow so lets make some pizza and watch the office?" he grinned, pulling back and heading to the freezer. "frozen pizza session? dont have to ask me twice." she hummed preheating the over and taking out two pans. the two worked in unision, opening the pizzas and placing them on the cooking sheets to go in. "do you have any seltzers?" she quesitoned opening the fridge and saw her favorite brand, "oh would you lookey here." she grinned taking it out and opening it. "its like you knew i was coming." she hummed chugging just a bit. "well if i didnt have it, we all know youd chop my head off." and she saluted him with a knowing smile.

the two spent the night watching the office and finished off both pizzas and molly with a few seltzers. the two passed out on the couch for what seemed like hours before molly awoke to her phone ringing with her brothers contact popping up. "hello?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and seeing the sun begin to rise. "oh thank god you're ok!" jack said rubbing his tired eyes and molly heard luke sigh in the background. she looked over at alex who was sound asleep and she headed over towards the first floor powder room. she turned on the light, chuckling to herself as she saw just a tiny bit of tomato sauce on her chin. "wanna tell me why you turned off your 360 location missy?" jack demanded and molly rolled her eyes. "you have us worried sick - not to mention mom and dad calling us at 2 am asking if we had heard anything and then you've got trevor als-" she cut him off, "oh he was worried as to where i was? im sure he could give two shits jack." she said pinching the bridge of her nose and sitting down on the covered toilet. "whats that supposed to mean?" he asked taken back a bit, "maybe you should call your so called bestie back and asked what he said to me last night and see if you can put the pieces together as to why i turned my location off and left the house." she spat, and heard jack whispering to luke to call him. "he said something that really hurt me jacky and i-i had to leave. im with alex, im ok. i proimse, im just very upset with trev." she said softly, her lip quivering. "oh lovey, im sorry. what did he say? just so i know what to scream at him." he added the last part, causing her to giggle just a bit. "um-- its stupid." she hummed, trying to downplay the situation. "lovey it cant be that stupid if it made you turn off your location so nobody could find you and it cant be that stupid if it made you go stay with alex. just tell us molls." luke said butting in and molly sighed.

"i just have a weird habit and i knew trevor was in a bad mood and i did it anyways and so its my fault that he blew up at me. its my fault he screamed at me." she said feeling a few tears fall out. "he yelled at you?" jack said in disbelief. trevor didn't have a bad bone in his body, when it came to molly. he looked at her as if she hung the stars and the moon, and never had any inkling to hurt her. "that son of a bitch." jack breathed as he took lukes phone from him and marched into his bedroom. "there is no reason why he should have yelled at you loves. none. i don't care if he was angry or upset at the game, he shouldn't have screamed at you. don't make yourself feel as if it was your fault. we all have our habits, and knowing you its a dumb one and one that did not warrant his outburst." luke said trying to comfort his sister. molly nodded, "thanks lukey. its just, nobodys ever yelled at me before like that." she whispered and luke's heart broke. he knew how sensitive she was and how hard she worked to make sure nobody ever got upset with her. "damn he's really going in on trev right now." luke said hearing the shouting coming from jack's room. "oh lovely, well im gonna go back to sleep. its 5 am luke, yall are nuts for calling me." she giggled and luke chuckled. "goodnight lovey, sleep tight." and she thanked him.

-

it was around 11 am when alex and molly heard a knock on the front door, and mollys eyebrows crinkled. she sipped her coffee, before digging back into her sandwich while alex went to go see who it was. "seriously?" she heard alex's lack luster enthusiasm, "i know shes here. i want to see her." she heard trevors familiar and ever recognizable voice. "listen man, i dont really feel like yelling at you right now so please just leave." alex said and trevor wouldn't budge. "the three of them have already screamed at me and picked me apart for the better part of the morning. please, i dont need anyone else to add to that." trevor said with a hint of exhaustion in his voice. molly sighed, walking towards the front door and stood next to alex, "its fine al." and alex nodded and eyed trevor before he walked back into the kitchen. "outside. now." she said pulling the door shut behind her. "what the fuck do you want trevor?" she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. she saw his under eyes darker and exhaustion in his eyes, and the look of pure regret and guilt written across his features. "im so sorry molls, i really am. there is no excuse for what i said or did and especially me leaving. i shouldn't have left and i shouldn't have said what i said. you know that i didn't mean it lovey, please. tell me what i can do to get your forgiveness?" he asked pulling her in close by the hips. "first off, you can take your hands off of me." she said pulling them off of her, "and secondly, you can leave. im not ready to speak to you yet. you hurt me trev, that one hurt. especially since you know its the most harmless habit of mine." she said setting her boundary.

trevor knew it would be hard to get her forgiveness, but he was also happy that she was setting boundaries because he knew that her being her, it was hard to do. even though it hurt him, he understood why she was. "nobody has ever yelled at me like that before. and i will not allow it to become a norm in it either." she said taking a step back. "so please, just go. ill talk to you when im ready." she said and trevor nodded softly, a lump forming in his throat. "alright lovey." he said taking a step in front of her, and placing a soft kiss on her temple. "ill be at home waiting." he said looking into her green eyes, and she nodded watching him leave.

-

it was two days later and alex was off for a small road trip, so as molly hugged alex goodbye she decided she did not want to be alone and lonely in the house. she cursed herself at 'caving' quicker than she liked but trevor was also her person, she missed him. over the past 48 hours she thought about the situation, thought about what she wanted to say to him and she ran it over with alex who supported her wholeheartedly. she drove down from santa monica to newport, and savored the hour and a half driving down the coast with some alred's coffee. she pulled up around 2:30 in the afternoon and saw trevor outside with jamie, pulling their surfboards off of trevors car. good, molly thought. hopefully a surfing session did some good and helped him refocus. jamie smiled widely as trevor walked passed him, once he saw molly's car pull in front of the townhouse. trevor turned around to shut his car door and saw molly's car parked, and quickly made his way over towards it. "molls?" he called out and molly rounded the back of the car, coming face to face with the hockey player. shes smiled sweetly and then waved towards jamie, who just like trevor still had their wetsuits on. "ill be inside, im gonna go get settled." she said softly to trevor as she walked passed. "call me later if you wanna get dinner." jamie said to trevor and trevor nodded and jamie left. the hockey player quickly jogged inside, looking for molly.

she stood in the doorway of their bedroom, cream hydrangeas in a crystal vase sat tall on her bedside table. a new joan malone candle stood in front of it, and saw a small card with them as well. she smiled softly, walking over towards it setting her bag on the bed. she opened it, and sat down on the bed. the letter contained everything that trevor could never get out on his own, the letter explained everything that he wanted to say but knew he'd be too flustered to say it correctly and in the way he envisioned. trevor paused at the door and saw that she was reading the letter he had written once he'd gotten back from santa monica. molly's lip quivered, and she looked up towards trevor. he quickly found himself kneeling in front of her, grabbing hands that reached out for him. "youre not losing me trev, i promise you that. i love you way too much trev, youre pretty much stuck with me for life." she hummed, giggling a bit. he smiled widely pulling her in for a kiss. his hands softly grasped her cheeks, pulling her closer. after a few seconds, they pulled apart before going in for more.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hope you all enjoyed! if you did, please like and reblog -- i appreciate it (:

random tags: @zegrasworld @hugheshugs @itsnotgray @slafgoalskybaby @zegrasbabyyy

[urlivex]

under the desk support

Leon S. Kennedy x Gamer!Reader

summary : leon gives you some under the desk support ;)

warnings : afab reader , no use of y/n , smut , petnames

You let out a soft groan and rolled your eyes, "Really guys? another defeat?" You and your friends have been on a 4 game loss streak now and you were getting sick of it.

"Well we can't end on a loss guys!" One of your friends shouts into the mic. The rest of your gaming friends agree and decide you would win that game.

"Well...i guess if you insist" you let out a deep sigh and take a sip of your energy drink as your friends que for another ranked game.

Thats when Leon walks into the room,hair wet from his shower only wearing his baggy sweatpants. After an exhausting day at work all he wanted in that moment was you. Leon's eyes land on you , still playing. His brows furrow in slight annoyance but then.. he gets an idea.

Suddently you feel Leon's hand on your arm. "Honey when are you getting off? its late." You look up at him with tired eyes, "Mmm last game okay hun?" you smile softly at him and pat his hand returning your attention to the game

Leon didnt like that. He wanted your attention on him. He is usually supportive of your hobby , he would often watch you play even if he didn't understand the game just to spend time with you , he'd remind you to drink water and eat some food while you played.

but today was a bit...different. he couldnt just wait. he needed you. he needed to taste you

Just as you're about to speak to your friends about what character you should pick you feel Leon's lips on your cheek and his hand travels from your arm down to your chest.

You let out a suprised gasp and turn your head to him, you could see the lust in his eyes. He quickly kisses you on your lips , gently yet lustfully.

"Hey are you gonna pick a character or nah?" your friend brings you back to reality. "Oh yeah yeah sorry!!" you mutter out quickly and pick whatever character you prefer. Leon's hands still on your chest you look back at him already blushing from his touch. "Leon..sweetheart, just give me 20 more minutes, i need to win this" You look back at your computer screen.

Just as you do you hear your friends giggle "What is he your mother?" your friend says and the rest burst out laughing. You roll your eyes and sigh "Ha Ha. very funny" you're a little annoyed now but decide to just focus on winning.

Leon hasn't moved an inch. "I missed you a lot today you know?" He whispers in your ear quietly. His hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "I just..can't wait darling" he purrs in your ear and places a soft kiss on it before traveling down onto your neck kissing it softly his hand squeezing your chest gently through your shirt.

You left out a deep sigh,your eyes still focused on the game. Upon noticing that you tried your best at ignoring him his soft kisses turned into lustful and tender ones.

You bit down on your lip trying to cover your moan , you felt your head get dizzy and filled with lust. "H-hey um guys ill mute myself for a second mkay?" you mutter out and mute your mic, just as you do he slips his hand under your shirt grabbing your breast and fondling it tenderly.

You let out a soft moan turning your gaze to him. He smirked even harder upon seeing how easily you fall apart under him."Keep playing hun~" he says before returning his attention back to your neck and chest.

You try your best at focusing on the game but Leon suddently pinches your nipple making you whine in shock and pleasure.

He knows what hes doing and hes enjoying it.

He continues nibbling down on your neck leaving marks. You felt the heat in between your legs get more and more unbearable with each second passing. You squeezed your thighs togheter to get some sort of relief and took your headphones off completely.

Leon took a notice of that, his grin getting even wider.He looked up at you with his almost animalistic gaze like you were a little wounded animal that only he could help,"Oh you poor thing..so needy for me huh?" he spoke into the crook of your neck leaving another hickey on it.

You took a peek at your computer screen and noticed you died, your friend were probably furious but you didn't care all that mattered right now was him.

He put his second hand on your cheek cupping it and placed a final kiss on your lips this time it was more lustful. His teeth biting on your lower lip slightly but it was enough for you to moan into his mouth , he took that chance and slipped in his tongue and explored your mouth hungrily

He then pulled away leaving you both breathless.

Leon took a look at your computer screen and noticed that you died, "Oh looks like you're struggling darling..let me help" he said and before you could say anything he lowered himself infront of you and sat down on his knees under your desk. He then uddently yanked off your shorts.

He pulled your thighs apart with his hands and grinned noticing your soaked underwear, "my darling...so wet for my already" he muttered out and began placing kisses on your thighs and rubbing circles on them.

"I think you need to focus on your game hun" He mumbled into your thigh before placing another kiss on your thigh slightly biting on the flesh making you let out another moan.

Trying to muffle your moans and focus on the game was pure torture but how he loved teasing you like that..

He moves his kisses up your thigh stopping just as he's about to reach your clothed pussy. He looks up at you and licks his lips before returing his gaze back to your panties.

Leon presses a kiss onto your clothed clit winning yet another moan out of you. He hums in amusment and slowly takes off your panties throwing them onto the ground.

"Fuck..." he mutters out and bites his lip.Before you can even react he starts attacking your pussy, licking over the folds up to your clit sucking on it. You throw your head back and whimper, you take your hand away from the keyboard and settled it now in his hair, stroking it gently.

He then placed a finger inside you which caused you to let out a gasp,he pumped it in and out , still sucking on your clit for dear life

Your moans filled the room , Leon then inserted a second finger inside pumping even faster. Your pussy leaking all over his fingers and making lewd sounds.

Leon ate you out like it was his last meal , his fingers hitting that sweet spot inside you, you felt yourself get closer every second.

"C'mon cum on my fingers gorgeous" Leon's words sending you over the edge, Your hips buckling and legs shaking you came so hard you saw stars.

Leon placed a kiss on your clit and licked his fingers clean. He then got up and kissed you passionately so you could taste yourself on his lips.

Just as you pulled back from the kiss, still breathing heavily you remembered you were playing with your friends.. just as you grab your headphones back and look at the screen it says 'defeat' and you can hear your friends groaning from loosing yet again

Just as you unmute your mic your friend yells at you "DUDE ARE YOU SERIOUS??? YOU WERE TROLLING THE WHOLE GAME"

You roll your eyes at her "Ah yeah...sorry haha my internet was really bad" you lied and looked up at Leon who seemed proud of himself.

"Yeah anyways gotta get off" you stated and turned the game off and left the voicechat returning your attention fully to Leon

"Guess my name is bad internet now" He jokes and you roll your eyes before standing up and placing a kiss on his cheek

You then look down at his pants noticing the hard bulge and smile."Guess youre the one who needs some support now" you laugh and place a kiss on his lips before guiding him towards the bed.

Looks like its gonna be a long night.

[chrisstvrns]

𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐀: 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ˚.⁺⊹ .ᐟ | 𝐂.𝐒.

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽… chris & his girlfriend investigate and potentially solve a murder from 80 years ago

warnings:  small mention of pedophilia (nothing too descriptive), mentions of murder & death. mostly fluff & angst, pet names, calling an old woman, taco bell :)) 

word count: 2.5k

the next morning, you woke up to the faint glow of your laptop screen and the sound of chris’s soft snoring. his arm was draped over your waist, and his hair stuck out in every direction from sleep. you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, as your eyes landed on the article you’d been reading last night.  

something about lola and tony’s story felt… wrong.  

you clicked back through the tabs you had opened, stopping on a black-and-white photo that caught your attention. it showed a young girl—lola, unmistakably—with a boy standing beside her. she couldn’t have been older than fourteen, her smile shy and radiant. the boy-tony, but you didnt know it yet-looked about eighteen, grinning in a way that seemed both confident and protective.  

the article attached to the photo mentioned them in passing—lola was already known locally for her dancing talent, having been a ballet dancer since she was three, and tony had just started working at a small bar in town, nothing compared to the club he would later be murdered in. no one could have guessed they’d one day be linked to a high-profile murder-that would remain unsolved for decades.

you leaned closer, rereading the date on the clipping. this was years before both of them got hired at the copacabana. they weren’t just nightclub coworkers, they didnt just hook up— they had history, a relationship that went back to when they were both still teenagers.  

“chris,” you whispered, nudging him gently.  

he groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “why are you like this?”  

“look at this,” you urged, turning the screen toward him.  

he cracked one eye open, blinking at the image. “fourteen and eighteen? that’s… kinda pedophile-ish, no?”  

“maybe now,” you admitted, “but back then, it wasn’t uncommon.”  

chris sat up slightly, rubbing his eyes. “so they were together before the whole copacabana club thing?”  

“exactly,” you said, sitting up straighter. “their story didn’t start in the ‘40s like everyone thinks—it started years earlier. and if they had that much history, what if tony’s murder wasn’t just a random act? what if it had something to do with their past?”  

chris stared at the screen, then back at you. “you think their relationship was tied to the murder?”  

“i think it’s possible,” you said, your voice gaining momentum. “and it makes sense why lola never talked about it. maybe she knew something—or someone—from their early years was, like, involved.”  

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “alright, baby. what’s the plan?”  

“we need to dig deeper,” you said firmly. “find out more about where they were before manhattan. look into their families, friends, anyone who might’ve known them when they were younger. and maybe…” you hesitated. “maybe we try to contact lola’s daughter, antonia.”  

“her daughter?”  

“she’s still alive,” you explained, scrolling to another page. “if she has anything—letters, diaries, even old photos—it could help us piece this together. if not antonia, then her kids. theyre all in their 40’s with kids of their own, around our age, probably.”  

chris raised an eyebrow. “you’re really serious about this.”  

“i can’t stop thinking about it,” you admitted. “there’s more to their story, and i need to know what happened.”  

he chuckled, shaking his head. “you’re insane. but fine. i’ll help.”  

“really?”  

“yeah,” he said, pulling you into his lap. “but if this leads to some wild goose chase with no answers, i’m holding it over your head forever.”  

you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “deal.”  

“alright, mama,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “let’s solve this thing.”  

with chris on board, your determination only grew. whatever secrets lola had kept buried for decades, you were going to uncover them. you weren’t just solving a mystery—you were unraveling a story that had been hidden for nearly a century. and you weren’t stopping until you found the truth.  

a couple hours later, you and chris found yourselves hunched over piles of papers, both of your laptops open, scrolling through old articles about the murder. you had a sheet of paper, where you had been writing down lolas descendants names, addresses, and phone numbers- whatever you could find. 

you were reviewing the list of people, when something caught your eye. 

“antonia jones, daughter.” you mutter “chris”

“yeah?” your boyfriend was hunched over a notebook, writing down phone numbers

“she named her daughter after him.” 

you stared at the paper in your hand, the realization settling in like a puzzle piece clicking into place.  

“antonia jones,” you repeated, the name barely a whisper now. “she named her daughter after tony.”  

chris looked up from his notebook, his brow furrowing in thought. “you think that means something?”  

“she must’ve loved him, chris,” you said softly, your eyes drifting back to the list of names. “nobody names their kid after someone unless they meant the world to them.”  

chris nodded, leaning back in his chair. “so if lola loved him that much, why didn’t she talk about him? why go silent for sixty years?”  

“that’s what we need to find out,” you said, determination edging your voice. “maybe naming her daughter after him was her way of keeping his memory alive—her own little tribute, since she probably vowed to never speak about him publicly.”  

chris tapped his pen against the table, his icy blue eyes fixed on the list. “do we know anything about antonia? like where she lives? maybe we could talk to her, see if she’s willing to share anything about her mom.”  

“i found an address,” you said, pointing to the page. “she’s still in the city, not far from where lola used to live. but it’s risky. what if she doesn’t want to talk? or worse, what if she doesn’t know anything?”  

chris shrugged. “we won’t know unless we try, right? besides, it’s not like we’re cops. we’re just curious. people might open up more when they don’t feel interrogated.”  

you bit your lip, weighing the pros and cons. “okay. let’s do it. but we should, like, figure out exactly what to ask her so we don’t scare her off.”  

chris smirked, leaning closer to you. “that’s my girl. always thinking ten steps ahead.”  

you rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “someone has to. you’re just here for moral support and to look pretty.” 

he laughed, pulling you into his lap. “damn right i am. but hey, i’m also pretty good at finding stuff people usually overlook, so i’ve got my uses.” 

the two of you spent the next hour drafting questions and piecing together a timeline of lola and tony’s lives. the deeper you dug, the more intricate the web became. connections started to form—old friends, former coworkers, even family members who might’ve been around when the murder happened.  

finally, as the clock struck noon, chris stretched and looked over at you. “alright, detective. what’s next?”  

“we reach out to antonia,” you said firmly. “even if she doesn’t know much, she might have something—an old letter, a diary, something lola left behind that could give us a clue.”  

chris nodded, his expression serious now. “alright. let’s do it. but first…”  

he stood, pulling you up with him. “food. we’re gonna need fuel if we’re taking on an 80-year-old mystery.”  

you laughed, letting him lead you to the kitchen. as you watched him rummage through the fridge, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement. this wasn’t just about solving a murder—it was about uncovering a story, a piece of history that had been forgotten. and with chris by your side, you felt unstoppable.  

as soon as you and chris finished eating, you’d make the call to antonia. and maybe, just maybe, you’d finally start unraveling the secrets lola had taken to her grave.  

you had decided to suck it up and just order taco bell, and you and chris were currently cuddled up on the couch while waiting for your dasher to arrive. 

the sound of a door creaking open drew your attention. you glanced toward the stairs, spotting nick rubbing his eyes as he descended, still half-asleep. matt trailed behind him, yawning loudly.  

“what the hell is all this?” nick asked, stopping short when he saw the cluttered table. his eyes roamed over the papers, notebooks, and your open laptops. “are we solving a murder or planning a heist?”  

chris smirked from his spot on the couch, his arm draped lazily over your shoulder. “good morning to you too, sunshine.”  

matt shuffled over, peering down at the papers. “no, seriously. what is all this? and why does it look like a true crime podcast exploded in here?”  

you leaned forward, pointing at one of the newspaper clippings you brought to the couch, that was now sitting on the coffee table. “it’s about lola jones, the copacabana showgirl. she was in, like, a full relationship with that guy tony starr, who got murdered at the club. the case was never solved, and we’re trying to piece together what happened.”  

nick raised an eyebrow, grabbing a piece of paper with scribbled notes. “you two stayed up all night for this?”  

“not all night,” chris said, sitting up straighter. “just… most of it. specifically her, she woke me up at nine.”  

matt glanced between you and chris, an incredulous look on his face. “and you’re doing this why?”  

“because it’s interesting,” you replied, shrugging. “and, you know, maybe we can actually figure something out. plus, there’s a $100,000 reward if we do.”  

nick whistled low, plopping down into a chair. “okay, now i’m listening. what’s the plan? are we knocking on doors? interrogating old people?”  

you softly laugh, shifting on the couch. “not exactly. we’re going to call lola’s daughter, antonia, first. see if she has any information or anything from her mom that could help us.”  

matt grabbed a piece of toast from the counter, leaning against the table as he chewed. “you realize how insane this is, right? like, there’s no way you’re solving an 80-year-old murder.”  

“probably not,” chris admitted, stretching his arms above his head. “but she wants to try, and i’m not gonna let her do it alone.”  

nick snorted, tossing the paper back onto the table. “whipped.”  

chris rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “call it what you want. i call it being supportive.”  

matt shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “alright, well, good luck with that. just don’t drag me into it when it all goes south.”  

“you’re already in it,” you teased, motioning to the pile of notes. “this is a group effort now.”  

nick leaned back in his chair, grinning. “i give it a week before we’re all dressed like 1940s detectives, staking out some random apartment.”  

chris chuckled, nudging your side. “don’t give her ideas.”  

“too late,” you muttered, jotting something down in your notebook that had been in your lap.  

matt groaned, finishing his toast. “you guys are ridiculous. but if you actually solve this thing, i want a cut of that reward money.”  

nick stood, heading toward the fridge. “yeah, same. and maybe a shoutout in the netflix documentary they’re gonna make about us.”  

you laughed, shaking your head as the two brothers continued bickering in the background. despite their skepticism, you could tell they were intrigued—and maybe even a little excited.  

with the whole group unofficially on board, you felt even more motivated to uncover the truth. whatever secrets lola and tony had taken to their graves, you were determined to bring them to light.  

a while later, you and the boys are finishing up your tacos while watching some random movie nick put on. 

“okay, do you wanna call now?” you mutter, wiping some sauce from your lip

“call who?” nick questions

“her daughter” chris replies, standing up to walk over to the kitchen, grabbing both of your laptops and notebooks

you nod, reaching for your phone. you open the keypad, taking the notebook as chris sits back down. you dial her number, hesitating before calling. chris wraps his arm around you, intently listening, along with nick and matt. after a few rings, the phone picks up. 

“hello?” a sweet old woman answers, questioning

“hi, uhm, is this antonia jones?” 

“this is she, may i ask whos calling?” 

“my, my name is y/n. me and my boyfriend, chris, we were reading an article on your mom, lola? we were wondering if you would be willing to talk about anything you know about the death of tony starr? if you know anything?” you voice is shaky, nervous, to what she may say

“sweetie, you call a 75 year old woman on a random tuesday morning, expecting her to give you details on the death of a man she never even met?” 

“i… uh, youre right, im very sorry. i shouldnt have called, have a good day..” 

youre about to hang up, when youre interrupted by the sound of her voice

“ill tell you anything and everything you want to know. nobody's asked me about it before, surprisingly. i cant say anything over the phone, though. do what you must, but we have to meet in person, sweetheart. i have to go now, theyre listening.” 

with that, she hangs up the phone, leaving you and the triplets in confusion and shock. 

“okay so shes crazy?” nick asks, taking a sip of his drink

“who knows?” you say, your mind racing. you can feel the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. chris is quiet, his eyes focused on you, clearly trying to process everything you just heard. matt leans forward, his brow furrowing as he looks at you.

"wait, so she knows something? she said they’re listening—what does that mean?" matt asks, his voice low.

"yeah, and why would she be willing to talk now, after all this time?" nick adds, rubbing his eyes, thoughtfully.

you shake your head, still trying to make sense of the call. “i don’t know. it’s weird, right? she just... dropped that out of nowhere.”

chris finally speaks up, his voice steady. “we can’t ignore it. she’s clearly involved in something. but we have to be careful. we don’t even know if she’s really telling the truth or if someone’s watching her.”

you nod, feeling a surge of uncertainty. “so what now? do we actually meet her? she sounded so urgent at the end.”

"yeah," nick chimes in. "it’s definitely sketchy, but if there’s even a chance she knows something, we should take it seriously. we can’t just ignore it."

matt agrees, "but we need to plan this out. we can’t go in blind."

chris pulls you closer, his arm around you once more. "we’ll figure it out, together. let’s be smart about this."

you glance down at the notebook, the pages filled with notes from your earlier investigation. the triplets are right—it’s risky, but now it feels like you’re in too deep to back out. you take a deep breath and look up, meeting their eyes.

“okay, let’s do it. we need to meet her, but we have to be careful.”

the triplets exchange glances, nodding in agreement.

it was official- you and the triplets were going to buy plane tickets to manhattan, and go meet antonia jones. she clearly knows something, but what? the question lingered in your mind- how important was tony to lola that she named her daughter after him?

youd find out soon enough. 

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: im finally doneeee thank u for reading im sorry it took so longgg

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

⋆˙⟡ tags: @lvrsturniolo @marrykisskilled @mattscoquette @emely9274 @wh0remikasas @mattsstarlet @pvssychicken @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @jvngle18 @forgottxen @mattslolita @lolastrniolo @55sturn

[tessasturns]

what are the chances (pt.3)

fem!reader x brothers bsf!matt

a/n: sorry for the delay y'all, ive been soooo busy but it's out nowww! there will be maybe another part lol:) it's kinda rushed ik:( anywho, enjoyyy!!

warnings: swearing, suggestive material, mentions of sex, angst, fb!matt, matt is lowk a jerk, fwb, making out, not proofread !!

(masterlist) (pt.1) (pt.2)

➽──────────────❥

you groan as you wake up, your body sore from the previous night. you feel dizzy, almost like you're about to pass out. you look up to see matt already awake and on his phone, scrolling on tiktok. "mornin'" he groans as he puts his phone down and hold you closer. "hey" you say, cuddling into his chest. "how'd ya sleep?" he asks. "good, you?" you respond. the conversation was dry and boring, but you didnt care. "good 'cause i was next to you" he says, smiling. you slightly chuckle at his remark and you both lay there.

"hey, um, matt?" you say, building up the courage to ask him something you've been wanting to. "mhm?" he hums in response. the question felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders. you so badly wanted to ask him 'what are we?' but you just couldn't. you couldn't risk ruining this perfect night by spoiling it with a question. "i- uh, what time is it?" you internally curse yourself for not saying what you wanted, but you couldn't. "twelve forty-seven" he responds. "we should probably get ready before we get caught"

you knew it was wrong. you knew liking your brothers best friend was wrong, but the thrill made you want more. the adrenaline rush of sneaking around had made it so much easier to lie to everyone about the two of you. you nod in response to matt as you both get up. you try to throw on scattered clothes and cover your body.

"hey, y/n?" matt asks, his voice laced with a shy tone. you turn your head to face him but he suddenly pulls you into a kiss. the two of you begun to make out, focused on eachother completely. you barely hear chris starting to struggle to unzip your tent on the other side.

"fuck matt, whats up with your stupid zipper?" chris curses as he continues to struggle with the zipper. you and matt are now off eachother from the sudden interruption. chris finally opens the tent and leans his head in. "uh, y'all wanna come kayaking?" the tension in the room is thick, chris knowing what the two of you did last night. "nah we're good" matt answers for you, but you bite your tongue. "alright" chris says, leaving.

you and matt sit in awkward silence for a couple minutes before getting up. everyone's already gone kayaking, so the two of you sit outside on your phones. you want to say something, anything, but your mouth won't move. you want to beg him to out a label on you guys, but you know he won't.

time passes by, and everyone else hasn't come back yet. you begin to wonder if matt was using you. he couldn't be, right? a renowned sweetheart through and through would never hurt his best friends little sister. you tried to tell yourself that, but it wasn't convincing. an hour had passed and the two of you are now shoulder to shoulder in the tent, a silence falling between you two for the entirety of the time. you knew this trip was about to be over, and you didn't want to have matt as just a summer fling.

you clear your throat and try to speak up, but all you can manage is a small "hey, matt?" he turns his head to you. you don't want to ruin this moment, it wasn't fair to him. "w-what are we?" you ask him. you were terrified of the outcome, but you knew you had to. growing up your mom always told you 'a boy who doesn't want to spend time on you isn't worth your time.' its just how you were raised.

"what do you mean?" he asks. "like, what are we? are we dating? whats going on with us?" you ask him, the words leaving your mouth quicker than you realise what those words are. "well, your my best friends sister, so i suppose we're friends" he says, and your face speaks for you. you look at him in disbelief.

"friends? holding hands at the campfire? cuddling eachother to sleep? making out in our tent? literally having sex? c'mon, friends my ass!" you practically yell. "ok, ok" he says, trying to deescalate the situation. "i guess we're... friends with benefits?" you sigh, knowing you're not going to get anywhere with this boy. "that's it?" you ask, tears threatening to show in your eyes as he shrugs.

you grab your stuff and storm out, knowing this wasn't worth your time. you don't walk long however, finding a tree stump to sit on. you chill there for a bit knowing you're going to have to be with matt for the next four days.

a little while passes by and celeste walks over to you. "hey, whats wrong?" she says, knowing you were crying just now from your runny nose and glossy eyes. "nothing, how was kayaking?" you ask, trying to change the subject. "ah, no. tell me whats wrong." she says, sitting next to you.

"honestly, im mad at myself. i ruined what me and matt have...or had" you respond. "oh my gosh what happened? you guys were so cute together" she states. "how do you know we had something? i never told you?" you ask, confusion laced on your voice. "everyone knew" she responds bluntly. "ah. well, matt never put a label on whatever we had for the last three days, so i asked him 'what are we' and he said friends." you say, trying not to cry on the spot. "friends? didn't y'all fuck last night?" she asks. "you heard that?" you groan as she nods. "ugh whatever, i know he doesn't want to put a label on it so im done." you say. "period." she says as you giggle.

"thanks for being there for me celeste" you say as she rubs your shoulder in comfort. "always. also, marylou is worried about you so do you wanna head back?" she says as you nod and we walk back together. my life would truly be nothing without this girl.

➽──────────────❥

a/n: there's not too many fb!matt fics so i wanted to incorporate that in here lol. also sorry this is kinda short:( this isn't how i think matt would be in a relationship btw, js wanted some angst in this lololl:)) sorry for the delay on this, i have sm hw to catch up on and my seasonal depression is not helping😭

blessings and riches, tessa

[pabloqavi]

illicit affairs

summary. you and gavi have been dating for five months now but no one knows about your secret relationship until the team catches you ! genre. fluff ! pairing. gavi x reader ! a/n. this is my first short story so please bear with me, i'm also spanish so i'm sorry if there's any mistakes !! ++ wanted to clarify that yes the song is called after the song from taylor swift but there will be no cheating involved

"pablo stop we need to get going soon" you told your boyfriend, trying to push his face away.

"but yn just one more kiss" he pouted while spreading kisses all over your face "need to get enough of them before i go a whole day without them" he said making you giggle before you give in and kiss him

pablo and you have been dating for five months now but no one knew about your relationship since you wanted to keep it private and not have people meddling on it. this obviously included your friends, who were the biggest gossipers known to earth and you wouldn't put it past them to let it slip at any time.

today you were gonna spend a day out with your friends at the beach, taking advantage of the day off the boys had.

"i love you but if we don't start getting ready we are gonna be late again" you told pablo while caressing his face, giving him one last kiss before getting up.

"fine" he kissed your cheek while rushing upstairs to change into his swimsuit. both of you were at your house, which lately had become pablo's as well, to the point he had clothes all over your closet.

one you both got ready you grabbed your car keys and left for the beach. it wasn't a rare occurrence to see you driving pablo everywhere since despite being now 18 he didn't have his license yet.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"gavi, yn we are over here" you hear as soon as you get out of the car. seeing pedri waving you over to the little corner of the beach where all your friends are.

once you dropped your stuff and force pablo to let you apply sunscreen on him so he doesn't get sunburned, you run to the water where all your friends are already playing.

"guys we are getting out" sira tells the boys as you head to the towels. seeing the boys follow you out of the water and take out a ball and start doing passes.

after a few hours playing in the sun, the boys start getting hungry and want to head to a restaurant to eat something.

pedri is the first to head towards where you and the girls are talking trying to find a phone to see what time it was. grabbing the first one he sees he turns it on to see the time.

"oh my god" you suddenly hear him yell while covering his mouth with one hand "when did this happen? since when? what? how?" he starts rambling talking to himself.

"what happened?" ansu asks him with all the boys now coming over.

"gavi and yn are dating" he yells turning the phone so all the guys could see pablo's lockscreen, which was a photo of the both of you kissing. suddenly you feel your cheeks heating up and let out a quiet giggle while all the boys look accusatorially to pablo.

"why didn't we know? how long have you even been dating?" ferran asks

"a little over 5 months" pablo replies sheepishly "and we didn't tell you because we wanted to be private and no offense but you aren't the best secret keepers" you tell them making them all scoff in fake annoyance.

yourusername

favourite place with my favourite person 🤍

pablogavi love you more than anything 🤍

yourusername love you more

pedri I CANT BELIEVE WE DIDNT SEE THIS COMING

yourusername can't lie it's embarrassing

ansufati thinking back they made it too obvious 😭

ilovegavi6 WHAT IS HAPPENING ?#!#!

30gavi6 another parasocial relationship ended😭😭

[djpachipikachu]

do graves!leosagi ever get tired of their friends/family labelling them?? like maybe leo’s bros make fun of him for having a “boyfriend” and he gets like rightfully irritated by that ?

its Kinda amusing bc eventually leo’s family at least straight up thinks theyre just really good pals and its like wow ! friendship ! in a more oblivious sense like they just kinda shrug and go oh yeah usagi’s here again whatever

originally mikey was insanely insanely suspicious of usagi and what his relationship was with leo (“hes literally just a friend” “YOU MEAN A BOY-FRIEND. AND U NEVER TOLD US.” “what am i supposed 2 say do i update u guys every time i make a friend” “If I See This Fuckinf Rabbit Sleeping In Your Bed Again I’m Telling Dad” “WE WERE HAVING A SLEEPOVER”) (mikey was mainly shocked bc leo invited a friend to sleepover who they didnt know And leo didnt tell anyone there was an extra mouth to feed for brekkie) but once everything was smoothed over usagi just became another regular, similar to how april is

leo himself tells raph that its a little more than that but only raph rly knows it and hes always had a hunch about them so it didnt change much in how the brotjers saw the two

usagi’s family on the other hand is definitely more “Boyfriend? boyfriend? boyfriend? crush? romance?” kitsune teases usagi about how dramatically romantic it must be to fall for a guy he hated in the beginning and usagi is like . so filled with Eugh. This Is Not Romantic. ick feeling that it causes him to be more in denial at how close he’s gotten with leo (in the beginning at least , later on kitsune still teases him but he’s more at ease with how him and leo are, so he always jusy goes “ew no im not kissing him dates r gross” but over time she toned it down to more “ooh is someone missing a certain kappa?” kinda teasing rather than “whens the wedding/has your first kiss happened yet lmao/etc” kinda teasing)

hana calls leo his boyfriend like all the time and like . usagi doesnt rly correct her bc she’s 8 and he doesnt know how to explain that they “arent Really boyfriends sure they do things that couples would do sometimes but its platonic and well you dont rly know what platonic means uh”

so she gets a pass on all her “IS THAT YOUR BOYFRIEND” comments since usagi is just like “yeagh its leo u wanna say hi”

auntie notices how leo visits a lot and she kinda just is like “okay ur like my kid now. lol.” she thinks they are just best friends bc usagi said they are and who is she to think otherwise, she kinda just absorbs leo (and later on the hamatos) as her own family and doesnt question their relatiomship much

chizu and gen tend to stay out of usagi’s personal business like that But gen did think that leo was a girl for a good while before he was ever introduced to him . and he was like “usagi if you wanna pick up the ladies u need like. do better. than this” “what. What” “like take a shower man” trying to give him flirting/relationship advice without actually knowing leo at all and also assuming usagi is straight

all in all its never really serious if people call them boyfriends or just best friends bc they dont really care to correct anyone it only matters if its like “so did you hit the [insert romantic relationship milestone] phase yet haha” bc that gets tiring to hear constantly

mainly all their family is just like “oh okay” at their relationship since i dont Really want to make the hardships of being aroace or being queer a big point since we already struggle enough with that irl ! a few details here and there about how their unlabelled status confuses some people but generally just a “we’ve seen weirder shit who cares” kinda energy to it

i love rambling . Thank you for the wuestion ily /p

[mattphobiia]

SMOKE SESSION.

we sat outside hiding behind the back of matt's car that was parked in the garage as we took turns passing over the joint while we updated each other on our lives. we were originally hanging out with matt and chris when they started bickering on about some crap we didn't understand and was stressing us both out.

"so, what's going on with you?" i ask, still holding the joint before taking a long drag, inhaling sharply as i watch the left over smoke escape my mouth.

"ill be honest, not much has been happening . just regular stuff with the channel, but everything is slow right now." he sighs, taking the joint off me before rolling his eyes, taking a deep puff.

"fair enough, but i mean isn't it so cool that we are just down here smoking weed? imagine if one of your brothers catches us! that would be funny."

"its not like its illegal, besides we are both twenty so we can do what we want."

"well, technically it is illegal." i add in before snatching it away from him as he gives me a death stare in response.

"did i ask you to be smart? you know what i meant, its not the end of the world." he huffs, leaning his head against the car. "you have to admit though, smoking weed here feels so surreal."

"couldn't agree more." i reply, laughing as i pass nick the joint again which was almost running out, but he declines.

"just have the rest, im already high enough." he laughs, and i nod before bringing it back to my lips. "honestly, life feels great when im high with you. you're an asshole sometimes, but so am i and thats what makes us best friends."

"well that was rude, but yes, i agree. we need to do this more often, but maybe with the others though because they might get mad if they discovered we smoked without them."

"i dont think matt will get that mad since he only smokes to calm his nerves, but chris would act like a big baby and have one of his little tantrums." nick laughs.

"nothings new with him then, what a surprise." i roll my eyes, both of us laughing to ourselves like maniacs. i always had the best times with nick, sober or intoxicated. he always made life seem less stressful and scary, like all my worries just disappeared for a while when i was around him. sometimes i questioned if he was secretly magic because my negativity goes away so fast i didnt know whether to believe if he was just cursing me or something, or a blessing. i think im just crazy.

MASTERLIST

a/n: something a lil different😛 also im just adding that this is not romantic whatsoever and only platonic (unless you identify as male and want to interpret it that way then go ahead but other than that no), i was also getting high myself when i suddenly got this idea so i wrote down a summary of what i was thinking and i dont actually write about nick much so i wanted to base it off him buttttt.... HOORAY! thank u all sm for all the support again i just appreciate u all so much like fr can i kiss u (jokes) i might write another lil series involving my boy matthew but nothing has came to mind yet so keep a look out;3

[kitty-baby36]

"Four Turtles & A Baby"

(TMNT BAYVERSE)

🐢 Chapter Eight 🐢

Beneath the streets of New York City, Thora continued to grow up fast and strong. It was hard to believe that so much time had already passed. In the blink of an eye, she'd gone from a two year old playing Legos with Michaelangelo, to a four year old mimicking Leonardo’s training moves with childish determination, to a six year old drawing up crazy new inventions with Donatello.

She was beginning to understand the world better, but not quite. She understood that her family could only go out at night and that they fought criminals and kept the city protected in secret. She understood that there were rules to follow that were meant to keep them (and her) safe.

But sometimes it was really hard to follow the rules. Like tonight...... Thora stood at the edge of the sewer grate, peeking out from the dark. The street was alive with music and laughter. People darted back and forth, wearing brightly colored costumes. It was Halloween, her and Michaelangelo's favorite holiday. She watched the crowd with wide, bright eyes. Oh, how she wanted to join in the fun!

Donatello had explained to her that they couldn't go out into the open with the other humans. He had explained how, if she was found, people would come and take her away.

"But... but why, Dee?" she had pressed, her voice trembling with that blend of innocence and desperation that cut straight to the turtle's heart.

Donatello had watched her; saw the way her brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to understand. Of course she didnt want to be taken from her family! He disliked these moments—the moments when the truth of their existence blurred the joy of her childhood. He wished for a way to shield her from this discomfort, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her.

“They just… don’t understand us,” he had replied quietly, choosing each word with care. “We look different, and that makes some people scared.”

Thora’s little hands fisted at her sides. “But we protect them, Dee!” She bounced a little on her toes, and her frustration was kind of adorable. “When they’re in trouble, we fight for them. Why would they be scared?”

"Thora."

The six year old jumped back from the grate. She put her arms behind her back and stared up at Raphael. She should have known he would be the one to catch her out of bed tonight.

"What are you doing out here? It's almost midnight."

"I just wanted to see the parade, Raffa."

"I know you want to, sweetheart. But you can't risk letting people see you."

"Why not? Why don't they like us?"

Raphael HATED these conversations. He always felt as if he were being torn in two. Thora never hesitated to consider herself just like them. And yet it was so blatantly obvious that she wasn't. He wished there was a way to explain the fear - the prejudice that transformed people into monsters when faced with the unknown.

“We do good things. We help those in danger and fight in the dark to keep them safe. But sometimes they can’t see past what they think they know.”

Thora tilted her head, confusion etched across her delicate features. “But they should," she said definitively. "You do so much, and it's not fair that you can't show anyone."

Such wisdom from one still so small. Raphael reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the way he always did when he wanted to comfort her. “You’re right. It’s unfair. But it will be okay; we will keep fighting in ways they may not see. And one day, it will be worth it." His heart ached for her; her dreams of acceptance danced just out of reach like sunlight on the water. He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head.

Thora nuzzled into him, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace despite the dark cloud of disappointment. “Promise, Raffa?”

“I promise,” he vowed, holding her a little tighter. As long as he drew breath, he would do everything he could do to dismantle her fear piece by piece. Because she deserved it, and so did he.

He started to carry her back to bed, but not before catching sight of his youngest brother sneaking down the tunnel. Michaelangelo froze when he saw his older brother standing there.

"Oh, uh...heyyy, bro! I was just, um...."

"Halloween parade?"

"Whaaaaa?" Mikey responded, feigning ignorance. "Is that tonight?"

"Mike-mike!" came Thora's voice from off to the side. "Guess what? They have a dragon that makes real fire!"

Whatever pretend alibi Mikey was about to come up with was instantly forgotten. He rushed to the grate, eyes wide. "No way! Really?! That's awesome!"

"Yeah! And they had a zombie and a robot and...."

Raphael rolled his eyes. He could be a douchebag and make them both go to bed. But just this once, he decided to let it go and let them have their moment of joy.

"Mikey... no later than two-thirty, got it?"

"Got it! Thanks, Raph!"

💠

[blazingstarship]

💍Engagement Night💖

I have been waiting to post this artwork for a very long time cause I wanted it to be perfect and love the story behind our proposal.

We got to the marriage subject cause one of the guys made a joke about it. When it was just the two of us, I honestly told Yus it wasnt really something I dreamed off to do. I kinda made it clear marriage wasnt for me but didnt want to tell him my reasons. Yusei figured eventually by clicking one and one when I dont bring up my parents much. I told him the truth about why I dont like weddings. My parents had an unhappy marriage and even worst divorce. Heck I dont even know why they agreed to get married in the first place but it made me dislike the whole wedding concept.

Yusei said he never could imagine even a happy stable relationship without worrying if the other wouldnt leave him first (dead, betrayed, leaving the city forever). And marriage, the same page, didnt saw himself as marriage material too. People of Sattelite werent even allowed to marry so who wanted scum like him to love a life time.

Our relationship grow and the years passed by. It became stronger and we never felt so comfortable and save than to be with each other. After two years there was a moment in our lifes that changed us both and Yusei came suddenly with an own made ring with blue stone stickers on it and presented as a promise ring, we called a partnership. And I made one too from scraps and crafts so he knew I feel the same way about it. So we started to wear promise rings and after four years, we got our own house together.

I try not to drop spoilers but lets say Yusei felt alone and yet he got reminded someone always came home to him at the end of the day. Living together did him so well and the idea of having an own house with a backyard and garage and just a new chapter in his life thats about to start. He never could dream there was someone willing to spend the rest of their life with him and he cherish every day this someone goes to sleep and wakes byside him.

He wanted to place the bolt ring for the real thing and it was quite the time since he knew while I love the ring, it wasnt a real ring and deserved a real one. The real deal.

I was really worried about the house since I am not from Neo Domino City and what if we didnt work out at the end and I had to go back to my own country.

Yusei assured me its never gonna happen and we are not like my folks. As long as we talk to each other and give the space we need from time to time, everything will be alright.

After we got the keys, Yusei said out of the blue What if you will be named Fudo too. It shocked me how sure he said that, his face expression didnt change. He was really serious about it, like he was preparing me mentally and pulsed if he should go through with his plan.

I was really quiet about it as after a while, I only smiled at him and told him I loved him and that will never change. Then I gave a very long kiss on his cheek.

He didnt need to know more then this was a hint that I was ready. It was like he already asked the question but without the actual words. And my sensitive emotional ass (typical cancer lol) got me in tears as I assured him it was just a very sweet thing what he did.

The first night we would spend at our home was the same night he proposed. Yusei wanted to come to our home as family, as future husband and wife.

He took me for dinner and boy we didnt eat much. I may even was tired from work to notice he was nervous and couldnt think why he wanted to go out after we could have dinner at our own place for the first time.

He proposed at the Neo Domino City Point View close to his former place. It has the best view to see the whole sky and all the stars in it. Also it was the same place we catched a shooting star together and even started to feel a spark between us.

There were fairy lights around the rails and just watched the starry sky. Bringing up memories and getting deeper how much we have been through together. The deeper we got, the closer we holded each other. Suddenly there was a long silence and how I never could think I would be here and spending the rest of my life living here with him.

He whispered to me that I was his home, his future and couldnt imagine he would spend the rest of his life with someone else than me. He let me go but holded my hand as he went on one knee. After some sweet lines, he asked me. The way he asked was more like a promise than a proposal. Without knowing the real intentions, I said yes. As he wanted to put the ring on the finger, he realized he forgot to put out the box out of his jacket.

We laughed at this moment. He called out I even said yes without a ring. For me to reply confused “Saying yes without a ring?”

As he then showed the box and showed the ring inside. Saying he is asking the real deal, it is a real proposal. Causing me to been overwhelmed and crying.

He asked me again, but this time he did it in Dutch. It was so fluent, it got me so off guard. For me to answer Yes! In dutch, Japanese and English. A thousand times.

[sorikkung]

just had a horrible day time for a pick me up 🤩 or to fall deeper down the hole, you never know with natgig, but yk what, that can be cathartic <3

the way i immediately knew it was gonna be yeonjun... it was either gonna be his past self or yeonjun but either way his past is coming back to haunt him oh boy im ready for this to HURT

flashbacks to that one chapter w dream mingi bc That Is Not Yeonjun!! oh my fucking god. every time i think youve come up with a way to emotionally torture wooyoung in the most psychologically damaging way possible for him specifically you outdo yourself and make it worse. what the fuck. my BABY. FREE MY BOY HE DID NOTHING WRONG!!!!

"He deserves this." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.” you really said "lets aim for every single trauma wound we can fit in one character then stab 85 different needles into each one <3" w him didntcha

oh no. oh no. that isn't seonghwa either isnt it. theres no way there'd be such a sudden jump to him being saved already. oh no. oh nonononono. oh noonoonononononooooononon. ohno

yeah look if wooyo been thinking abt seonghwa choking him out while he kisses him then like me the fuck too, but also, ouch. SDJKFSDKFHS

“That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.” OH OUCH WHAT THE FUCK DUDE THAT SHIT HURTED 😭😭😭😭😭

its gonna be san then mc isnt it. ohhh man. oh man. oop. its san. fuckfuckfuck

OH. OH. OHHH MY GOD. BC THEY DIDNT NEED TO COME UP WITH THE MOST EMOTIONALLY DAMAGING THING SAN COULD SAY TO HIM - HE ALREADY SAID IT ALL. SO THE NEXT WORST THING IS JUST. LOSING HIM COMPLETELY. HIM BEING DEAD. OHHHH THAT WAS SO EVIL CORYNN I AM GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS AND SHAKING YOU LIKE A FUCKING FISHHHH

im still sussy of winter bc shes the only one we've seen Actually hold this kind of resentment towards him like the dream/nightmare state or whatever dont even needa twist Her behaviour LMFAOoo

there she is. man, with the very knife he took from her, how symbolic... also i never thought the words "I do too." could be SO FUCKING DEVASTATING and Y E T. AND YET!!!

yk i just realised we still dont know who the dark army are or why they want mc yet do we??? well presumably to finish what they started but like. i was gonna say or their beef w libaiya but. we know enough to guess why anyone could have beef w libaiya HSDKFJGKSJD but like man why are they willing to go to such lengths who the fuck are these people this whole time!! im so curious!! what are they fighting for!!

San wants his sword back. San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

UGH I LOVE A GOOD COMPARISON LIKE THAT!!!!

hwa asking him to talk abt how they met just to pass the time n feel a bit better oh my god what is it about that thats so cute and precious ahh 🥺🥺🥺 also very clever way in getting the readers to the exposition on this without adding another entire triggering event for it hehe

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly. “Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

ugh that pacing hit like a TRUCK 😩😩😩😩😩

THATS KIND OF PATHETIC DONT YOU THINK SHKJAJKDKJFG OH MY GODDD THOSE ARE SUCH GOOD FIRST WORDS. I LOVE AN ICONIC INTRO I LOVE THAT SM

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him. 

nothing i love more in fiction than awful, gut-wrenching codependence like yaaaas kings make each other WORSE do it in the name of LOVE thats just as destructive as it is restorative WOOOO

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

one of my favourite relationship dynamics honestly

"If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage." YEAH THATS WOOYOCORE ALRIGHT SHJKDFGHKFAKGHSKDHGKSJDFGJ LOVE THAT

oh damn hwa aint even had his gay awakening yet huh. you in for a real storm with this one brother! KDJFJKSHKJSKDFHK- [SPITS OUT DRINK] HE COULD WHAT. OH MY GOD. OH MY GODDDDDD ITS HAPPENINGGGG ITS FUCKING HAPPENINGGGGG!!!!!!! HOLY SHIIIIIT!!!!!

"Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly." THATS SO FUCKING RAW OH MY GODDDD san real observant for that one BUT ALSO MY HEART SPLIT IN HALF!!!!

"More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. " WHAT IF I PISSED MY PANTS SO HARD I DIED!!!! WHAT THEN, CORYNN!!!! WHAT FUCKING THEN!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH FUCK THERE IT FUCKING IIIIIIIIIIIS OH BOY HE DID ITTTT FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUKCFUCK

“And why do you think that is, Hwa?” "Oh." HKSFDGKLJSDJKFGJKSDFGKJ FUCKING, GOTTEM

okay that was so tender and gentle and soft and

IM FINE.

there Is something freeing about confessing to your crush, even if they dont reciprocate, i feel that. getting real relevant in this chilis HSJKDKFGJKDJK OH MY GOD MC NOOO.

oh fuck i completely forgot abt minho's elixir. i also forgot what it does. hol up do i needa go back... ok i went back. cool so we dont know what it does! but i assume its going to be what gets us and the crew outta here alive.

KEEP MINGIS NAME OUT OF YOUR WHORE MOUTH COMMANDER!!!!! also i wonder if that ravine will come into play later. just a random hunch. surely it was mentioned for a reason?

cool so the dark army are just working under orders. i mean expectedly enough but theres no patriotism involved huh just some hidden big bad paying em to do it. hmmm :/

whew i knew sanhwa would show up in the nick of time fuck yeah side by side fight scene i love this shit!! pretty fitting that seonghwa first ever takes a life in a moment as dire as this. hes being so strong rn 🥺🥺 they all are 🥺🥺🥺 can you tell im extra emotional today.

A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

this part is so cool and vivid youre back at it again w the sick action scenes 😩😩

a mere MONTH??? i thought it had been a couple months on the road at least damn this shit went by quickly hsjkdkjgskg

"You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. " ooh bitch CHILLING!!!

ok there is something so fucking cool about wooyoung being the commanders last resort. not some other dark magic shit to make Him more powerful, but to use wooyoung as a weapon because he knows wooyoung is the most powerful one here. so this basically means they were smart in capturing wooyoung first - or maybe just lucky - cause theoretically he could've taken down this entire battalion himself, just like it was the wardens army. hes an absolute fucking wildfire and thats kinda sexy of him tbh

omg is that the first theyve heard wooyoungs name thats so AAAAAAAAAAAA PULLING ALL MY HAIR OUT THIS IS SO PAIN BUT SO GOOD

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

BANGER! BANGER! ABSOLUTE FUCKING BANGER, ATE AND LEFT NO CRUMBS, PERFECT BUILD UP, WORDING, DELIVERY, STANDING OVATION, SOMEONE GIVE THIS BITCH A GODDAMN GRAMMY OR SOMETHING THE CROWD GOES WIIIIIIIIIIIILD

i knew the ravine would be relevant and wow that visual is so picturesque, even if i dont think he deserved the swiftness to his demise </3

"Fuck." WHAT A PERFECT CLOSING TO THE CHAPTER SHJDFGAJDKJGSKJFGKSKDGKJSDFGK wow. what a climax. i mean was that even a climax we still dont know who the employer is or what will happen when they reach kuroku but that was sure a climax if not The climax... sheesh im outta breath just reading that. or that might be from coughing up a lung but imma give you the credit bc fuck this cold and this chapter was fucking awesome. angst fluff action all in one you really giving the bitches Everything. its me im bitches. dunno if my reaction is shorter than usual this time ive been so out of it but i really really enjoyed that one you know i always enjoy the wooyoung centric chapters that shits like crack to me <33 knocked it out of the park once again, cant wait to see where it goes from here!

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 11

series pairing: (fem) princess!reader x seonghwa x san x wooyoung. eventual polyamory.

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Eleven: a broken conscience, tenderness, and a final confrontation.

series rating: 16+

series genre: action and adventure. romance. angst. fluff. suggestive. fantasy au.

series warnings: character death, blood and violence, weaponry, injury, suggestive content, mxm content, elements of misogyny, language, monsters. (will only be using chapter specific warnings for things not included on this list.)

summary: as a princess fleeing a royal assassination attempt, you have no choice but to put your trust in a band of three thieves in order to reach the kingdom of kuroku alive. however, amongst magic, deceit, and the bounty hunters that are hot on your trail, you realize that you might have stumbled upon a relationship far more complicated than what meets the eye.

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 16.2k

extra chapter warnings: themes of self-hatred, brief mention of suicide. heed the violence warning for this one.

chapter summary:

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

a/n: me apologizing for taking eons to write is getting a bit old, so imma stop LMAO. life is just busy but what’s new. anyway, to be frank i adore this chapter. it's a wild ride. i hope you all enjoy. mwah.

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung hears someone call out to him, but he isn’t sure from where. Their voice appears close, yet far off all at once. As if they are speaking from beside him, and at the same time miles away.

His senses feel muddled. Eye-sight a bit faded, it’s as if he’s looking through a window in the winter season. Fogged and clammy with precipitation, almost translucent. His hearing is muffled, his footsteps creating a dull-echo through him, as if they’re coming from within his mind rather than heard through his ears.

Wooyoung ignores this, instead choosing to follow the voice, although really, he’s walking aimlessly more than he is following. He can’t tell where the voice is coming from, and the darkness that surrounds him is disorientating. When he looks down, he can see his own eyes staring back at him, the ground polished and reflective. However, when he looks forward it all meshes into a thick blackness, like a mirror facing the night sky. 

“Wooyoung!”

He hears the voice again, and it sounds like it’s coming from behind him, but when he turns there is nobody there. Just more of the same darkness.

Wooyoung scowls. Something is wrong, although he can’t place what. An inkling of worry rests on his shoulders nagging at him to listen, but everytime he tries to grasp it, it slips between his fingers. Sliding like water over rock.

His frown deepens. Yes, something is very wrong. He should know what it is, and yet he doesn’t.

Wooyoung turns back around, walking back in the same direction from which he came, this time with more fervour, his cluelessness leaving him agitated. 

However, as he turns it is not only blackness ahead of him, but a boy.

He faces away from Wooyoung so that the elemental cannot see his face, although based on his narrow stature and height, he’s no older than his early teens. Wooyoung, struck by a sense of familiarity, heads towards him. 

Upon reaching him, Wooyoung reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder, turning him around to face him. However, just as the boy’s face is almost visible, he vanishes. Wooyoung blinks. Darkness sits before him, empty, his hand outstretched into the blackness.

“Wooyoung.”

He whirls around, finding himself face to face with the boy.

Wooyoung gasps.

The boy’s light eyes meet his, a rich grey colour that has always reminded him of a coming storm. His black hair has grown longer, shaggy as it curls around the boy’s ears. Although Wooyoung has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, the boy is still taller, even if only by an inch or so.

“Yeonjun,” he whispers, and then his arms are wrapped around him, pulling the boy close. Wooyoung presses one of his hands along Yeonjun's back, feeling his skin and the muscles along his shoulders, trying to make sure that he’s real as he remembers each of his skin’s crevices. Ensuring that he is not a trick of the mind, an illusion within the warped darkness. 

But he is real. Completely solid, his skin as warm and soft as so many years ago. Wooyoung places a hand onto the back of his head, cradling it as he pulls Yeonjun close. 

Yeonjun does not move to hug him back. He stands still, stiff. Arms planted at his sides.

“You’re dead,” Wooyoung whispers, because he doesn’t understand how this is possible. He tucks his chin over the boy’s shoulder, overwhelmed by the familiarity of it, even after all these years. There’s a rightness to it, like his shoulder was meant for Wooyoung’s chin to rest there.

Yeonjun doesn’t reply right away, and Wooyoung finally pulls away from him. Yeonjun’s deep grey eyes meet his, although there is a certain absence to them. Not of life, but compassion. His lips are pulled into a thin line, his jaw clenched tight. 

It’s not until now Wooyoung realizes that Yeonjun is not happy to see him. 

“You don’t have to remind me that I’m dead, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun says, and his voice is not how Wooyoung remembers it. Not in its actual sound, but in its tone. Wooyoung remembers Yeonjun’s voice within night’s spent up in the watchtower, huddled close together. He remembers it in whispers around the lunch table, jovial and bright amidst the darkness. 

He does not remember Yeonjun’s voice being so cold, nor so pointed. So hateful. 

“It’s not the kind of thing I would forget,” Yeonjun spits, releasing himself from Wooyoung’s grip. Wooyoung flinches, caught off guard by this ferocity of his words. 

“I didn’t mean-” Wooyoung starts, reaching out to place a comforting hand atop the boy’s shoulder. Yeonjun slaps it away. Hard. 

“Don’t touch me,” Yeonjun scowls. He takes a step forward, and Wooyoung finds himself stepping back. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me!”

“I-I’m sorry,”  Wooyoung says, and his voice is small as he takes another step back, pulling his hand away completely. 

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry,” Yeonjun says, and then Wooyoung is flying backwards. Blown by a sharp gust of wind, he hits his back against the ground. It sends a sharp spark of pain along his spine, and he winces as he continues to roll, using his elbows to protect his face as he tumbles backwards. 

When he finally comes to a stop, he looks up, watching as Yeonjun storms towards him. “You think that you being sorry is going to change anything? That it’s going to fix what you did?”

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, because it’s true. He has hated himself for what he did to Yeonjun. Dragging him into his plan to escape, the plan that ultimately got the boy killed. However, even with all of his guilt, regret, and self-hatred, he never once thought that he’d have to face Yeonjun again. That he would have to own up to his failure. His unforgivable mistake.

He deserves this.

“You’re right, I am dead,” Yeonjun says, no longer shouting, but the ice within his voice is just as powerful. “I’m dead and it’s because of you.”

A ball of fire ignites in Yeonjun’s hand that the younger boy pulls it back, before letting it fly towards Wooyoung. The fire hurtles towards him, its orange and yellow flames twisting and turning, growing in size with each passing second.

Wooyoung would never hurt Yeonjun. Not intentionally, not with his own hand or flame. So instead of firing back with his own, Wooyoung redirects the flame away from him, sending it sideways.

Except that he doesn’t, because the redirection doesn’t work. 

Yeonjun’s aim lands true as the flames engulf him.

Wooyoung thinks that he is screaming, but he can’t tell, his ears having gone deaf amongst the pain that radiates throughout his entire body. The burning sensation starts at his skin, thousands of little needles stabbing him everywhere from his face down to his feet. He can’t think beyond the burning, the heat intolerable as it consumes him. He begins to roll around on the ground, wailing in agony as he desperately tries to put the fire out. 

When the flames subside, Wooyoung can’t rise to his feet. He drags his hand along the ground, weak and shaking as he pulls it to his side, and he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored floor beneath him.

His skin bubbles and blisters, it’s once deep bronze having shifted to an angry and repulsive bright red. His hand twitches, shaking as he attempts to move it. He lets out a low whine of pain, tears glistening in his eyes.

He hears Yeonjun’s footsteps approach him. When the boy crouches down in front of Wooyoung, his eyes are full of malice. He does not smile, even as Wooyoung looks up at him through bleary eyes, weak and pathetic.

Yeonjun’s hand fills with fire, and instead of throwing it at him, he simply places it onto Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung watches in horror as his skin catches light, the needles returning as sharp pain cascades over his flesh. He lets out a broken cry, trying to move his other hand to put it out, but he’s too weak. His other hand merely shakes, awkwardly patting at the fire in a way that does nothing to put it out, but rather makes his other hand hurt even more.

“Use your gift, Wooyoung,” Yeonjun chides, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Or maybe you really are as useless as he claims.”

“He” meaning Warden. The only man Wooyoung has ever been genuinely afraid of. The only man who convinced Wooyoung that he was nothing. Has always been nothing. 

Is nothing, even now.

Yeonjun leans in closer, and when he speaks, his voice is a low whisper. “You deserve all that’s coming to you, Wooyoung. Remember that.”

The fire spreads up his arm and onto his shoulder, and Wooyoung closes his eyes, losing himself in the pain. It continues through him, the fire eating away at his flesh and burning its way into his mind. He can smell the smoke around him, and it's reminiscent of his skin. Rotten and vile, he breathes it again, mouth agape as he wails in agony. 

The fire consumes him until there is nothing left. His body gone, mind lost to the flames.

“Woo, get off of the floor,” a voice says from above him. 

Wooyoung blinks. His cheek is cool against the ground beneath him, as is the rest of his body that is sprawled out above it. He glances forward at his hand that sits out in front of him.

It looks normal, the burns completely vanished.

He narrows his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the mirror below him. All he sees is himself staring back, disbelieving. Wooyoung’s skin has returned to its normal, deep bronze rather than bright red, the blisters having disappeared entirely. His reflection blinks back at him. It’s as if nothing happened.

“Did you hit your head or something?” The voice says again, and Wooyoung glances up. Seonghwa stands above him,  looking down with a puzzled look on his face. 

Wooyoung frowns, a burst of both excitement and shame igniting within him, although he doesn’t know where it comes from. Did something happen between him and Seonghwa lately? He can’t seem to remember. 

“No, sorry,” Wooyoung replies, and Seonghwa extends a hand out. Wooyoung takes it, letting the blonde lift him back up to his feet. 

Wooyoung glances down at himself, at his once burnt clothing now perfectly in-tact. His frown deepens. “Do you know-” He begins, but whatever he was going to say dies on his lips, as when he glances up Seonghwa’s eyes are already staring into his own. 

Seonghwa is close, a little too close. His hand continues to hold Wooyoung’s, resting against Seonghwa’s own chest. His face is closer than Wooyoung thinks it’s ever been, mere inches apart, and Wooyoung can feel the heat that rises to his cheeks.

“I… I, um,” Wooyoung says stupidly.

“Hm?” Seonghwa hums, and a small smile grazes his lips. It’s coy, almost knowing, and if Wooyoung could feel the heat in his cheeks before then they’re practically burning now. “Were you saying something?”

Wooyoung swallows hard, and when he speaks again his voice is a whisper. “No.”

Seonghwa’s smile grows a little wider. “Good.”

Then Seonghwa kisses him.

It’s familiar in a way he can’t understand, almost as if he’s been here before, but also nowhere close. Seonghwa’s lips are soft, tender as they meet Wooyoung’s own. The empath’s hand is gentle as it reaches up to rest on the back of Wooyoung’s neck, whose mind melts. 

Seonghwa clearly feels the elemental stiffen in surprise, smiling against Wooyoung’s lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle that is oh-so-familiar, and Wooyoung lets the sound flow through his ears and fill the rest of him. His mind, his heart, his body. He lets himself become wrapped in the comfortability that is one of his closest friends, his mind’s long-harboured desire.

Seonghwa’s hand drifts from the back of the elemental’s neck to the front, fingers dancing along his Adam’s apple, which bobs as Wooyoung swallows in anticipation.

Then Seonghwa begins to squeeze.

His grip is not gentle, nor is it suggestive. Instead it is tight, increasingly uncomfortable, and Wooyoung tries to pull his lips away. “Hwa,” he murmurs, although it’s difficult to get out through the way Seonghwa’s hand squeezes around his airway. “Hwa, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” Seonghwa speaks against his lips, his tone shifting from fond to something that resembles seductive, but not quite. Mischievous, or even dangerous. “Awe.”

Seonghwa's grip shifts from uncomfortable to painful as he deepens the kiss, nails digging into Wooyoung’s skin as he presses harder on his airway. Wooyoung tried to pull away, to protest, but Seonghwa forcefully keeps his lips on Wooyoung’s own. 

Wooyoung places his hands on Seonghwa’s wrist, trying to pull his grip away. However, it’s as if Seonghwa has gained impenetrable strength, as his arm will not budge no matter how hard Wooyoung tries. Seonghwa finally pulls his lips away, looking down at Wooyoung, eyes full of a mocking pity.

“What’s wrong, Woo? Isn’t this what you’ve been imagining?” Seonghwa asks, and while Wooyoung opens his mouth to deny him, his squeezed airway prevents him from speaking. Seonghwa grins, squeezing tighter as he moves his face closer, his breath hot on Wooyoung’s skin. “Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming about in that sick head of yours?”

Wooyoung tries to cry out but all that comes out is a choked, pathetic sound that makes Seonghwa snicker. Blackness creeping into the corners of his vision, Wooyoung’s head begins to become foggy, everything fuzzy but the pain and image of Seonghwa before him.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, his effort to pull Seonghwa’s hand away diminishing with each passing second. Seonghwa notices it too, as he coos in disapproval. 

“You really thought I could love you, didn’t you?” Seonghwa says softly, grip tightening to keep Wooyoung awake. Tears begin to fill the elemental’s eyes as his chest aches, desperate for air. For release, one way or another. “That if anyone were able to love something as fucked up as you, maybe it would be me.”

Seonghwa leans in, and Wooyoung feels his eyes roll into the back of his head, nothingness beginning to replace the space his thoughts once resided.

“I could never love you, Woo. Nobody could. It’s time that you stop pretending otherwise.”

Wooyoung awakens to his cheek pressed against the cold mirrored floor. Again. 

Taking a deep, gasping breath, he feels his lungs fill with air. Hand drifting to his neck, he searches for the pain of bruising, only to find that there is nothing there. His neck feels fine, his breathing having returned to normal, and he curses beneath his breath.

“What the fuck is happening to me?” He thinks, staring up at the never-ending darkness above him. He searches his mind for the memory of where he is, how he got to this strange place, but can’t seem to find anything. The answer sits on the tip of his tongue, but he cannot speak it, the words just out of his reach.

Anxiety pulses within his head, hands shaky as he pulls them down to his side. He feels as if he’s going crazy. Maybe he is. Maybe he already has. 

Wooyoung rolls over, prepared to rise to his feet, only to be stopped by the sight of a man lying next to him. He faces away from Wooyoung, but from the outline of the muscles of his back that poke through his shirt and the strap of the eye-patch that wraps around the back of his head, Wooyoung knows that it’s San.

Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that San is with him. San always knows what’s going on, what to do when nothing seems to make sense. San will be able to put together what Wooyoung cannot.

He extends out a hand, letting it fall onto San’s shoulder, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. San’s skin is cool to his touch, smooth, and Wooyoung smiles at the comfortable familiarity of it.

“San,” he says, giving the swordsman a gentle shake. When San does not reply, Wooyoung shakes him a little harder. “San.”

When San still does not move, Wooyoung assumes that he is sleeping. It’s not surprising, as even for a man so keen and alert at all waking hours, he sleeps like the dead. Sitting up on his elbow, Wooyoung tugs on San’s shoulder, rolling him over.

Except that when Wooyoung’s gaze meets man’s face, San’s eye is not closed in peaceful slumber. It is wide-open, glazed, and worst of all, vacant.

Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

Time appears to stop for a moment, although it feels more like an eternity. Wooyoung stares down into San’s blank stare, the coolness of his skin suddenly making far too much sense. 

San is dead. 

San is dead.

“No,” Wooyoung murmurs, hand drifting from San’s shoulder to his chest, feeling for a heart-beat and finding nothing. Wooyoung pulls himself up onto his knees, leaning down to press his ear to San’s parted lips, listening for a breath. There is none to be found.

“No,” Wooyoung whispers, turning his head to press a kiss to the swordsman’s lips, one that goes unreciprocated. “No, no, no,” he protests, hands shaking as he grabs San’s jaw, pulling his mouth to his own.

San’s lips are cold, unmoving, and when Wooyoung pulls away from him his eyes are stained with tears. His throat swells, chest aching, and he lets out an open sob. It echoes throughout the empty darkness around them, over and over again, like a lament of agony.

“This is your fault.”

Wooyoung’s gaze shoots up. In front of him sits a young girl, no older than thirteen, her long black hair tangled and pale face stained with tears. 

“Winter,” Wooyoung whispers.

“You couldn’t just let him leave,” she says, voice shaking as her hands clutch onto San’s tunic. They tremble around the light fabric, in desperation, in anger, in devastation. “He knew what you would do to him, but you couldn’t let him go, could you?”

“I…” Wooyoung starts, tongue feeling too big for his mouth, mind fuzzy. “I did this?”

He looks down at his hands. They’re coated in blood, as is San’s shirt. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

“He loved you,” Winter says, eyes finally looking up to meet Wooyoung’s. The redness of her crying face and the gloss of her tears bring out the blue in them. “We both did. And this is what we get for it?”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung says, his voice barely above a whisper. Winter says nothing, her sobs merely grow louder, and Wooyoung looks down at San. The man he ruined. The man he destroyed. “I’m so sorry.”

When San makes no reply, as he no longer can, Wooyoung’s tears transform into loud, broken sobs. His own hand grabs onto San’s bloodied tunic, needing to hold a part of him but not daring to let himself touch the man’s skin. Tarnish him any more than he already has.

“I hate you,” Winter whispers, and it takes Wooyoung a minute to realize that although he’s heard her say those words before, it isn’t Winter speaking.

Wooyoung looks up to meet your gaze.

Your jaw is tightly clenched, your lip quivering. Although, what affects him the most is your eyes and the deep emotion they hold. A fiery blaze of distaste, of fury, wrath, and pure and unadulterated hatred.

“I hate you,” you say again, face contorting inward on itself as you look at him. “For everything you’ve done to me. For everything you’ve done to them. For everything you are.”

“I know,” he answers, and when he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper, as he lets out an admission. “I do too.”

He doesn’t notice the knife in your hand until it is buried in his chest.

Wooyoung stares down at the knife protruding out from him, your hand wrapped around its delicately engraved handle. It’s the one they gave to you, the one he took from you that first night.

He doesn’t fight it, doesn’t attempt to pull it out or shove you away. He deserves it.

Blood pools around the wound in his chest, leaking down. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead coughs, blood splattering from his mouth onto your face. You don’t seem to care.

You lean forward over San’s body, pressing your lips against his ear. However, when you speak, your voice is not your own. It’s deeper, more masculine. Familiar, although from where Wooyoung cannot place.

“Tell me where she is, Wooyoung. Tell me where she is and I’ll make it stop.”

“The refuge,” the answer comes immediately to his mind, dancing on his tongue, although he doesn’t know where it comes from or what it means. “She’s with the refugees. Sharing a tent with a young red-haired girl. It’s just three turns from the entrance.”

But he doesn’t say these words, even as the pain within his chest deepens, even as he wants everything to disappear. Even as he craves for the darkness to consume him, to rid him of this terrible mess. The horrors of everything he’s done. 

He doesn’t say these words because something in his mind screams that he can’t, something deep within him that pounds at the walls of his subconscious, that something is deeply, horrifically wrong. 

“Fine,” you say in that same voice that is not your own, leaning back from his ear to face him, the anger in your eyes having faded to a cold disinterest. “Have it your way.”

You twist the knife deeper and Wooyoung dies, this time in even more agony than the last.

This sword is nicer than San’s old one.

His old sword had been gifted to him from Gloria's blacksmith when he was thirteen. A kind old-man who knew the trouble that had entangled San, and wished to give the young boy a chance in a life where his fortune had run dry.

The sword was nothing special, hilt not quite heavy enough and wrapped in a cheap leather that had become worn over the years. It was not as flexible as to be expected of a good sword, and even with the trips he’d taken to sharpen the blade, the metal was becoming dull and had lost much of its durability. San was also thirteen upon receiving it, so of course, the blade was not long. Even for a short-sword, it had become too small with San’s growing height.

This sword doesn’t have those problems, with its thick hilt coated in fine leather. It clearly holds a stronger durability than the last, almost nimble with its flexibility. It’s even a little longer, allowing him to reach an opponent from a few inches further back, granting him better protection. 

The new sword is objectively better than his last in just about every way possible.

San hates it.

He hates the way the new sword glides through the air effortlessly, how the sharpness of the blade cuts deep against the wooden pole he strikes with a terrifying ease. He hates how it fits his hand so well, how the length suits him perfectly. It was made for him, fashioned for his grip..

There is no life to this sword. Not yet. It wasn’t given to him in a time of desperate need like his last, something to hold onto when everything else was falling apart. He has this sword because he simply needed a new one.

San misses his old sword. It’s heavy hilt and the roughness of the cheap leather against his palm. He misses how it wasn’t long enough, how he’d have to dance closer to danger within every battle. He misses the wrongness of it, and how right that wrongness felt. He misses the imperfection. The faults. The years spent getting used to those faults, of learning to navigate them. 

San wants his sword back.

San also knows that he isn’t thinking about weapons anymore.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, San takes a breath before attacking the pole before him once more. In a flurry of motion, he hacks at the pole’s cheap wood, landing blow after blow. There is no grace, no tactical finesse, just violence. The excuse of training having faded a long time ago, San simply seeks to cause damage.

Then he growls, a low noise of annoyance in the back of his throat, before throwing the sword to the ground. It clatters against a couple rocks, before settling itself in the grass, almost invisible within the night's shadow. Good, he doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

San leans against the pole, feeling the many indents he’s created against the bare skin of his back. His tunic sits discarded on the ground next to him, having been soaked through with sweat. He’s been at this for hours.

“Are you okay?” A voice asks from over his shoulder. San turns to see Seonghwa standing by their tent, a sad expression on his face. He asks more out of courtesy than anything else. San knows that the answer is obvious.

“No,” San says softly, and the honesty surprises him, but after a moment it doesn’t. San is tired of hiding how he feels about things. Of pretending things are fine when they so obviously aren’t. If he still had the energy for it after the last couple weeks — although more like years, really — then it left alongside Woo.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seonghwa asks.

“Not really,” San answers honestly. He’s been thinking about it for hours, the last thing he wants is to continue doing so. 

“Alright, we don’t have to, ” Seonghwa says gently. San peers back over at him. Seonghwa’s arms sit folded over his chest, eyes big and full of concern. His hair is tousled, patches of blonde sticking out in opposite directions, as if he were trying to sleep but couldn’t. He likely has been. San wonders how late it is, how long he’s been out here for. 

“Do you want to just come inside then?” Seonghwa offers instead, tilting his head towards the tent entrance. San considers this for a moment before deciding he would rather be anywhere other than beside this pole, and nods in affirmation.

Following Seonghwa inside the tent, San takes note of Seonghwa’s crumpled sheets, evidence of San’s assumption that the man has spent the last few hours tossing and turning rather than in rest. 

“Do you want some tea?” Seonghwa asks. 

“I’m alright.”

“Good. Whiskey then?”

San can’t help the chuckle he lets out at that. “Please.”

Seonghwa reaches into the basket Yeji had gifted them, filled to the brim with different delectables. San knew that it was nice of her to do, a kind gesture, but the cynical part of him saw the silliness of it. Here, your friend just got kidnapped for ransom, but maybe these scones will make you feel better about it.

However, maybe she also saw the futility of it, having added a rather hefty bottle of whiskey to the mix of sweets.

Seonghwa pours the whiskey into two ceramic cups before handing one over to San, who sits down on his own bed of blankets across from Seonghwa’s own. Woo’s remains between them, untouched. 

Seonghwa extends his cup forward to meet San’s own in a form of cheers, although to what exactly San doesn’t think Seonghwa knows the answer either. They both take a sip, and the liquid burns slightly as it trickles down San’s throat. He makes sure to drink a bit more than he normally would.

Swallowing his own whiskey before San does, Seonghwa looks down at Woo’s bed between them, gaze contemplative.

“Have you ever told me how you and Woo met?” Seonghwa asks.

San quirks a brow at this, a bit amused but at the same time confused. “Many times, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods at this, cheeks dusted with a faint shade of pink, as if he’s well aware of this fact and embarrassed to have been caught.

However, when the empath says nothing, San sighs. He knows that Seonghwa simply wants to talk about Woo, even if not about the situation at hand. The dire, horrible situation that plagues both of their minds with worry. The situation that San cannot bare to talk about, so lest he tear up this tent with his sword before heading up the mountain to kill the entire Dark Army himself

But how they met… he supposes he can talk about that. If it will bring Seonghwa some peace of mind, of course.

“We were both fourteen,” San begins, watching as an appreciative smile spreads over Seonghwa’s lips. “I’d been working a job for Jay, spying on an investor he suspected of embezzling The Cradle’s Funds. But I was still new to working for him, and hadn’t quite found my knack for stealth yet.”

Seonghwa closes his eyes as San speaks, as if what he’s saying is some sort of lullaby, a piece of comfort.

“He caught me hiding in the shrub garden of his courtyard and dragged me out by my hair onto the city street. He started screaming at me, before pulling out a knife from his back pocket," San says, and he can still remember that moment as clear as day. The terror that consumed him, that kept him frozen in place as the man advanced towards him.

San does not tell Seonghwa this, but what he remembers most is how in that moment he thought about how nobody would care if the man killed him. His father had left him, his mother and sister were both dead, and his expendability in Jay’s eyes was made blatantly clear by the fact that he sent San to deal with this man in the first place.

If the man killed San right then and there, nobody would have batted an eye. He would just become another one of the many nameless, faceless victims of Gloria’s streets.

“The man came towards me, and I remember closing my eye as he lifted the blade in the air. I didn’t want to see it enter me, I knew I couldn’t handle that.”

“But then Woo showed up,” Seonghwa says softly.

“Yeah,” San breathes, unable to help the smile that curves across his lips. “But then Woo showed up.”

San takes a deep breath, before letting his own eye close, reliving it. “Across the darkness I saw a bright flash of light, and could feel a sudden rush of heat across my face. I opened my eye in a panic. I thought that maybe I’d died, that he stabbed and killed me instantaneously, that the light had meant I’d ascended or that the heat was the fires of Hell.”

“But when I opened my eyes I saw the man standing before me, except that now his arm that was holding the knife was completely engulfed in flame. The look on his face when he saw it was priceless, completely in shock as he ran back into his house screaming for help, the poor boy in front of him that he was about to murder completely forgotten.”

“Then Woo walked up to me, standing up with his arms crossed. The light of the sun shone out behind him, and I remember at the time thinking he must have been the god of fire himself. Or maybe an angel that came to save me. It’s ridiculous knowing him now, but at the time I really believed it.”

“What was the first thing Woo said to you again?” Seonghwa asks, and San chuckles.

“He asked me ‘Were you really just going to sit there and let him kill you?’ I shakily replied yes, and then he said ‘That’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?’”

Seonghwa laughs at this, shaking his head to himself. San gets it. Even now, so many years later, it’s a very Woo sort of thing to say.

“I thought about it, and then agreed that yeah, it was pretty pathetic. He laughed, and then somehow I found myself laughing too. He helped me up, and then that was it.”

“That was it?” Seonghwa asks, inquiring what he means by that.

“That was it. He never left my side after that. I joined him in his camp outside of the town. He helped me train with my sword even if his own knowledge on the subject was next to none. He never wanted to see me so helpless again. He joined me on countless missions that Jay sent me on, even the nasty ones, the ones that still keep me up some nights.”

San takes in a deep breath. “He was just… there. When I had no-one, he was there. I don’t know what I would have done without him.”

San looks down at Woo’s sleeping mat between them. Pristine. Untouched. A testament to his absence.

Things between him and Woo have been horrible lately. It’s been years of build up, of the little issues growing larger, of San’s discontentment boiling beneath the surface. He knows that things with Woo will never change. He knows the elemental will never give San all of himself. 

But it’s in these little moments, when he thinks about their past and everything that has happened between them, that he wants nothing more than to have Woo with him. In any form. In a blistering argument, in the cold quiet following, in his bed even when he knows the elemental will be gone come morning.

He simply needs Woo there. Even when it’s wrong, even when he knows it’s an awful, gut-wrenching codependence at times. He needs him. 

And with Woo gone, taken from him, it’s now that he knows this more than ever.

But then he remembers the jealous spats over the last few weeks. The many morning’s waking up alone. The way that Woo jumped after him over that cliff…

“I don’t know what happened at the lake,” Seonghwa starts, tentative and unsure. Clearly cautious to continue forward. “But do you think you guys will be able to work things out?”

“I don’t know,” San breathes, and it’s true. “I really don’t know, Hwa.”

Seonghwa nods, taking this in. He begins to chew on the corner of his cheek, nervous. “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead,” San says, taking a sip of his drink as Seonghwa takes a deep breath.

“Woo kissed me.”

San chokes on his whiskey.

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa says as San sputters and uses a fist to pound at his chest, forcing himself to cough. “I should have waited until you swallowed first, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” San says through coughs, and while he tries to keep the blatant shock out of his tone, he fails miserably. “Woo kissed you?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa answers, voice breathy and small.

“When?” San asks, bewildered.

“Before they captured him.”

“Before they captured him,” San repeats, more to himself than Seonghwa. He runs the idea of it through his head, although it doesn’t make much more sense to him. 

Woo kissed Seonghwa. He actually did it. Recently. Just the night before.

“Are you mad?” Seonghwa asks.

“No,” San says absently, before really registering the question. He looks over at Seonghwa, who looks at him, knees drawn up to his chest. His fingers tap against the cup in his hands as he chews on the corner of his cheek, both nervous habits of his.

San realizes that Seonghwa is genuinely scared that he’ll be upset with him, and even amidst the shock, San’s heart softens.

“No. I’m not mad, Hwa,” he says gently, running a hand through his hair to pull it out of his face as he takes another small sip of his drink. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

San knew Woo had feelings for Seonghwa, he has for years. He could tell by the way Woo looked at the empath in absent moments, when he thought nobody was looking. That undeniable fondness in his gaze that told San everything he needed to know. He noticed as Woo stiffened at Seonghwa’s touch, the way his breath would catch in his throat, just as San’s own did. 

Yes, San knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa. San just didn’t know that Woo knew that Woo had feelings for Seonghwa.

“I know, it was a lot for me to take in too,” Seonghwa says, before letting out a small laugh that doesn’t hold much humour. “Still is.”

“How did it happen?” San asks.

“We were arguing…about her, amongst other things,” Seonghwa says with a shrug. “And it quickly escalated to fighting. I asked— well, I yelled at him asking why he cared so much about what I do, and then he grabbed me and kissed me.”

It makes sense. If there is any scenario San could imagine Woo confronting his feelings, it’s in a fit of rage. 

“After he kissed you, then what did he do?” San asks.

Seonghwa sighs, and when he speaks his tone is bashful, cheeks flushed as if he’s embarrassed to say it aloud. “He ran away.”

“For fuck’s sake, Woo,” San thinks, giving him a mental slap that he hopes the elemental can feel from miles away. 

But San isn’t going to complain about Woo right now, because that’s not why Seonghwa brought this up, it’s not what the empath really needs. He just needs someone to listen.

“Do you know how you feel about it?” San asks, tone gentle.

“No,” Seonghwa says quietly. San catches a glimpse of annoyance in his eyes, as Seonghwa’s expression shifts from bashful to frustrated, lips drawing themselves into a tight line.

“No, I don’t. How am I supposed to know how I felt about it? If I liked it?” Seonghwa says, standing up from his sleeping mat and beginning to pace around the tent. However, given its small size he doesn’t have much room to actually pace, instead walking a mere few steps forward and back.

“There was no tenderness to it. It was nothing like a real kiss should be. He just grabbed my face and shoved it into his and then said ‘Sorry Seonghwa, you’re going to have to figure that one out on your own, I'm off to get kidnapped!’” Seonghwa says the last part in a high pitched sing-song sort of way, one that doesn’t really sound like Woo, but at the same time a lot like him in spirit.

Seonghwa sighs, taking a sip of his drink before pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he has a headache. When he speaks again, his voice becomes quiet. “That's not fair. I know it’s not fair. But neither is what he did.”

San looks up at the empath, contemplative. “Any ideas as to what it means to you yet?” 

“No,” Seonghwa answers immediately, before appearing to think better of it. “That's a lie. So many. Too many. I don't know, it’s just…”

He trails off, giving San a nervous glance that tells the swordsman that Seonghwa is worried of making him uncomfortable. San gives him a gentle smile, a signal to keep going despite it.

Seonghwa takes a deep breath. “It’s always been you and him. Always, from the moment I met you both. There was never another option, so I never considered another option. It would have been unfair. To you, to him, to myself… So I don't know. I honestly don’t know if I think of him that way. I don’t know if I think of guys that way. But now he’s gone and that’s like, the least of our problems to be worried about right now, but I just…”

“I know. I get it,” San says, because he does. He’s been there. San hadn’t loved a man until he met Woo, and falling for the elemental certainly wasn’t easy. Figuring out Woo had always been like deciphering a puzzle, or even navigating a ship out on a foggy day at sea. Disorientating, frustrating, and requiring a strong will and patient temper. 

Seonghwa sighs. “I don't know what to do.”

San see’s Seonghwa standing there, dejected and confused and what he’d dare to call a little heartsick, and the words come out of his mouth before he even registers that he’s thought of them.

“You could kiss me.”

Seonghwa’s gaze shoots back at him, and when he speaks his tone is hesitant, maybe even a little pointed as his lips hover above the rim of his glass. “That's not funny.”

San looks up at him, expecting to feel caught, or to begin back-tracking. Play it off as a joke and cover up his feelings as he’s so often done in the past, let them exist to him and nobody else.

Instead he says:  “I wasn't joking.”

And he isn’t.

He isn’t because San realizes that Seonghwa is not repulsed by the idea of Woo kissing him, or of even Woo loving him. He’s upset that Woo didn’t do it more cautiously, that he didn’t let Seonghwa give any input on his own thoughts or feelings. He’s upset that Woo did all of this in a moment of anger and aggression, without asking, and without apparent thought or care.

Seonghwa is not upset that Woo confessed to loving him, he’s upset that he didn’t do so tenderly.

“San,” Seonghwa says, and his tone is difficult to read. He says it like a warning, telling San to think about what he’s saying, what he’s really offering here. But San is thinking about, a small part of him always has been.

“I’m serious, Hwa. Think about it,” San starts, and he tries to keep his demeanour nonchalant, even as his heart begins to rapidly pick up pace in his chest. “You said you aren’t sure if you’re into guys. Well, I’m a guy. I’m not horrible to look at. You’re comfortable around me. It might help you sort some things out.”

“But…” Seonghwa trails off, and his complexion has gone a bit pale, clearly taken aback by the proposition. “But it’s you. It’s us.”

“Look, if you don’t feel anything or don’t like it I’m not going to take it personally,” San says, and maybe that’s not completely true, but what he says next is. “I’m not going to let it ruin our friendship. I promise.”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, large brown eyes scanning the swordsman’s face, as if searching for something. Eventually he speaks, and his voice is barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

“Really?” San asks despite himself, unable to contain his surprise.

“Yeah, whatever, okay,” Seonghwa says, his voice breathy, small, and all-around nervous. He walks over to sit down in front of San, this time on Woo’s unused sleeping mat rather than his own. Seonghwa does so with such a quickness that San is pretty sure the empath is trying to commit to this before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Seonghwa asks, gaze meeting San’s own. When he speaks his tone is embarrassed, maybe even a little self-conscious. “I mean, it’s me.”

Seonghwa says “me” as if that’s something that would deter him. As if there’s no possible way that San would want to kiss him, of all people. As if that were something San should be repulsed by.

San decides that with this kiss, he’ll prove to Seonghwa just how wrong he is about that.

Reaching forward to take hold of the empath’s jaw, San’s grip is gentle as his fingers dust along Seonghwa’s cheek. Seonghwa’s skin is warm, a beautiful kind of soft, and San takes a moment to run his thumb along Seonghwa’s cheekbone, his own heart fluttering at the way the empath’s skin floods with a light shade of pink.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut, lips parted open slightly, waiting for San to accept them. San waits for a moment, taking in the sight before him, registering that this is actually happening. That Seonghwa - the man he’s only let himself love in seclusion, in weakness, in devastating secret - waits for San’s lips to meet his own.

Closing his good eye, San takes Seonghwa’s face in his hand, fingers grazing the conjunction between his neck and jaw. The empath’s skin is warm and San wonders if he’s blushing.

Seonghwa’s lips are soft. Softer than San imagined them to be, admittedly watching the empath’s mouth at times rather than his eyes. Embarrassing. Foolish. Pitiful. 

But perhaps not anymore. Not right now. Right now is anything but such cruel negativity.

San makes sure that the kiss is good. That it holds a sense of passion, by no means chaste or hesitant, but also is not aggressive or to the point of formidability. He grips Seonghwa’s jaw a little tighter, pulling him in deeper.

More than anything, San makes sure that the kiss is tender. 

Seonghwa sucks in a tight breath, and for a moment San fears that he’s uncomfortable, repulsed by it. That this was a mistake. That the rejection he’s been terrified of for so long is just a moment away. Maybe Seonghwa won’t even be able to look at him after, he’ll be too disgusted. 

But then Seonghwa’s hand finds itself on San’s arm. It rests there, Seonghwa’s fingers gently gripping San’s tunic. In that moment, the swordsman can almost feel as the fear and anxiety leaves his mind, draining from his body like a fruit squeezed of its juice. 

Not rejection. Maybe not acceptance, maybe not a confession or admission on Seonghwa’s behalf. But not rejection.

And with no rejection to be found, San knows what he must do.

He pulls away from Seonghwa’s lips, albeit not far, as he rests his forehead against the empath’s own. He can’t look Seonghwa in the eye for this, he knows it will make him too much of a coward to get the words out.

“I need to tell you something now,” San says.

Seonghwa’s voice is shaky as he speaks, quiet as his breath grazes San’s lips. “Okay.”

San holds his breath, as if he is about to dive underwater.

“I love you.”

There is a pause, and while San knows that realistically it is no more than a few seconds, it feels far more like an eternity as they pass by. He imagines all of the things Seonghwa could say. All the many variations of rejection or denial he could utter, ranging from a simple “no” to an entire memoir on why Seonghwa would never feel the same.

Seonghwa says none of these things. Instead he asks: “As in how?”

It takes San a moment to register what Seonghwa is asking. “As in I’m in love with you,” San clarifies.

“But…” Seonghwa starts, and in the moment’s pause he finally draws away from San’s face. When he looks at San, his face gives nothing away, a surprise given the empath’s often animated nature. Perhaps it is because he also does not know how he feels, how to respond to such a confession. Seonghwa does not smile, nor does he frown. His eyes do not light up with joy, nor do they swim with despair. 

In fact, the only emotion San can read is the wariness within Seonghwa’s gaze. A deep sense of caution. “What about Woo?” Seonghwa asks.

“I also love Woo.” San says, because it is true. Even after everything. Even after what happened at the beach the other night. Even with the line dug in the sand between them, a line that San himself has drawn, he knows that he will always love Woo. Always. 

Seonghwa frowns, eyebrows furrowing together into a puzzled look, as if the possibility of loving two people in such a way had never occurred to him before. As if the possibility of San loving two people in such a way were impossible. 

“I love him differently,” San admits, before thinking about it for a moment. “But at the same time, maybe not so differently either.”

“I don’t get it,” Seonghwa says, and for a moment San believes that he is talking about how San could love them both, but then Seonghwa clarifies: “How can you love me? For the last year you’ve kept me at such a distance. You’ve barely been able to touch me, let alone anything more than that.”

The words settle like a stone in San’s gut, and he thinks of their conversation at the fire after their run-in at The Desert Lotus. How Seonghwa had believed that he made San uncomfortable.

It was true. Touching Seonghwa did make San uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with how with each touch filled him with the desire to touch him more.

San’s voice is quiet as he speaks. “And why do you think that is, Hwa?”

“I don’t know,” Seonghwa answers, an immediate response, dejected as his gaze drifts away from San to look downwards. To Woo’s bed beneath them.

A flash of realization dawns on Seonghwa’s features, lighting up within the empath’s eyes. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” San says, unable to hide the amused smile that grazes his lips. “Oh.”

Seonghwa seems to consider this for a moment, before looking back up at San. “You know I love you too, right?

San’s eyebrows shoot up at this, and Seonghwa rushes to clarify. “Maybe not in the same way. Or maybe I do. I honestly don’t know. This is all new. I need some time to think about it.”

San nods. That’s fair. He hadn’t expected Seonghwa to immediately reciprocate his feelings. Although, maybe a little part of him deep down had foolishly hoped that he would.

Seonghwa seems to take note of the slight solemnity to San’s smile, and places his hand over the swordsman’s own. “But either way, I love you. And I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”                                             

“You won’t” San replies, and it is instant. It is instinct. It is the truth. “Take all of the time you need.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, giving San’s hand a soft squeeze.

A moment of silence passes between them, and despite its slight awkwardness, San finds it the least tense he’s felt around Seonghwa in a very long time. It’s as if a weight has been taken off of his shoulders, finally free of the deep sense of guilt in the quiet moment’s between them. When San’s mind would wander, and he’d hate himself for thinking such things about his closest friend, and then hate himself even more for being too much of a coward to tell his closest friend what he was thinking.

But now Seonghwa knows. He knows. And no matter the outcome, no matter what he feels towards San in return, San no longer has to hide or wallow in his own guilt.

It is freeing.

Seonghwa takes a sip of his drink. “That was a good kiss though,” he mumbles over the rim of his glass, and San laughs. A real laugh, bubbling up from his chest. It’s been too long since he laughed like that.

Then, as if a reminder of how not all good things can last, Yeji bursts in through the tent flap.

“She’s gone,” Yeji says, voice cracking with shock and worry. She’s wrapped in her blanket to cover her nightgown, her hair falling in tangled red curtains over her shoulders, clearly having just woken up. “She’s gone and a horse is missing.”

San’s heart drops down into his stomach.

He doesn’t need to ask who the “she” is that Yeji refers to, nor does he need to question where you went.

You’ve gone to find Woo. Alone.

You've gone to find Woo, alone, amongst men who are willing to pay a fortune to see you dead.

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes, voicing San’s own thoughts.

“Do you know when she left?” San asks, as it couldn't have been long ago. It had to be some time after San came inside the tent, otherwise he would have noticed you sneak out.

“Her bed is still warm. So recently,” Yeji answers, confirming San’s suspicions. 

“Alright,” San breathes, before turning to Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement, and without another word, they’re on their feet and heading out through the tent flap. Annoyance bubbles within San’s gut. He told you not to go. He told you to wait until he came up with a plan. A plan that meant getting both you and Woo to safety, not forcing you all to pick between one or the other. He is not one of the gods and has no interest in playing one.

You seem to have made the decision yourself, and while San resents you for not telling him or Seonghwa what you were planning, he understands why you did it.

Because San was never going to come up with a better plan. Time has been ticking since the moment he found the message scrawled in the alley, and his ideas have run dry. There is no better way, it was always going to end in you heading up the mountain to Woo’s aid. You wouldn’t have had it any other way, and deep down San knows he would have had it the same.

He just wishes that they were there with you. There to help you. To protect you. To kill these men with far too much power, who took everything from you.

Who took everything from him when they kidnapped Woo.

The sun has begun to set over the horizon as you ride along the Concorsus Mountain Pass.

An entire day having come and gone, your pace relentless as you rode in a restless pursuit, your body now aches in protest. Your thighs burn from their friction against the horse’s back, the muscles in your arms throbbing from maintaining your grip on the reins. Your stomach rumbles and groans, gnawing at your insides in hunger, head-pounding in demand of water.

But there is no time to eat or drink, not when only the god’s know what the black-clad men are doing to Woo.

You’ve had an awful lot of time spent in silence to consider the many possibilities of how they could be torturing him, all too gut-wrenching and grotesque to even think about. You try to push away the images of Woo bathed in blood, his face swollen with bruises and infected wounds. You hope that they have him in a room somewhere, untouched, awaiting your inevitable arrival.

You also recognize this as wishful thinking.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you focus on the trail ahead of you. The Concorsus Mountain Pass is not an easy ride, the ground full of jagged rocks and rolling hills that have put your elementary equestrian skills to the test. Looming cliffs rest on each side of you, the black-colour of the rock like two blankets of darkness threatening to crush you between them.

The black-clad men did not specify where along the pass you were to meet them, but as you continue to ascend higher and higher, the increase in altitude making you feel both dizzy and nauseous, you imagine that they are stationed at the mountain’s summit.

As far away from Bebbanburg and any chance at aid you could possibly be.

You swallow hard, riding onwards. You have no help here, no protection. Having abandoned the safety net that San and Seonghwa created, you are truly alone in this. Your only protection is the sword attached to your waist, as well as Minho’s elixir residing in your pocket— if you could even consider that protection. It’s old magic, not even the god’s know what it will do. You aren’t particularly keen on ingesting it.

But if it comes down to a choice between life and death, a matter of saving Woo, you will.

With this in mind, you approach a rock wall. It’s not particularly large, five-feet tall at most, but your horse whinnies in protest as it comes to a stop before it. You try to give it a bit of encouragement, but the animal does not budge, clomping its hooves in irritation.

You sigh. This is not a horse from the kingdom stables, bred to ride and trained to jump, you have to leave it behind. Letting yourself down from its back, you grab the cliff’s edge, pulling yourself up and over the wall. Crawling up off your knees, you cast the animal a glance backwards, to which it meets with its black marble eyes.

The horse continues to huff, neighing in frustration. You frown as the animal grows louder, squealing as it lifts up onto its back legs, crying out.

“What the…” you mutter to yourself.

“It’s trying to warn you,” a voice says from behind.

You twist around, hand reaching for the sword at your waist, but you are not fast enough. The stranger grabs your wrist as you turn around, his other hand digging into your scalp. He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

He’s young, maybe only a couple years older than yourself, with dark eyes and pale skin. His light hair is made brighter through its contrast with the black armour he wears.

“Hey, Princess,” the man says, grinning. You spit in his face, but he simply laughs, giving your hair a sharp tug backward. His laughter is quickly accompanied by others, as more black-clad men appear from behind different dark rocks along the mountain walls. You count what appears to be a half-dozen of them, all different ages and sizes, appearances united only through the black armour they wear. 

Giving your body a sharp twist, you catch the man off guard, before giving him a swift knee to the groin. He lets out a groan, his grasp on your hair relinquishing itself as he stumbles backward.

You’re prepared to run, to jump down from the cliff and back to your horse in hopes of finding more allusive passage, when you feel the coolness of metal along your throat.

“You’ve gained some spunk since we last saw you,” the man holding the knife whispers, seizing your wrist as he tugs your arm behind your back. You wonder if he was one of the men that chased you down the corridors following the besiegement, that hunted you in your father’s library. That killed Mingi in the stable.

“Good,” another adds, although which of the men is speaking you cannot tell. “It’ll make this all the more enjoyable.”

You were correct about their base being set at the mountain’s summit.

The men have been dragging you with them for what you assume has been roughly an hour, the setting sun having finally fallen victim to the night’s darkness. Stars glitter in the sky above you, and they are the only light present besides the singular torch one of the men carries, alighting the mountain pass in an ominous, orange hue.

They’ve remained silent since your capture, although the glances and cunning grins they’ve exchanged between one another have spoken loud enough. You don’t know what exactly is waiting for you at the summit, but you know it isn’t pretty.

The cave you approach at the top of the mountain seems fitting, as it's possibly the most unwelcoming entry-way you’ve ever seen. Sharp rocks align its entrance, each of them bleached white from sun exposure, creating the illusion of a monster’s gaping mouth.

You swallow hard, fear curdling within your stomach. It’s fitting, as entering a beast's mouth seems an awful lot like what you are doing. 

Upon entering the cave, the initial darkness does not last long, as you spot light further up ahead of the winding tunnel. As you draw closer, you recognize the light to be lanterns, strown up and around the cave. The bustle of people fills your ears, their chatter growing louder with each passing step. When you finally leave the tunnel and enter the cave’s main area, you blink in surprise.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. Solemnity, perhaps. A dark cave with minimal light, nobody talking. A monster’s domain.

Instead, it reminds you an awful lot of the refuge, albeit smaller. There are plenty of tents set up, people sharing in conversation between them. Others spend their time chopping firewood, or brushing dirt and gravel away from their own tent’s entrance. To the left of the camp-site is a massive ravine, haphazardly blocked off by wooden pegs stringed together with rope. You are not close enough to the edge to tell, but you imagine the fall to be  hundreds of feet down. Deadly.

You glance around, watching the many men bustling about, as if this were merely a war-camp and not the station of murderess assailants.

Then you see him.

Woo resides on a makeshift parapet in the center of the camp, chains clamped around his wrists that are attached to large stone pillars on both sides of him. He sits on his knees, head hanging out in front of him, his hair falling in a dark mop that hides face. It appears that if it weren’t for the chains holding his arms up, he’d have already crumpled over.

Your blood runs cold.

The talking comes to a quiet as you enter, the dozens of black-clad soldiers all turning away from their conversations or menial tasks to face you. “Look who we found wandering,” the man holding you says, bringing his knife up from your throat to your cheek. He presses the blade against your jaw, forcing you to look up, displaying your face to the many men watching you.

Some of the men begin to snicker, a few even cheer as the man pushes the blade a little harder, piercing your skin. You can feel the blood trickle down your neck, although the sensation feels more like a dream than reality, as you catch sight of a man walking towards you.

Not just any man, but the one that chased you through the library. The one that cornered you in the stables.

The man responsible for Mingi’s death.

He walks slowly, almost a saunter as he appears to be in no rush. His posture holds a sense of confident ease, of power, and you’re certain that he is the commander of this army. His narrow, wrinkled face adorns a thick black beard. His eyes are dark, sharp as they scan you up and down, a satisfied smile plastered across his lips.

“Well,” the commander says, his voice not particularly deep, but intimidating nonetheless. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You say nothing, merely stare back at him, venom in your gaze.

“I’m assuming you’re here to save your friend then,” he says, continuing despite your silence. “How very noble.”

You do not give him the satisfaction of a retort.

“You’ve become rather stoic since I last saw you,” the commander says, eyes flashing with something awful. Something cruel. “Before you wouldn’t stop screaming. Begging your other friend not to sacrifice himself— the tall silver-haired boy, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, tears stinging in the backs of your eyes. They are born of rage, not sadness. You do not let them fall.

“I suppose this is some sort of retribution for that, isn’t it?” The man continues, tone calm, almost light. “He gave his life for you, so now you’ll give yours for another.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, this time louder and with far more bite.

“You should have heard him scream. You should have heard the sound it made when my sword entered him again and again-”

You’ve had enough of this. Tears sting your eyes, fists trembling at your sides. You don’t have to listen to this man, give in to his taunts. He simply wants to have some enjoyment before he kills you, some sick sort of pleasure. Your father always said it was impolite to play with your food, and for once you’d have to agree with him.

“Woo!” You shout, turning your attention away from the man in front of you, from his barbed provocation. When Woo does not look at you, nor move his head from its slumped position, you try again. “Woo, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately, Wooyoung isn’t quite with us anymore,” the commander answers with a sigh, tone sympathetic, although the smile he wears is anything but. “Not mentally, anyway.”

You frown at the use of Woo’s full name. How does he know that? Did Woo tell him?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your voice low as fury rises hot in your throat, pulsing within your mind.

The man grins. A mischievous, dangerous, evil grin. “Would you like to come and see?”

The commander nods towards the man holding you, giving a look that says— no, orders: “Let her go.” The man’s knife falls away from your throat as he reliquishes his grip on your arm. You can still feel the spot where his fingers were, aching where bruises will surely soon appear.

Nobody moves to grab you, and it strikes you that in this moment, you could try to flee. Bolt back down the tunnel, dozens of men sure to take after you and grab you once more. You’re certain they would be far less liberal on your second capture.

You could try and fight. Relinquish your sword from its sheath and take out as many as possible. It would likely be only one or two, considering they’d all be on you and you don’t have San here to coach you through it. By the god’s you wish that San were here.

But he is not, and thus instead of fleeing or fighting you follow the man, obeying as his hand beckons you forward. “Good girl,” he says, and your gut clenches in disgust, face twisting with repulsion.

If the commander is offended by the expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead he continues walking, the two of you winding past different groups of the black-clad men, each of their gazes falling over you. You feel like a gazelle in a den of lions, their stares hungry for your blood.

When you reach Woo, you take a step forward, unsure of what exactly you plan to do. Perhaps move the thick mess of tangled hair from his face, or give the chains some slack to loosen the pull on his wrists. You just need to do something.

The commander places an arm out, stopping you. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not me,” you cut back through gritted teeth, moving towards Woo. You crouch down, reaching for the chain on his right wrist.

“Woo, I’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice level, even as it shakes. The commander had suggested that Woo wasn’t mentally here, and while you aren’t sure exactly what that may mean, you know you should navigate this with caution. 

When your hand touches the chain around his wrist, Woo lets out an awful, blood-curdling noise. You’d describe it as a scream, but that would make it too human. It is nothing less than animalistic.

Flames emerge from the elemental’s palms, scorching your arm. You yank your hand away, wincing as pain bubbles within your fingers. Despite yourself, you step back, clutching your burnt hand.

Woo looks at you, except that he doesn’t really. Instead his eyes almost look through you, unfocused and distant, although that’s the least of what worries you about his appearance. 

Apart from the unsettling and distant look to his eyes, the whites of them have shifted to a strange and unnatural purple colour, like blooming lilacs during the spring season. It contrasts greatly against the many thick red veins expanding out from his pupils, which have spread across his iris’ in a way that reminds you of black marbles.

His wrists are laced with wounds, the metal of his bonds having heated up due to the fire he unleashed from his palms. The burns are clearly infected as they beam a revolting yellow, puss forming within their deep gashes. Those will scar, you have no doubt.

Sweat beads along Woo’s temple, trailing down his face and onto his neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his entire body is drenched, all of his clothes soaked through. He trembles, tremors seizing his body as he breathes heavily, chest heaving as he appears to not be able to get enough air.

“What did you do to him?” You whisper. The man chuckles.

“We gave him an elixir of sorts,” he answers, and your stomach twists at the thought. Old magic. The weight of your own potion grows heavy in your pocket.

Woo continues to shake, arms trembling as he continues to look through you. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to murmur beneath his breath, although what exactly you cannot make out. You didn’t know what the men would do to him, what state he would be in, but you never could have imagined this. Fury twists in your gut like a cheap ale, making you feel sick with ferocity.

“Why would you do this?” You ask, and it’s the question that has been pressing down on your shoulders ever since you watched the dagger enter your father's stomach. You twist towards the commander, and despite how he stands taller than you, you do not let yourself appear weak. Chin held up high, you meet his gaze.

“Why would you destroy my kingdom? Why would you spend so much time and effort hunting me across Burovia? Why would you place such an utter fortune of a bounty on my head?” You look him up and down. “Who are you?”

The man grins. “Me? I am nobody.”

“Enough games-” You snarl, but he merely shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave.

“You think I care about a pampered royal brat bred by a kingdom of snakes?” The commander asks, his dark eyes glimmering in the many lantern’s light. “I couldn't care less about your disaster of a court, although I must say I enjoyed burning it to the ground.”

You frown. “Then why would you-”

“Because my employer cares,” he cuts you off, tone final. He folds his arms behind his back, a clicking noise filling the air as he taps his fingers along his black armor. 

“Who is your employer?” You press further, ignoring how the noise matches the beat of your racing heart, that’s pace only increases with each passing second.

“I am not to say,” he answers with a shrug.

You grit your teeth, frustration building in your chest. “If you plan to kill me then what does it matter?”

The man hums, grin growing wider with satisfaction. “Does it scare you, the possibility of never knowing?” He takes a step forward. “Does it terrify you to never know why your kingdom burned to ash, to never know why your father was murdered?”

The man is close now, peering down at you, the crow’s feet along the edges of his ageing eyes more prominent as he stands before you. He reaches forward, running two of his fingers along your bare cheek.

“Does it frighten you that you’ll never know why you died?” He asks.

You do not flinch, even as he touches you, even as your body demands it. “You do not scare me,” you lie.

He chuckles at this, his hand still placed on your cheek, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin. “Your eyes say otherwise.”

The commander reaches to his side, pulling out a knife. Its long blade is serrated, details of stars carved into its wooden hilt. It reminds you a bit of the one Seonghwa gave you, the one Woo took on that first night you met them.

He extends the blade out towards you, hilt settled neatly in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honours? Or should I?”

You stare at the knife out before you, its blade a cool white, almost glowing within the cave’s dim lighting. He’s offering you a choice. Not of whether or not you will die, but how. Or better, by whom.

To do the deed yourself, or have it done by his own hand. 

Your hand hovers out in front of you, fingertips a mere inch away from the hilt. You stare at the knife, at its cool iron, at its spotless white blade. Soon to be tainted. Your hand shakes despite your attempt to steady it.

It’s a horrible, horrible decision to make.

Fortunately, the arrow that embeds itself in the commander’s arm liberates you from making it.

Sticking out from the crook of his elbow, nestled within a small gap in armor that was designed for amplified movement, the man lets out a shocked groan of pain. The knife clatters on the cave’s rocky floor as he brings his hand to the wound, the blood emerging from the black fabric not noticeable until it coats his pale fingers.

In unison, both you and the commander twist in the direction from which the arrow flew.

Seonghwa stands atop a rock in the far corner of the cavern, bow drawn up, still in the position from which he let the arrow fly. You nearly let out a cry of relief. Joyous, unadulterated relief.

A scream cuts through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

There’s another noise, a gargled and choked sort of cry, and you hear the sharp sound of the many black-clad men unsheathing their swords before you actually see them do it.

This is because your focus is not on them. It’s on San, as he holds a body out before him. It’s one of the men that captured you on the mountain pass, the young blonde. San’s sword sticks out through the man’s chest, blood pooling out from his mouth as his eyes grow dim.

It’s immediate, how the cavern erupts into chaos.

“Seize them!” The commander orders his battalion, before ripping the arrow from his arm. Despite the blood leaking from the now open wound, his movements are agile as he removes the sword from his own sheath. The blade is as black as night, matching its shadowy hilt.

You stare him down, relinquishing your own sword, your mother’s sapphire glittering.

You prepare to take a step forward, however, something presses up behind your back. You prepare to twist around, strike the oncoming threat. However, San’s voice fills your ear, quiet as he speaks over his shoulder. “We move together.”

“Alright,” you breathe, lifting your long-sword out before you as San’s back presses into your own. “Together.”

The black-clad men attack.

They move at you from all directions. San places his free-hand along your waist, guiding you with him. The two of you move with the grace of one being, fending off the dark wave of men that surround you like a swarm of hornets defending their hive.

You swing at one of the men, catching his shoulder as San pushes on your left hip. You move with it, narrowly dodging the strike of a different enemy blade, the breeze of his swing cool against your cheek. The failed strike catches the owner of the blade off-balance, allowing you to seize the opportunity to stab your sword into the soft spot of his breastplate, straight through the opening just below the pit of his arm. The man cries out, face knotting together in agony as he falls to the ground.

You do not allow yourself the time to dwell on how you’ve likely just taken that man’s life, how there are even more to come, as you slice your sword along another soldier’s neck. Save yourself, save Woo, save your kingdom. You can mourn the horrors of your deeds later, for now that is all that matters.

You catch a glimpse of a man in the corner of your vision, hair the colour of flame as he sneaks in behind the soldier whose chest you currently run-through with your blade. You won’t reach him in time, his sword is raised high in the air, another second and he’ll bring it down on your neck-

An arrow shoots right through his skull, entering near his ear as the point sticks out the other side of his head. Blood sprays out from the wound, splattering onto your tunic. The man crumples to the ground, falling in the direction of the arrow’s path. Dead.

Your gaze shoots to Seonghwa. He stands atop the rock, eyes wide as his gaze falls to the man on the ground. The man he killed. Horror is plastered across his own expression, as if realizing what he has done. Woo had once told you that Seonghwa has only ever wounded with his arrows. He’s never killed, not even beasts.

You worry he will crumble, just as you did after the mimic, just as you had the first time you’d taken the life of something. Instead Seonghwa swallows hard, a glazed look to his eyes as he gives you a nod, before removing another arrow from his quiver. You have a sense he’s also saving his pain for later.

San tugs you to the left, and your gaze is pulled away from Seonghwa and back to the battle before you. A man swings at you, and you push backwards against San to avoid the swipe. You worry it will cause San to tumble, but instead he sinks lower on knees, flattening his back. Using it for support, you fall back and into the air, giving the man in front of you a firm kick to the chest that sends him backwards, crashing into a few of the men behind him.

You grin. It’s satisfying, watching the men who took everything from you struggle.

And struggle they do indeed. You and San work as a tight-knit unit as Seonghwa picks off the stranglers with his arrows, as well as those attempting to crawl atop his residing stone. 

“By the gods,” you think. “We’re winning.”

However, if you are aware of this, so is the man leading the operation. 

You search for the commander amidst the swarm of black armour surrounding you, trying to pin-point his dark beard and aging face. He doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob. 

“Do you know where he went? The commander?” You ask San, yelling over the sound of battle cries and the screams of the wounded. San does not respond immediately, likely searching for him amidst the crowd. 

San lets out a sudden growl of annoyance. “He’s with Woo.”

You glance over your shoulder, seeing the commander next to the elemental. He stands behind Woo, lips drawn close to his ear, hand placed on the elemental’s shoulder. You cannot hear what the commander is saying to him, but you know that it is nothing good. 

Woo’s eyes are wide, the purple where the white’s of his eyes should be growing darker. Tears stream down his face and they are a matching colour, like drops of ink. You can see Woo whispering something, and while you cannot make out the words, the desperation on his face makes you believe that he is begging. Although what he is pleading for you do not know.

Fire surrounds them, leaking from Woo’s fingertips and onto the cavern floor. The flames run thick, the consistency of molten lava. You’ve never seen that from an elemental before, didn’t even know it was possible..

“We need to make our way over there,” you say while stabbing your sword into the arm of a black-clad soldier. You can feel San nod his head in affirmation.

Wrapping his free hand tighter around your waist, San pulls you with him, the two of you spinning through an opening within the mob. You nearly trip over something, and upon looking down you see that it is a body. His dead eyes look up at you. They are a light hazel.

You would vomit if there was anything solid in your stomach.

San pulls you past the man before you can stare at him for too long, before you can memorize the features of his face, before you can wonder if it was he or you who killed him.

So much death. So much needless death. You close your eyes, only for the briefest of moments, for the split of a second. You imagine you are the person you had been a mere month ago. The girl who let her baths be drawn from her, her clothes picked out and placed on her body by others. The girl who sulked when Mingi left for battle training, who’d never held a sword in her hands, let alone ran someone through with it.

You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again. 

San continues to pull you with him through the opening within the dark swarm, letting go of your waist as the two of you break through and sprint towards Woo.

The commander continues to whisper into the elemental’s ear, more molten lava dripping from Woo’s hands. It forms in pools on the cavern floor, slowly trailing down the parapet in a way that reminds you of the baby basilisks, like long thin glowing snakes.

It’s not until now that you realize what the commander is doing, as Woo grows more and more affected by his words, blood-vessel’s bursting in his eyes as red mixes itself into the purple. A mosaic of burning hues.

The commander knows that he is losing, which means he’s pulling out a last resort, willing to play his wild-card. He plans to use Woo as a weapon. He’ll do whatever it takes to take you out, even if that means his battalion goes down with you. Bastard.

The commander steps back from Woo, walking over to the top of the chain tied to one of the stone pillars. He will set Woo free, grant him full range of motion with his gift. After all, an elemental can only summon flame with movement, with the dancing of their fingers or full swing of their arms.

Only Woo is not your average elemental.

Before the commander can finish untying the first chain, Woo screams. It’s not as animalistic as his last, but far, far more broken. Fire flares out from around him, a massive wave of curling flames that tumbles in all directions, standing over ten feet tall.

You grab San’s wrist, yanking him with you as you dive behind the nearest rock. Face pressed to the ground, you do not see the fire as it stretches over top of you, but you can feel its heat along your back even through your tunic. Screams echo from all around, bouncing off of the cavern's walls, and you know that not everyone was so lucky.

Once the heat disappears, both you and San are quick to settle onto your knees, peering up over the rock. Woo’s head has fallen back down, shrouded in tangled black hair, chest heaving as he catches his breath. The commander, who had fallen to the ground behind him, rises to his feet.

You gasp.

While it appears he managed to find shelter before the flames completely engulfed him, he also did not make it out unscathed. The left half of his face burns a bright red colour, the skin bubbling with boils in a way resembles lumps of flour in unkneaded dough. His dark hair is gone on the affected side, both on his face and the top of his head, smoke billowing out from his disintegrated scalp.

With so much of his skin burned off, his eye nearly pops from his head, stark against his bright red skin. He looks undead, like a walking skeleton, the teeth on the left side of his mouth permanently visible due to his upper lip having been incinerated. His gums bleed, the red almost glowing against the whiteness of his teeth.

Your gut twists at the sight of him, and you have to look away.

Black-clad soldiers sit slumped around the cavern, broken moans leaving their lips as the fire was not enough to kill them all. The agony of their cries fills your ears, and although you fight against it tears sting your eyes. You know that these are bad men, men who killed your father and countless innocents in the castle, who ruined your life and want nothing more than to see your end.

But right now they are just men. They are just human, each one with their own life and story, and they are dying a slow and horrible death.

The blow to the back of your head stops you from becoming too absorbed in remorse.

It comes sharp and quick, carrying the heaviness of what you assume is a rock, and your vision momentarily sways. It doesn’t knock you out, but it does throw you off balance, giving the attacker enough time to seize your wrist. They give it a sharp twist, causing you to let out a whine of pain as your sword clatters to the ground.

The culprit drags you from behind, and you fight to remain on your feet. You shout to San, and while he twists to face you he is moment too late, as the person from behind shoves you away from them.

And into the arms of the commander.

The commander grins, his smile even more unsettling with his missing lip as he casts an appreciative nod to the young, brunette soldier who had grabbed you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, uncomfortably tight as he turns you to face away from him, chest pressed against your back.

With his spare hand he holds a knife to your throat.

“Enough of this,” the commander says. “Put your weapons down.”

The world around you stills as San comes to a halt, gaze sharp as his good eye flickers between you and the commander, analyzing the situation. He appears to come to no solution as he slowly retracts his sword back into its sheath.

However, not everyone follows his orders.

“Let her go.”

Seonghwa no longer resides atop the rock, likely having dived behind it to avoid the flames. Now on the ground, he stands roughly twenty feet ahead of you, his bow up and arrow drawn.

“What an awful accent,” the man laughs, and his voice sounds more manic now that he is on the verge of defeat. Of death. His cheek presses to yours, and you can feel his spittle against your skin, smell the rotten tang of his breath. “Like a Mainlander that swallowed his tongue.”

Seonghwa’s frown deepens, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulls the bow taught.

“You let that arrow fly and we both go down with it, boy,” the commander warns, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Such an awful smile. “Choose wisely.”

For a moment you don’t understand what he means, but realization sinks like a stone in your gut. The ravine resides behind you, hundreds of feet deep, the belly of a monster whose darkness would swallow you whole. 

“Take your mutt and leave,” the man says to San, nodding towards Woo, who has returned to his slumped position, skin glistening with sweat as his arms tremble.

“So you can kill her as soon as we’re gone?” San bites back, tone venomous. “I don’t think so.”

“I promise to make it quick and painless,” the man says softly, before pressing the knife into your neck. Not deep, but enough to make you gasp in pain. “Otherwise I can make it very, very slow.”

Seonghwa’s hands grip tighter around the bow, San’s expression settling into a snarl of fury. However, neither of them move. If San moves to attack him, he’ll simply slice your throat. If Seonghwa fires the arrow, you’ll plummet with him. You try to reach Minho’s elixir in your pocket, but cannot manage it. Besides, even if you did manage to grasp it, there’s no way the commander would let you go long enough to down the liquid.

He has you cornered, and you all know it. 

Well, that is except for one of you. You turn to Woo.

The elemental does not look at you as you speak. “Woo,” you call, the knife sharp against your throat as it bobs. “Can you hear me?”

“No, he can’t hear you.” The commander whispers into your ear, and you can feel the hollowness of his cheek as he speaks, the rough and ruined texture of his skin.  “Or maybe he can, but who knows how much of him is even left in there.”

“Woo,” you call again, ignoring him, even as his words send a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me. It’s us, we’re all here. San, Seonghwa and I. We’re all here.”

Woo twitches at this, although he still does not lift his head. You hear him murmuring something beneath his breath, and it’s a moment until you can register what he is saying.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, voice shaky and blubbered. “You’re not real.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t know what you’re seeing or hearing or what’s going on, but I need you to lift your head.”

He doesn’t respond and you try again. “Please, Woo. Please, just lift your head for me.”

It takes a moment, but shakily, he does. His hair falls in dark matted clumps over his blood-shot, purple-stained eyes. His pupils still do not focus on you, a distant vacantness to the broken expression across his tear-stained face.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and it is a hoarse, beaten plea. “Please, please just stop. Let me die. Don’t bring me back. Please. I deserve it.”

Your heart twists at hearing Woo - confident, self-assured, unbreakable Woo - say something so self-demoralizing.

However, it’s with these words, these broken claims that he deserves it, that you have an idea of what horrors he may be seeing before him.

“Wooyoung,” you say, and you notice as Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion at the name, San raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it's the first time they’ve heard it. “Wooyoung do you remember our conversation by the fire?”

“Please just stop,” he whispers, shaking his head as more of the molten lava begins to leak from his hands.You don’t even know if he’s still listening, but this is your last shot, so you push on.

“You told me that you knew you should regret what you did to the wardens, that it should eat you up inside. But it didn’t, because they deserved it.”

Tears continue to stream down Woo’s face, which is contorted in a pained, agonizing expression. However, as he does not deny your words or continue his broken mumbling, you take his silence as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what I’ve done, and I don’t think I ever will,” you continue, and you know both San and Seonghwa are watching you as you can feel the heaviness of their gazes. The confused curiosity mixed with desperation that swirls within them, staring intently. Yet, you ignore them. You ignore the commander and the knife at your throat, the wails of agony in the air and the thick stench of burnt flesh.

Right now it is just you and the broken elemental before you. You and Woo.

“But that’s the difference between us,” you say, swallowing hard. “I chose to harm people that never deserved it.”

“Enough of this,” the commander says through gritted teeth, pressing the knife harder against your neck. Choking down the increasing pain, you ignore him.

“And you never deserved it Woo, any of it. Any of what Warden did to you, any of my father’s cruelty, any of my lies. None of it was ever deserved.”

Woo’s breathing begins to escalate, but this time it is not as if he’s having trouble taking in air, it’s as if he has realized that he finally can.

“Enough,” the commander says again, with more anger in his voice as he appears to come to the same realization about Woo as you do.

“You’re there,” Woo whispers. His gaze is still lost and distant, his limbs still trembling and words blubbered with misery and fear. But there is also something more. Something powerful.

“We’re here,” you say back, relief blossoming in your chest. Even as the commander twists the back of your wrist and you let out a cry of pain, you’re filled with an undeniable, unbridled sense of hope.

“We need your help, Wooyoung,” you say, and the elemental swallows hard in response.

“I can’t,” he says, voice a quiet breath as he shakes his head in denial.

“You can,” you say, tone firm. You have him, even if only for a moment, and you will not let yourself lose him again. “You’ve done it before.”

Wooyoung stops shaking his head as he realizes what you are suggesting.

“Stop this!” the commander says, and now he’s shouting. He means it as a demand, as a threat, but it sounds instead an awful lot like a plea.

“You can do it, Wooyoung,” you say, the softness leaving your voice and replacing itself with a hardened encouragement. You will not yield.

“How do you know?” He asks, and even though his voice shakes, its weakness has fallen away.

A grin spreads across your lips. Even with the knife to your throat, the burnt bodies around, and the commander rotting breath hot against your skin, you smile.

You smile because you know you’ve won.

“Because, Wooyoung,” you say. “He deserves it.”

You can feel the commander’s grip around the knife clench, his elbow brought higher as he prepares himself to slice it clean across your throat.

“I said enough-” 

A blast of heat ignites from behind you, burning hot along your back, and you instinctively push forward. The commander's grip loosens without protest, the knife within his hand falling to the ground, clattering against the cavern’s rocky floor. A strong stench floods your senses, the same horrid and sickening scent that had previously hung around the cavern, only now increased ten-fold.

You twist around, putting yourself face-to-face with the commander, who’s entire body is engulfed in flame.

His screams leave him like waves crashing along the shoreline, powerful and ominous amidst their build-up but shattered and broken upon their downfall. The fire spreads across his body in a way that is almost unnatural, hugging close to his flesh as it eats away at his skin, a vicious parasite devouring him whole. He stumbles, and you cannot make out his expression, his face covered in the burning orange glow. Perhaps it is better that way.

He reaches forward blindly, his flame-covered hands extended outwards as he searches for your body. Even in death, he seeks to take you with him. Find his glory, his vengeance, even if it’s accompanied by his final breath.

And yet, even with all he has done to you, Woo, and your family, you grant the commander one final mercy. 

A quick death.

Reaching forward, you place your palms flat against his chest, giving him a firm push. It burns your hands, although only for a moment, as he stumbles backwards. His foot catches on one of the pegs tied together with rope before the cliff, sending him tumbling backwards. Time appears to stand still for a moment, an eternity slipping by as he hangs in the air, a ball of glowing flame suspended above the ravine’s gaping mouth.

He falls, the glow like a spark slowly diminishing, until it disappears entirely. You do not hear him crash against what lays beyond the darkness.

There’s a moment of silence that follows as you stare over the ravine’s edge. You half-expect the commander to fly back upwards, to catch you in a moment of weakness, suddenly equipped with new fire abilities of his own.

He does not. There is only darkness.

You turn back around. Both San and Seonghwa stare at you, both of their expressions difficult to place. Mouths parted slightly and eyes wide, they appear to be in disbelief. Awe, even. You imagine your face looks the same.

Woo sits with head hung over, eyes closed. For a moment you fear he is dead, but from the shaky rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is merely unconscious. 

There is the sound of footsteps as the few black-clad men left unscathed flee down the cave’s passage-way, leaving you behind. 

“Well,” San whispers, his good eye drifting from you, to Seonghwa, to the scattered bodies around you, before finally settling on Woo. He laughs, shaky and unsure, but at the same time so, so sincere. “Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter coming soon.

thank you for reading! feel free to come chat with me about any thoughts you may have, feedback is the one thing that keeps me going tbh. also, if you’re bored in the meantime, here are both my ateez and skz masterlists for your convenience. i hope to see you around :3

[surshica]

NINTENDO SWITCH !

TWENTY-FIVE : fucking finally

masterlist <3

A/N : thank you for supporting this series everyone! it truly has been such a great experience—the feedback everyone has given me for the story made me so happy:( please do check out the new series of mine “she knows” and “glamorous”

borders will indicate when it’s time to read the written portion!! + please excuse anything grammatically incorrect and any typos !!

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a wave if nervousness was not what you needed at the moment. he told you to get ready and you didnt know if you should wear a skirt or heck even a dress. the weather was nice out so you pulled out a cream white cottagecore dress that had been stored in your closet for some time.

the ends of your hair were curled slightly—half up half down how you liked it. a light makeup was what was decided on since you didn’t want to do too much but again it was for chishiya, putting in some ankle pink socks and your mary janes you gave yourself a small twirl near the mirror; a smile was imposed on your lips.

“you are in a good mood.” a sweet rasped voice echoed from your room, turning your head you saw chishiya. “yeah..there is something about you asking out on a date that makes me in a good mood” you laughed walking near the hands in pocket man. he took one of his hands out his pocket holding it out for yours; he was never one to be very affectionate through words but rather through actions

your smile grew wider, taking his hand as he stuffed both yours and his in his pocket; this was his way of saying you looked beautiful. he stared at you for a few minutes in awe. the way your bangs curled around your face, the way the glosses your lips, the way the dress made you look like a princess—made him even more in love with you.

“ready to go?” he asked placing a kiss on the crown of your head, giving him a simple nodded was all that was needed. “alright. lets go then.” he started walking towards the door to leave the dorm, his hands still intertwined with his. the grip around it tightened slightly.

“mira we are leaving!!” chishiya spoke loudly so mira whom was doing her skin care could hear. “OKAY MAKE SURE SHE IS BACK BY 12 AM SHUNTARO. DONT HURT HER FUCKING FEELINGS OR YOU CAN KISS THAT DICK OF YOURS GOODBYE.” mira warned earning a slightly giggle from chishiya. “yeah yeah whatever” he said before opening the door for the both of you to leave.

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usually you could just walk around to the nearest destination in japan but you ended up in a car being a passenger princess. not that you mind it was kinda cute. chishiya was the driver for today, you would’ve fully expected him to let go of your hand so he could drive but NO.

he is driving with one hand while the other was wrapped in the warmth of yours. it made you blush slightly at the sight of chishiya driving with one hand, “where are we going?” you questioned staring at his features—it was very relaxed and it made him have an even softer look. “well you wanted that pochacco plushie correct?” he looked over at you quickly before looking back to the road, you nodded. “well we are going to go get that plushie.”

your eyes widened slightly, “i can always get that plushie a different day I DONT THINK THAT IS IMPORTANT.” you tightened the grip between yours and his hands, he simply shook his head “it is very important since you wanted it.” his tone was stern yet it was a soft stern; it threw you off guard, sighing knowing you couldnt win sn agrument with him. “i’ll pay you back.” you huffed

he chuckled with a small grin appearing on his lips, he pulled your intertwined hands to his lips; placing a small kiss on your hand leaving his lips on your hand for a while before resting it back onto your lap. “no need too you already have.” those words leaving his mouth made you blush, all the little things he says or does is enough for you to melt like chocolate.

you hadn’t realized how much time passed until he pulled up into a buildings parking lot. turning off the car he hesitatingly pulled his hands away from your warm ones, unbuckling his seatbelt; “ready to go look for that plushie?” he smiled at you. bitting your lip you nodded getting out the car.

he walked over to your side grabbing back onto your hand. it was like you were a little kid again getting a toy afterschool, no words were exchanged but you led chishiya to the place where the pochacco plushie was being sold. as soon as you two arrived there, it was gone. someone took the last one in front of you two.

a frown had graced your lips, “ah..maybe next time” you made your voice cheery so you wouldnt worry him but chishiya saw right through you. unlinking his hands from yours he smiled at you slightly, “im going to go to the bathroom i’ll be back.” he lied before walking off. the real truth chishiya had gone as far as to hunting someone who had the plushie and bargain for it.

you sighed wondering around the store trying to see if there could be another pochacco plushie bug there wasnt, it was just pins that you already had. closing your eyes exhaling deeply, some time passed at you were yet to find chishiya. well its been like 5 minutes but those were the longest 5 minutes of your life. a gentle tap was felt on your shoulder turning around to see chishiya with the pochacco plushie?

“chishiya..how’d you get it?” you placed your hands on the big pochacco plush, “well someone had put it back on the shelf near the bathroom and i grabbed it.” he lied, he didnt want her to know the full truth of him bargaining someone damn near $50 dollars for it.

“this is the one correct?” he asked fluffing it up even though it was in a plastic wrapping. you nodded frantically, “alright lets go pay for this then!” he smirked walking over to go pay. “i can pay for it chishiya its no problem” you tried to reassure him but he just turned it down. “how about i save it for another time” the smirk grew evident as he walked away to the open register paying for it.

“i seriously do not know what is going through your mind sometimes chishi.” you sighed as he handed you for the paid for plushie. “good, that means you dont know what could happen next” he snaked his arm around your waist catching you surpised. his cold cat eyes were soft and loving whenever he looked at you it made you feel so warm and fluffy.

“is there anything else you want from the mall?” he asker you, you made a thinking face trying to see if you needed anything but you ended up just shaking your head. “well then there is somewhere else i want to take you.” he said walking back to the car, “should i dressed nicer? i feel spoiled.” your lips formed a thin a line looking at him. he shook his head “you look perfect. no need to dress nicer.”

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and back in the car the two of you were, pochacco in the back, hands intertwined together. if the two of you weren’t cuddling your hands were. the ride seemed to be longer, but gradually the view got nicer and nicer; causing you to suspicious.

“you know if this doesnt work out im going to be embarrassed.” he chuckled causing you to look at him confused. “im sure whatever you do will work out” you smiled at him, “yeah im sure too.”

the two had arrived at the destination and it was beautiful. there was hardly anyone here, it was perfect. you quickly got out of the car to get a better view, breathtaking. chishiya chuckled popping the trunk of the car open to get a full picnic basket and a blanket closing it after he got all he needed he headed over to the breathe-taken yn.

“do you like it?” he stood near the starry eyed girl, “thats such a stupid question. i fucking love it here.” her lips were agaped shoulders comfortably dropped to the side, he let out a laugh. it was a genuine one—“well come on. we dont have all day do we?” he started walking to an open spot that wes close to the pond, that was when you realized he had a basket and a blanket in his hands.

following from behind, you had your hands behind your back a smile like grin was formed on your lips, “a picnic? the chishiya doing a picnic?” you teased him as he set down the blanket, taking off his shoes sitting down on it. “hmm would you like a karaoke date instead?” he jokingly snarked back, a smile grew wider on your face before taking your shoes sitting across from him.

“no this is perfect” a soft kiss was placed on his cheek, you watched as he took out various dishes from the basket; from drinks to sandwhiches to cute desserts, “wait did usagi make these desserts?” you pointed at the bento strawberry shortcake that was decorated cutely. “how’d you know” he chuckled lightly looking at you. “i dont know lucky guess maybe..” your smile widened looking at all the food.

he handed you one of the sandwiches that was packed with fresh veggies and cooked meat, the aroma of the sandwich had a sweet yet tangy scent to it. taking a bite out of it was heavenly, covering your mouth “delicious..” you mumbled causing chishiya to laugh at you. he had taken a bite out of his sandwich but really he was watching you enjoy the food.

small convos of different topics kept you and chishiya busy in your own worlds, you had completely forgotten a about the cake usagi made the two of you. “omg wait, we should eat the cake!” you exclaimed happily, chishiya nodded taking out spoons for the cake—he scooped a piece of the cake. yn opened her mouth slightly wanting that piece, chishiya put it close to her mouth turning it around last minute eating the cake.

a grin formed on his lips causing yn to huff at him, “WOWWWW. okay i see how it is.” yn rolled her eyes jokingly, “okay okay here” chishiya got another scoop if the cake feeding it to her. “thats yummy..” she smiled brightly. the two ended up eating all the cake with some frosting smudging on the their faces.

“you have a little something near your lip” he said cupping your face with one of his hands while the other sipped off the frosting with his thumb. yours and his face were so close to eachothers, a sly smirk. he placed a kiss your cupids brow, pulling away quickly before you can react, a wave of peach red blush washed across your face.

“youre such a tease” you said covering your face in embarrassment; his grin only grew wider looking at the blushing girl. “does this come by a surpise?” he said snaking his hand over to hers holding it. “it shouldn’t.”

“you know yn. im not really good at expressing my feelings..” chishiya looked you dead in the eyes not breaking contact once, you slowly nodded. “i kinda regret that ive not been the best with my feelings.” he laughed pulling out a white and blue rose crochet bouquet, “but i finally realized something~” chishiya was nervous even if he still had the poker faced expression—“what im trying to say is i love you.” he said handing you the bouquet of crochet flowers.

a flush of blush was all across your face, “..god im not good at this whole confession but what im trying to say—” chishiya got cut off by yn hugging him tightly. “shut up and my answer is yes.” yn giggled pressing her lips againts his; a smile formed on his lips. his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her ontop of him.

“i shouldn’t of made you wait this long, im surpised you didnt move on” chishiya laughed breaking off the kiss. “i had a feeling it would happen soon. im glad i decided to wait.” yn smiled pulling him back into a kiss.

﹙ᴗ﹏ᴗ﹚･｡ ⁺ ✦

THE END.

tags !!

pink doesnt work

@crinklypink @flrtsbin @4pparecium @afckingswiftiebtch @em-asian @saiewithakatana @minyoungieee @eternal-gf @kimtaehussy @theinfaethablefig @elakari @too-many-fandoms666 @lastheavcns @pyrrhicgaze @andreeasancheez @hadesdaughtwr @Iserluver @urgodmoon @nmsl0v3r @lowilaufeyson @dee-dino-man @chiishiiya @444neapolitain @wroophruh @vensworld @starsval @dr3amscap3 @kuinaheartz @bre99 @cheshireshiya @eissaaaa @sollum @conny1111 @luvelyxp @shinobuily @gelliyo @fanfangying1304 @ikon-teen @stay-moa-army @bbyjackie @naegisimp @midlystupid @yvrikoo @chepoyo @luv4kuina @vernon-dursley @itadorim @vseqvt @shigamiryuk @wonswoorld @elisiumnie @abyloxk @asoullessentity @seventeensstrawberry @cupidsaster @bubblycloudy