#taekwoon fanfiction

[biasedwriting]

the finest gossamer [VIXX, Leo] M

Characters : VIXX's Leo / OC

Regency! AU

Rating : M for smut

Plot summary - Taekwoon spends an afternoon with his wife in the sunroom.

It was a relatively peaceful afternoon, Taekwoon mused, watching Minah patter about the sunroom, sealing a letter to Haneul, who was now touring the highlands with Wonshik. The room was a little one with a teak writing desk overflowing with papers - letters, he assumed, knowing his wife’s propensity for words both written and spoken (which both vexed and delighted him no end). He eyed his wife blowing out the candle on her desk before stacking the carefully sealed letters into the pigeon-hole cubby above the table. He smiled, amused by her ink-stained fingers and the grumbling that followed as she dabbed at her fingertips with an equally stained handkerchief.

Leaning against the door frame, the man crossed his arms. Despite how busy his viscountcy made him, he tried not to miss out on the domesticity of these moments. To him, Minah was a wonder to be beheld in her natural habitat, in complete comfort with her surroundings. Which was exactly why he found himself hurrying home after a session at the parliament to gaze at his wife. He bit his lip to hold back the laughter that bubbled up his throat when she began humming, floating over to the window to fix the sunflowers held in a pale blue porcelain vase before gently unlatching the windows to allow some air in.

Taekwoon took a silent step into the little sunroom of his house in the capital. Decorated to the tastes of the lady so lost in her thoughts by the window, he couldn’t help but feel surrounded by her presence in the room. From the bookshelf in the corner overflowing with titles she enjoyed (and he enjoyed gifting her with) to the little portrait of the two of them perched on the mantle, or the small turtle-shaped paperweights she had bought on a whim and vehemently placed on the table by the deep green high backed chair he was standing by, the sunroom was secretly Taekwoon’s favourite place in the house because it just was, Minah.

The summer sun streamed through the translucent curtains illuminating his wife’s body draped in the finest muslin he could adorn her in. The rays caressed her face illuminating the lighter shades of brown in the soft ringlets of her hair kissing the tops of her collarbones. Her deep lashes threw shadows on her rounded cheeks that he loved pressing his lips against. Her countenance was blank and blissful in the sunlight as the summer breeze wound its way into the room. The man's eyes roved over her face with delight before his throat went dry at the sight of the thin muslin barely concealing the pebbled buds of her …

“Taekwoon!” A gasp broke his reverie as she spun around, finally aware of his gaze “How long have you been waiting there?” She asked, crossing her arms, immediately obscuring his vision while she hurried to the lace shawl thrown on over the back of her chair to wrap it around her shoulders.

“Not too long,” her husband mused, frowning at the offending piece of cloth as she rang the bell to call for tea before ushering him to the high-backed chair.

“I know you said you'd be back for tea, but Haneul had written such an exciting letter I just couldn't wait to write back and then I completely lost track of time! ” She began pacing around the room, ears red as her husband watched with an amused smile. “She said I'd love the cattle in the highlands, darling large coos! Oh, where is Jeffery?” Minah wondered out loud only to have the stately servant hurry in with the tea service. “Fantastic! Dearest, Haneul sent us shortbread along with her letter, I made sure Jeffery would bring some with tea” Minah continued while Jeffery set the service on the little table before Taekwoon raised his hand to wave the man away.

“That will be all, Jeffery, ensure we're not disturbed,” he said before turning back to his wife who frowned in confusion. The servant left the room, closing the door behind him and Minah reached for the kettle to pour out the tea cautiously.

“Is everything alright?” 

Taekwoon received the cup and saucer from her, eyeing her struggle to keep the shawl on her shoulders. Taking a deep sip, secretly scalding himself, he turned to set down the cup and reach across and yank the foolish fabric out of her grasp. 

“Yes, everything is fine,” he hummed as she tried to reach for the shawl again only to have it held far away from her. The more she leaned forward, the greater Taekwoon's delight grew as he stared unabashedly at his wife's unadorned skin which he knew from experience would feel like cream in his palms.

“Give it back!” She huffed, now getting to her feet and stepping closer to him, unaware of the trap her husband was setting for her. “You're vexing me Lord Jung Taekwoon!”

“Oh? Is that so?” He chuckled, holding the shawl behind his back and quickly grabbing her wrist as she reached for it, tugging her onto his lap. Her foot hit the little table between the two high-backed chairs making the tea service rattle.

“I honestly thought something had happened during the parliamentary session, now I see Viscount Jung Taekwoon wants to play games,” Minah grumbled, still trying to reach for her shawl “Now unhand my shawl or the tea will get cold.”

“What if I say no?” Taekwoon replied, tucking the silly fabric firmly behind his back while his other hand went to support his wife's derriere, giving it a quick squeeze.

“You're being naughty,” she glared at the taller man, tugging at his deep brown coat. 

“That I am,” he said, eyes fixed on her flushed skin, beaded buds now taught against the thin muslin, all he had to do was lean forward and…

Teeth sunk into his right earlobe gently as Minah gave it a quick nibble, sending blood rushing to his breeches. Minah quickly tried to retrieve her shawl which was firmly wedged between the back of the chair and her husband's broad back only to have him grasp at her jaw and fix his eyes on hers. She shivered, noticing his dilated pupils as he leaned up to join their lips. Remembering her initial mission, she turned her head away to look for the shawl only to feel his long fingers slip up to cup the back of her neck and guide her lips to his for a gentle kiss. 

“Open your mouth, darling,” he whispered against her lips, pulling her firmly over his lap by the derriere making her gasp, feeling his need for her. Sliding his tongue past her parted lips he savoured her like a delicacy, now feeling her ink-stained fingers sliding into the strands of his hair making him grunt as he chased after her lips before breathlessly trailing kisses down her throat as soft whimpered breaths gurgled past her swollen lips. 

Minah grasped firmly onto her husband's broad shoulders, the lace shawl long forgotten in his onslaught. Taekwoon's long graceful fingers slid the thin gown up her calves, pausing to fiddle with the garters holding her whisper-thin stockings to her body. She giggled at how ticklish it felt at first but threw her head back with a hiss when his lips surrounded her clothed nipple. 

“Ah, Taekwoon,” she whimpered into his hair as his fingers pianoed across her thighs caressing the skin 

“You're so soft, my love,” he mumbled against the now wet fabric before turning to the other achingly painful nipple awaiting his attention. His fingers played a wicked tune on the wet thatch of hair between her thighs as she gasped at the sensation of his index finger sliding over a throbbing bud of nerves over and over again till she gazed at him pleadingly with her mouth open and no words.

“What's that?” He hummed, speeding up his pace as his middle finger joined in to thoroughly stimulate her. 

She finally let out a moan of his name, gripping at the shirt under his coat, nearly ripping it wide open. Slumping forward, she leaned on his shoulders and breathed out his name, pressing open-mouthed kisses beneath it in a way that had the little string of sanity holding him together snap. 

Then he sank two of his fingers into her and set a quick rhythm that had her jolting pawing at the cravat and undoing his buttons to splay her fingers across his chest feeling his heart thud beneath her palm. Every touch had her hips moving frantically on his two fingers, pressing against the swelling bulge in her husband's breeches. She reached down to undo his bottoms grabbing at the now erect, throbbing organ with both hands making him rest his forehead against her chest with a groan.

“Minah,” he exhaled, curving his fingers within her making her squeeze around them as her hands came to a halt. She fixed her glazed-over eyes on her handsome husband, before reaching to tug his wrist away from her sopping core. There was a fire in her eyes that made Taekwoon feel like a man parched as he leaned up to tangle his tongue with hers. Her grip returned to his erection, firmly stroking till he moaned into her hungry lips.. Gently positioning her hips over his desire, she carefully lowered herself onto him and he scrambled to grasp her buttocks to support her ever-tightening descent. 

“Minah, please,” he whispered groaning when she rolled her hips.

“You started this Taekwoon,” she hissed, gripping at the lapels of his very crumpled shirt.  He eyed her as she lifted her hips and dropped them, tightening on her way down. Her gown was now clinging to her body with the sweat of her exertion as she frowned, scrabbling to rip the offending garment over the head and tossing it to the ground before moving in earnest while Taekwoon could only watch the majesty of his wife's form in the summer sunshine. Groaning, he gripped her hips thrusting up and watching her head fall back in pleasure. When his wife whined, rocking her hips to take him in deeper, he couldn’t help but oblige by picking up the pace till she shook above him, scrabbling at his chest, leaving streaks of red with her blunt nails. Panting at how impossibly tight she was getting around him, Taekwoon laced his fingers with hers thrusting up powerfully, emptying into her and keeping the pace till she spasmed along with him.

Pulling her towards his chest, he held his wife’s naked form, caressing her side as she took deep gasping breaths. 

“You’re a wicked wicked man,” she mumbled against his now sweaty chest. Taekwoon looked down and tipped her head up to capture her lips in another chaste kiss.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Celestial (I)

Author: kpopfanfictrash, moodboard by @m00nk1ld (AN ACTUAL STAR. IT WORKS SO PERFECTLY)

Pairing: You / Hongbin / Taekwoon

Rating: PG-13 

Genre: Fantasy, Space Opera!AU / Royalty!AU

Word Count: 9,017

Description: In a distant galaxy stand six planets which together, form the Coalition. Furthest from the sun is Tenebris, a planet harboring 90% of the Coalition’s feared energy source. Tenebris is a brutal regime led by their shadowy leader, Hongbin. You are born to Exercitus, the warrior planet and serve as a spy in Taekwoon’s army. Your first mission is to pose as a translator to Tenebris, gathering information on Hongbin and his planet in order to return to Taekwoon. Once you arrive though, you find that neither planet nor ruler are what they seem.

The sun has not yet risen when you wake for the day.

The night is still cold, the air damp as you slip from your bed. Glancing behind you, there are two bodies still asleep under the covers. The sight offers a twinge of regret before you tie your robes tighter, walking into your bathroom. The alcove remains quiet, save for the sound of your own breathing and movement. It’s quiet here, squeezing paste from the tube to remove the scent of morning from breath. Nothing here to disturb you – nothing but your errant mind, thoughts and ideas you’ve long given up trying to silence.

Brushing harder, you attempt to scrub away all thoughts of last night. Lately, everything you do is unsatisfying; you’re uncertain when the life you lead ceased to be enough. Every solider on Exercitus knows their place – you are born, you are raised to understand strength, power, discipline. This is the Creed, the core of Exercitian society which is handed down by its Commander, Taekwoon. Taekwoon oversees the entire planet of Exercitus, serving as both head of the military and state – though here, these two are one and the same.

Exercitus, might of the solar system. The strength of the Coalition. The Coalition is the formal name for the solar system – six planets which orbit the sun, Rhea. Doctrine is the planet of learning and knowledge; Exercitus, the planet of military and discipline; Judicium, the planet of law and judgement; Pecunia, the planet of merchants and gold; Sollertia, the planet of art and creation; and Tenebris, the planet of shadow and power. All six form the Coalition, to which Exercitus belongs.

The other planets do not fight though, they exist solely to produce their specialties. You are the warrior breed, the one which leads in times of strife and battle. Other planets weigh in on certain aspects – like Doctrine, assisting in battle strategy, but largely, Exercitus remains on its own. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you wipe all traces of emotion clean from your face.

Looks aren’t something to care about, here. You’ve never considered yourself attractive, not in the common sense of the word. It’s more useful to be strong on Exercitus than pretty. Pretty fades, pretty ends when pretty is punched in the face – this is a lesson your mother taught you, so many years ago. It’s been a long time since you lived with your family, though this is not unusual for children of Exercitus. Children are taken from their homes on their sixth birthday – six, representing the six planets of the Coalition – and are placed into training, replacing their homes.

Most don’t remember their mothers or fathers, but you do. Exercitians aren’t exactly sentimental, but you remember your home with something close rto fondness. You were sung to sleep every night, which is outside the norm for your people. Your mother sang to you gently, in languages other than your own and you remember this still, in the back of your mind. You know this is uncommon, because the one time you mentioned it, the one time you spoke of this outside the your home – you were laughed at, mocked by your classmates until you punched their pretty faces and proved the lesson firsthand.

You haven’t talked about it since – not since your strength, your fists made that boy shut his mouth. At least that’s one thing about Exercitus. In the ranks of the military, there is little room for gender discrimination – it’s something unheard of, told only in tales from travelers to planets like Sollertia, Pecunia. Everyone on Exercitus is considered equal, everyone given opportunities according to size and weight. Nothing else matters when defending the ranks of the Coalition.

This leads to gender and sexuality being somewhat fluid. Right now there’s both man and woman in your bed, remnants of the night prior and you exhale, spitting hard at the sink. Rising your mouth, you try not to think about what comes next. It’s nice to fulfill your bodily desires but sometimes, you wish you enjoyed the person beside you when you woke up. This thought is a strange one – blasphemous, for most people your age.

There are no real families on Exercitus, not in the traditional sense of the word. Not like other planets, where children remain attached to their mothers and fathers like umbilical cords, never fully leaving or breaking that tie. No – on Exercitus, the Creed comes first. The Coalition comes first. Exercitians are tools, weapons and love only gets in the way. At age eighteen, you enter the Military after twelve years of training. You leave the Military only once, at age twenty-five – which is when you work half-time for six years and raise a family. Offspring are raised until handed over for training, and then their parents return to being instruments of war.

It’s a strange concept, wanting more. Exercitians don’t want more, Exercitians don’t need more because they’re the execution itself: the enforcers of planets, protectors of systems. You are the ones who keep everyone else safe, who allow growth to the colonies. It is other planets, innovating and changing and creating. Not Exercitians, not you. This thought grows bitter the longer you think about it, wiping the back of your mouth of one hand.

Twisting your hair into a bun, you tilt your chin up to look at yourself in the mirror. If you turn at the right angle, you could almost imagine yourself to be pretty. Shame creeps in at the thought, a sinking tendril of doubt snaking deep through your stomach. You are Exercitian, which means you are strong. Strong, is better than pretty. It is with this, you exit the room.

Your bedroom remains quiet, though you find you are no longer the only one awake. The woman – Lily, if you remember correctly – is already up, searching for her clothes on the other side of the bed. “Oh,” she starts, looking up in surprise. “You’re already awake.”

Arching a brow, you look towards your bed. “Would’ve been weird, if I’d just left my own quarters and slept in the hall.”

Lilly flushes, then nods. “Yes, true. Apologies, Centurion.”

Blinking at the name, you’re still not sure how to acknowledge the title. It feels strange, hearing the word directed your way and you end up simply nodding at the door. Lily turns to leave, pulling her shirt overhead – she leaves you alone, staring at the remaining man in your bed. You don’t remember his name, nor do you have any particular inclination to ask. He was fine, not as good with his tongue as Lilly, though his hips had more than acceptable rhythm in the places which counted. Deciding you don’t care to wake him up, you cross over to your closet. Pulling on the midnight-black clothing marking your rank, you stare at the silver stitching on the seams, the dark Insignia emblazoned over the front to proclaim your rank as Centurion.

The youngest Centurion in over four-score. Buttoning the final button and adjusting the material, you can’t help but feel disconnected to the title. It’s hard not to, since you don’t feel particularly authoritative. It was luck, all luck, which brought you the rank. Each time you’ve served in battle – three times, total – the act has been horrid. Fields filled with rank, foul odor of sweat and blood – screams which rip the air, filling the night with needless shattering of bones and of dreams. Each time you’ve gone has been nightmarish, and you’ve found little glory in those small pieces of hell.

The Coalition is at peace, but this doesn’t mean there aren’t occasional disturbances. Such events total two of your battles – the third though, the most recent, was one which occurred against a neighboring Galaxy. One threatening an outpost of the Coalition, promising to kill its inhabitants – until the Military flew in, your Legion and others, to protect the voices of those who couldn’t. It was in this battle, you earned your Insignia. It was a risky day, you were ill-prepared for it and a certain maneuver by your Cohort was received entirely wrong.

Your ranks were scattered, broken – while you retreated, you saw the Prime, lying dazed on the field. A Prime is the rank who commands a Legion – and in between a Prime and a soldier, what you were at the time, there are at least four different levels of command. You saved him anyways, dragging him back through no-man’s land to safety. As a reward for this bravery, you were given the rank of Centurion.

Fingers sliding over the heavy metal, you look down at the weight. It’s still strange, to hear yourself called Centurion. To know that you’re responsible for the lives of one hundred men and women. It’s strange still, to look at they who were once your peers, to have them look back in a mixed combination of fear and respect. You are the authority now, no longer the soldier.

In your bed, the man gently stirs and upon hearing this you leave, exiting quick into the hall. You straighten your clothes as you walk, knowing the man can see himself out when he wakes. This time of morning, Barracks is mostly deserted. Only a few early risers wander the halls, though most will wake within the hour. The life of a soldier on Exercitus is simple: wake, eat, train, eat, train, eat and sleep.

From a young age, you’re taught that everything around you is a weapon – even you, you are the most dangerous weapon of all. As a solider, you are utterly unpredictable. It’s this unpredictability which gives you the edge, which causes the Military to be powerful and enables the Coalition to thrive, for thousands and thousands of millennia.

Buckling your belt, you walk into the mess hall. Barracks is one of eight hundred Citadels on Exercitus. Citadels are cities, but only in the loosest form of the word. From the moment you’re born, citizens of Exercitus are raised together. You’re raised together, eat together, sleep together and live together. It creates this sort of hive mind, which becomes helpful in battle. It’s easier, to know the person beside you as well as yourself, it helps to know there are no surprises when you move to attack.

Add this to the list of reasons, why your newfound rank is strange. You’ve known the soldiers you lead since you were six, have known them since being brought from your mother’s home and taught to fight. To know you’re above them – this thought gives you pause, since though your rank is technically higher, there are still those who fail to respect your authority.

You know they don’t, though they won’t dare say so out loud. You know this by the hate in their eyes the bile to their words – you know that when they answer, “Yes,” they truly don’t mean it. When they wish you, “Fast sleep,” you know they hope you lie awake. And you do, on most nights. It’s hard to fall asleep, hard to succeed when the entire word roots for you to fail. Though you suppose this is fitting, since mostly you feel the same about the world.

Slamming your tray down to the table, you slowly lower yourself into a seat. It’s easier to eat alone, since words are distracting and take effort to compile. Not that any of your fellow Centurions could be called conversational, even on a good day. Most discussion in Barracks revolves around weapons, various training techniques, and whichever planet in the galaxy you might care to fight next. You have nothing to add to any of these subjects, so you eat your oatmeal in silence.

The main purpose of eating is stamina, so you chew harder and swallow a large gulp of your water. The only reason you’ve achieved so much, so fast, is due to hard work. You work twice as hard as everyone else, put in twice the amount of effort – it’s something your mother instilled in you, when you were a child. To work hard, keep your head down, and protect the Coalition.

“Hey.”

Glancing over, you spot an unfamiliar male. His face is unknown – though this is not unusual. Barracks alone, houses over eighty million people. An unfamiliar Centurion face, is just another drop in the bucket. You meet his gaze head-on, letting your stare rake his body. Tall, fair-skinned, a face you can’t help but want to punch. Most Exercitians don’t have a wide range of emotion, but the look on this guy’s face is clear condescendence. He thinks he’s better, without saying a word.

You continue to eat, shoving another spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth.

He cocks his head, as though displeased by your silence. “Hey,” he repeats, down his rather-long nose, “I was talking to you, newbie.”

Continuing to chew, you don’t swallow before adding, “And?”

Between the two of you are a man and a woman – Centurions as well, but entirely silent. They’re listening though, you can tell from the movement of their eyes. The whites flicker back and forth, like ping-pong balls at your verbal sparring match.

Satisfied by their attention, your attacker leans back in his seat. “I heard you screwed up a sim yesterday,” he notes, nonchalant.

Your spoon freezes, halfway to your lips. Staring into the bowl, you force yourself to resume eating – then glance at the guy, and try not to blink. “That’s none of your business.” You arch a brow. “Given my score still probably beat your piss-poor time.”

The woman snorts, causing your attacker to color. “Fuck off, Marion,” he mutters. “And you,” he sneers, returning his gaze, “should be more careful. You’ve been lucky so far, that’s all.”

This, you take as your cue to leave. Refusing to engage any further, you push yourself to stand from your seat. Leaving the bowl half-empty, you let it stand as a statement: even with a half-eaten breakfast, even with half your normal sustenance, you will still trounce his lazy, bulbous ass. Hesitation enters your thoughts, hesitation you quickly brush aside. You will be better than him today, you will do better – because he isn’t wrong, technically. In your sim yesterday, you did mess up a bit.

Sim is short for simulation – it’s part of training of the Military, a detailed level of battle strategy. As the youngest level of authority within the Military, sims are a Centurion’s first introduction to leadership. Thus far you’ve been good – very good – at the games, but your naiveite yesterday cost you some lives. You made a heroic move in the sim, only to turn around and realize you’d lost half your fleet.

Thinking this, you scowl, though you don’t turn around. As the youngest Centurion in the Military, it’s still your duty to act with decorum. Centurion is a low rank, relatively speaking – since the planet of Exercitus is divided into eight hundred Citadels, each of which houses over eight million citizens. One Senator governs each Citadel and beneath each Senator, reports eighty Tribunes. Tribune, is a mostly ceremonial role – you’ve never actually dealt with them face to face since they exist at a high level, in strategy and leadership you never really see.

Centurion, is even further than that. Reporting to each Tribune are one hundred Legions. A Prime commands a Legion – and below each Prime, are ten Cohorts. Beneath each Cohort, report ten Centuries. You are the leader of this last unit, a Century – hence, the title Centurion. One hundred individual soldiers remain beneath your control.

Despite this puny level of leadership, it is still higher than the eight million soldiers, residing in Barracks. You are still a leader, meaning you’re determined to act like one. The sims are just games, designed to make you better – it would not be becoming, to fight in real life over one. There’s a lot of tension over sims already, since whichever Centurion wins their round – the win is then marked, as you move up the boards.

The boards. A genius invention, or perhaps a terrible one. The boards are a ranking of every Centurion and depending on your number of wins, you move up or down in the ranks. Whenever a Cohort position opens, the Centurion ranked first, is the one to replace them.

Slowly, you turn your head at the board. The statistics remain unchanged, unmoved from last night. You sit in the same position, the same ranking you had yesterday: Y/N, 328,914/800,000. Turning around to face your attacker, you lean one hand on the table. “What was your name, again?” you murmur, soft as you can be.

The guy blinks, though doesn’t move. “Orion,” he responds, stiffer than before.

“Orion,” you nod, almost to yourself. Your gaze flicks back up, and you make a dramatic show of finding him near the bottom. “Orion: 677,751/800,000. Ouch,” you respond, turning away.

As you walk, he responds – and his words send a chill down your spine. “Get off your fucking high horse,” Orion drones. “The sims go easy on you, don’t they – even the machines, feel sorry for a whoreson.”

Freezing in place, you consider the options. You don’t have many, since Orion didn’t leave much. Any hesitancy to respond is viewed of as weakness – which is something you can’t afford, given the number of onlookers. Whoreson is an insult, one of the highest proportion. On Exercitus, the concept of gender and sexuality might be fluid but the idea of procreation and marriage, is surprisingly not. When you leave the Military at twenty-five, when you raise a child until the age of six, you are expected to marry – you are expected to form a familial unit.

Your mother did not do this. She and your father did not marry – and as such, Orion is calling her a whore.

Slowly, you turn around. “What did you say to me?” you ask, eerily calm.

Orion doesn’t heed your warning, doesn’t see the danger as he pushes himself to stand. “You heard me,” he repeats, smiling unpleasantly. “I said your mother fucked your father, but couldn’t get him to commit before he went and got his entire Legion unnamed.”

Suddenly, the walls of the room seem to blur. You’re barely thinking, when you launch yourself forward. Orion’s head snaps back, ricocheting sideways when your fist finds his jaw. Before he can react to this, you duck, spinning out of harm’s way to jab him straight in the stomach. Orion attempts to lunge, but by the time he’s turned, you’re already there. You make another strike to his throat, following this up with a knee to the groin – showing no mercy, when you grab him by the shoulders and knee him again.

Orion groans out loud, sinking to clutch at his nether regions – eyelids fluttering, while staring up at your form. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you smile – grimly.

“I don’t think you will fuck, for a bit,” you respond.

When you turn around, the room is silent. Blank eyes stare back at you, while a slow flush starts to stain your cheeks. The only thing you can do, is to move – you do so now, walking, though your body is numb, heart racing with adrenaline. Mentally, you check off your list – opponent disabled. No immediate danger from your surroundings.

A roar goes up from the crowd, deafening applause when you wince. It’s not unusual, for a fight to break out in the hall – what is unusual, is for it to be from Centurions. Citizens of your rank are expected to rise above it. You cannot lead soldiers, if you disagree amongst yourselves. Orion started the fight, you argue with yourself. He started this fight, though you were the one to end it.

Without quite meaning to, you smile. A gesture which disappears, when the doors to the hall bang open.

“Y/N!”

The sound of your name makes you stop, echoing off the stone of the walls. Everyone turns to stare as slowly, carefully, you look – your stomach sinking, when you spot the red and black Insignia marching towards you. A Prime – your Prime, to be exact. He walks until facing you, coming to a halt and surveying your body.

Two soldiers stand on either side. The male you don’t recognize, but the female – sucking in a breath, you recognize Lilly.  You can’t think about this for long though, as your gaze returns to Larsin. That’s your Prime – Larsin. A disagreeable man, who wouldn’t hesitate to whip you, if you called him by name. His hair is dark, eyes blue, with a jawline that could cut – you can hardly deny, your Prime is attractive. You’ve never heard about Larsin spending the night with anybody, though, nor would you expect this.

Snapping free from your thoughts, you form a salute. “Prime,” you greet. “Well slept.”

“Centurion,” he nods, a half-assed greeting. Realizing the silence around you, Larsin’s gaze flicks over the crowd. “As you were,” he calls, waiting until the hustle and bustle resumes. No one would dare disobey the command of a Prime, and Larsin only waits a moment before looking away. “You’re needed, Centurion. Upstairs.”

He turns on his heel to walk and on reflex you follow, gaze flicking up while you ponder his words. Upstairs, meaning the main part of the Citadel. Most life on Exercitus is spent belowground. This is where all the living, training, working quarters are: the only part of the Citadel built aboveground is the Chamber. The Chamber, a vaulted, hallowed space where everything of importance happens. Swearing-in ceremonies, holidays and celebrations – also punishments, when the offense is severe enough.

Swallowing, you try not to think about this. As Larsin exits out of the hall, banging open doors, you follow him dutifully. Perhaps it was the fight – perhaps you’re being punished for that. That would be an awfully fast turnaround, but you can’t think of anything else as you walk. You haven’t been to the surface in a while, haven’t had the need to.

Exercitus is not a pretty planet, not by anyone’s standards. Exercitus is a harsh, brutal landscape; perfect for training soldiers. The gravity of it is heavy, the air dense so when you fight on other planets it’s easier. Most of the structures are belowground, using the rock as a natural barrier against the elements. Only the topmost part of the Citadel sticks out above, made from the toughest elements in the Universe – able to withstand even the most punishing nature of Exercitus.

Larsin’s back remains rigid, climbing the stairs. You follow as well, forcing fear down in your throat. Such an emotion is shameful, and mustn’t be seen. It is your duty to remain brave, your job to be strong. You look instead at Lily, marching beside you. She doesn’t look your way, though she’s a head shorter than you, so maybe that’s part of it.

Lily is a light, delicate creatures – you must admit, that’s part of what drew you to her. Her vulnerability shocked you, especially on a planet like this. It’s almost strong, you think, to be so open in the face of the Creed. Vulnerabilities can be exploited though, and you wonder with a sinking feeling if that’s what’s happening. If Larsin has somehow used Lily, exploited her somehow.

The thought makes you twinge, though you push this away. That’s none of your concern, what goes on between them. Lifting your chin, you continue up the steps. The stairs are long, the noises of mess hall long since faded. All around you hums oxygen and machinery, the air temperature dropping while you climb.

The walls are plain, like most things in Barracks. Ornamentation is deemed unnecessary, and anything unnecessary is a distraction from the Creed. The hallway veers sharply left, and as the group of you turn the corner, Larsin holds up his hand.

“Halt,” he commands, looking at Lily. “As you were, soldiers. Return to the dining hall – commence with breakfast, and resume training.”

They both nod, turning without protest. You watch them go, disapproving of the situation. Larsin knows breakfast is nearly over, knows he’s just forced them to skip a meal. The two will go hungry during morning training, an asshole thing for Larsin to command. A braver person than the two of them, might have protested. Then again, you remind yourself, bravery is reckless – oftentimes, more trouble than it’s worth.

Motioning you to follow, Larsin continues. It takes five minutes and thirty-seven seconds to reach the end of the hall. You count each one internally, certain the timing is correct. It’s a skill you’ve taught yourself over the years, one you use when you’re nervous or bored. Reaching the end of the hall, Larsin opens both doors. He walks in first, barely giving time to prepare before you’re entering as well.

The room is familiar, though you cannot see it in full. You stare at the back of Larsin’s head – scared to look elsewhere, in case you cause offense. You don’t need to see the room, since you’ve seen it before. Above you is stone, below you is stone. Polished and smoothed, this extends until reaching the edge of the wall. The stone is not of Exercitus – no, it’s a special carted from Tenebris, made at the very end of the solar system.

Ten times denser than anything here, the only thing able to hold the weight of your atmosphere. The soldiers call it Atlas, though you’re uncertain if this is the name. The wall before you houses the window –this, too, is not made on Exercitus. Nor was this made anywhere in your solar system, no one in the Coalition having that skill or capability. The Chamber is the only room in Barracks with glass, the only room with a window, since it’s the most important room in the Citadel. The floor beneath you has seen its equal share of blood and tears – only some due to happiness.

Larsin comes to a stop, blocking your view. You don’t object to this, appreciating the extra time to clarify your thoughts. It’s been a long time since you entered this room alone – the time prior, was being sworn in as Centurion. The time before that, you barely remember. It was to accept your father’s ashes, a thing you were too young to fully understand.

Now you stare at Larsin’s back, emptying your mind of everything but your duty. Whatever you’ve done, you will accept your punishment with grace. You will accept it, and move on with your life. Such is the Creed of Exercitus, the life of a Centurion.

“Commander,” Larsin bows, sinking down on one knee. “I have brought you your Centurion, as requested.”

Head snapping up, the blood turns to ice in your veins. The scene seems to wave, while you reconsider the options. This is much, much worse than imagined. Over Prime Larsin’s head is the seat of the Senator – occupied, but not by Senator Glib. The Senator stands off to one side, hands twisted behind his back while surveying the room.

In his chair sits Taekwoon. Lee Taekwoon, the Commander of Exercitus – leader of the Military, and the highest voice of authority. Fighting to stay calm, you still your thoughts and meet his gaze. Taekwoon leans forward, gaze rising from your boots to your face. He rests his elbows upon his knees, tilting his head.

“She’s smaller than I thought she would be,” he comments – and you still. Lips tightening, you hold back your words. Taekwoon smiles in response, as though he knows your mind. “You have something you wish to say, Centurion?” he asks, blinking. “I can only imagine that’s why you’re still standing.”

Stomach dropping, you rapidly sink to your knees. Before you, Larsin’s back has stiffened – you can only imagine the beating you’ll receive, after leaving this room. If you ever leave this room, that is. It’s beginning to seem as though you may not. You can think of no other reason, why the Commander would be here. When your knees hit the floor, it jostles your frame – so much so, you wince at the sound.

Taekwoon merely laughs, voice floating over your head. “I did not mean to kneel now,” he corrects. “If you would not kneel upon my arrival – why pretend, after? It seems such formalities are behind us.”

When you lift your gaze, you find his expression has not changed. Taekwoon surveys you blandly, nothing but present in his eyes. Reaching out his hand, he gestures that you stand. “Rise,” he murmurs, waiting as you obey. “We have much to discuss.”

“With me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself. It’s pleasing, that you don’t stammer – most would, you imagine in this situation. Most would, speaking to the Commander of Exercitus: the most feared man in the Coalition, save one.

Taekwoon tilts his head. “You’re too far. Step around your Prime.”

You obey immediately, trying not to look at Larsin when you pass – the tips of his ears are red with anger, corners of his mouth held taut. Besides Larsin, the room is nearly empty. Only two others stand at the front, one the Senator and the other, your Tribune. You only recognize her due to the uniform; navy and gold threading, mixed with the Insignia. You’ve never seen her this close before, only from a distance, never having had a need. The Tribune stares as you walk, completely impassive. The picture of obedience, living embodiment of the Creed.

Behind Taekwoon stands the window and beyond, Exercitus. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the surface and your gaze lingers on it, now. The dual moons hang low in the sky, the starry night vast beyond that. Golden Doctrine is visible, hanging between you and Rhea, the sun.

If the glass extended further, you would see the other four planets behind you. They extend in a row, all the way out to Tenebris. As it is, you survey the landing pad of Barracks and see Taekwoon’s ship, resting in the middle – notable, from the Imperial Insignia stamped on its side. Beyond this though, nothing. Nothing but wispy sand tinged grey, with regret. Sand which crests into dunes, falls between the cracks of the ground.

Taekwoon clears his throat, returning your gaze. It’s uncertain which is worse – the nightmare outside, or the one within.

“I hear you’ve been fighting,” Taekwoon announces, quiet. “Fighting another Centurion. Such behavior,” he tuts, gentle, “is not ideal.”

It’s a struggle for you to remain still. “Not ideal,” you agree, facing forward. “But necessary, occasionally.”

The corner of Taekwoon’s mouth lifts. At his side, the Senator mutters – something which makes Taekwoon still, waving his hand. “Settle, Glib,” he exhales. “I made a statement, to which I expected a response. The Centurion has done nothing wrong.”

Still appearing sour though, the Senator nods. “If you decree it, Commander.”

Taekwoon’s gaze darkens. “I do. Centurion, I have a problem,” he muses, silken. “A very specific problem, requiring very specific aid. Speaking to my Senators, I bade them find me a specific individual: one with great talent, but unknown to other planets. One who might pass through their waters, unnoticed. Also,” he leans forward, finding your gaze, “I have need of a specific skill – one you just so happen to possess.”

Ignoring this, you blink lazily back. “Pass through, what waters?” You choose to focus on this – the rest will come later, surely.

Chuckling to himself, Taekwoon settles back in his seat. “Astute, aren’t you?” He arches a brow. “That’s good, it means you won’t be caught unawares. Unfortunately, though,” he sighs, as though put out. “Today’s display has placed me in a bit of a predicament. I need someone who keeps calm under pressure, not a hotheaded, jacked up Centurion throwing punches at each insult.”

Taekwoon’s voice hardens, becoming a sword by the end of his sentence. You can barely stand to meet his gaze, but you manage to do so. “I am not that kind of person,” you announce.  

“Oh?” Taekwoon seems unconvinced. “Pray tell, then – what was the fight about? What could have been said, to made you react in such a fashion?”

“He insulted my mother,” you respond, back stiffening.

“And?” Taekwoon sounds bored, as though it’s not enough.

“And,” you hesitate. “The unnamed Legion of my father.”

A low hiss escapes Larsin, surprising you. He doesn’t seem the sentimental type – which only goes to show, how serious the insult was. The Senator is also appalled, even Taekwoon’s gaze narrows. Only the Tribune does not move, though the corners of her eyes widen.

“I see.” Taekwoon’s fingers uncurl from the chair. “Then you should have punched him harder. Prime,” he barks, over your shoulder. “Find the man and remove his Insignia. He is demoted to soldier – desecration of fallen comrades, is not something which becomes a Centurion.”

“Right away, Commander.” Larsin rises, you hear him turn – the sounds of him exiting follow, and you focus on this rather than the memories at hand.

It’s impossible completely block them out though, not completely. An unnamed Legion is one stricken from the records of Exercitus. The name is removed, no longer able to be used by future Legions. It’s a gesture of respect, since an unnamed Legion is one where the entirety – all ten thousand of its soldiers – were killed in the same battle.

A harsh silence settles over the room, as Taekwoon sighs. The sound is softer, gentler. “I have a problem, Centurion,” he reminds you, returning your gaze to his. “One I need your help to solve.”

He pauses, as though waiting. Licking now-dry lips, you respond, “What kind of problem?”

“You seem young,” Taekwoon muses. “Perhaps too young to remember.”

“Try me,” you mutter, no longer caring about pretense. Making you speak about your father, his death is unforgiveable – no matter his rank. “You don’t appear much older than I am.”

Taekwoon smiles, only briefly. “Oh, you are bold,” he chuckles, gaze lifting over your shoulder. “You are also kind. Senator,” he drones, looking to where Senator Glib has taken a half-step forward – faltering, at the command in his voice. “It is fine. I don’t know if you remember, Centurion, before the lights went out?” Taekwoon says this as a question, while the Senator returns to his side.

Your gaze follows his motion. “I remember,” you respond, and you do.

When you were young, your mother use to sing to you with the lights on. There was a mobile hung above your bed, bright with lights which spun while she sang. Such a thing isn’t possible now, not the curfew. Curfew went into effect when you were nine, a forced lights-out at 20:00 – something which has lasted until present day. That isn’t all, though. You’ve heard rumors, unsubstantiated ones, that the planet of Exercitus is running low on power.

Taekwoon does not flinch at your expression. “The rumors are true,” he states, remaining calm. “We are indeed, running out of energy.”

At his side, the Senator shifts – startled, by Taekwoon’s honestly. Silence follows, in which you let this sink in. This fact isn’t a surprise to you, not really – what is confusing, is Taekwoon telling you this. It nothing to do with you, doesn’t affect you. This only affects you, in that it affects you all: affects your Legion, your Cohort, your Century.

“I noticed,” you respond, because he seems to be waiting for an answer. It would be rude, telling Taekwoon it was obvious – rude, to say they’ve done a poor job covering things up. Their meals are now smaller, the days shorter and sims weaker. It doesn’t take a genius, to figure this out.

Taekwoon’s eyes gleam, understanding. “I’ll be honest, Centurion – these are dangerous times, both for Exercitus and for the Coalition.”

Interest stirs within you, though you do your best to hide it. “Oh?”

He nods. “You know of Tenebris, yes?”

Swallowing the insult, you nod. Of course, you know Tenebris, the most feared planet in the solar system. Earlier, when you considered Taekwoon to be the most feared man in the galaxy, save one –Hongbin is that one, the stark ruler of Tenebris. He controls the planet, meaning he also controls ninety percent of the Coalition’s energy.

“I know about Tenebris,” you respond.

“But not much, I’d imagine,” Taekwoon allows, standing from his seat. “Tenebris is a mysterious planet, even to the scholars of Doctrine. It exists on the edge of our solar system ad little is known about it – save for their production and shipping, of the Coalition’s supply.”

“Yes,” you admit, tensing. “This is all I know about Tenebris.”

The Commander surveys you, only a second. “Lying doesn’t become you, Centurion.” When he sees you freeze, he waves a hand. “We shall talk about that later – right now, I face a problem. When I first assumed position of Commander, there existed a very strict status quo. Each planet would receive a firm ration of energy, decided by the Coalition at our bi-annual Summits. Over the past years,” Taekwoon pauses, then frowns, “the rations of Exercitus have decreased.”

“Decreased?” you repeat, dazed. You’re still thinking about his earlier words, the accusation of you lying – perhaps that is why Taekwoon called you, why he’s telling you all this.

He nods, stepping closer. “At our current rate of depletion, we’ll cease being able to sustain the current population within the year. Two, if we grant further energy cuts. Exercitus will fall, our Military will be weak, and the Coalition will be at dangerous risk for invasion.”

His words cut you, horrid and clear. “But – why?” you breathe, confused.

“I do not know,” Taekwoon responds, stiff. “I do know though, that I can’t let it happen. Exercitus must remain strong, just as the Coalition must remain strong.”

“But,” you hesitate, thinking this over. “Isn’t it the Coalition itself, deciding the shipments of energy?”

Something in Taekwoon’s jaw ticks. “True,” he nods, curt. “Though this doesn’t mean I receive the shipments I’m allotted, though.”

You nod, looking at the ground. Mind buzzing, you’re still trying to understand how all this pertains to you.  

“I the Commander of Exercitus,” Taekwoon speaks, softer. “I exist to uphold our solar system, but if it is a member of the Coalition plotting against us – what should I do then, Centurion?”

He waits for an answer – and answer from you and you stare, mind blank with the possibilities. It is something engrained in you from a young age, protecting the Coalition. To protect the system, but if the threat comes from within the Coalition – you hesitate. “I would ask why,” you state, meeting his gaze. “Why, would another planet of the Coalition want us weakened?”

“And?” Taekwoon replies, equally soft. “What logic would you find?”

The answer is there, waiting for you to see it. “We are the strongest planet,” you allow. “No one can stand against our Military, should we choose to invade. If we were eliminated though, there would be no one left to defend the Coalition. Its riches would fall, to whomever so desired it.”

“Exactly.” Taekwoon’s voice trembles. “The unfortunate part,” his gaze flicks over your shoulder, “is that this is still just a theory. I don’t know anything, for certain. I have only suspicions, and need confirmation to act. Which is where you –”

You inhale – sensing the attack a split-second before it happens. Whirling around, your eyes widen when you see Larsin’s fist, coming straight for your face. You duck, barely evading him and Larsin snarls – turning, though you’re already past him. You slam your elbow into his back, immediately following this up with a kick to the knee.

Larsin yells, noise harsh when the joint pops out of the socket. He turns again, roughly pushing the cap back in place – you don’t wait, punching him in the nose before he can see. Mercy is for the weak, and you refuse to let him win. Larsin’s head snaps back at the motion, blood pouring from his nose while you take a running start and tackle him to the ground.

The Prime buckles under your weight, growling when his back slams against the floor. He attempts to throw you off, so you backhand his face – slamming shards of broken nose back in his skull. You could leave him like this, could consider him defeated – but it is not in your training, nor is it your nature. Anyone can still be a threat and gritting your teeth, you grab hold of his head. Slamming his frame against the ground, you strike hard enough to daze. Larsin lets out a moan, attempting to prop himself up – only to shudder, collapsing back down on the ground.

Silence. Complete and utter silence, but for your panting. Chest rising and falling, you manage to stand from the ground. Your thoughts are hazy, dizzy with the adrenaline – only one thought remaining clear in your mind. You were set up – this was a test.

Taekwoon hasn’t moved, still watching you calmly. When he sees you look at him, betrayal in his eyes, he arches a brow. “When did you know?” he asks, voice carrying over the stillness.

Behind him, the others stand gaping. Both Senator and Tribune appear shocked – staring wide-eyed from Larsin to you, then back to Larsin. You are only a Centurion, yet you defeated a Prime.

“When Larsin left,” you spit out, glaring at Taekwoon. “There were no footsteps down the hall. You also kept moving, glancing over my shoulder twice. Once, when he did not leave. The second, when he re-entered the hall.”

Taekwoon begins to smile. “Correct,” he allows, inclining his head. “Most satisfactory, Centurion. Many would have assumed their environment safe, being in my presence. I have my decision,” Taekwoon declares, hands folded over his coat. “I have a job for you, Y/N.”

Blinking, you’re confused to hear him call you by name. This entire time, it’s been Centurion – it appears that now though, you are something more. Still, you don’t respond. Not yet, while you assess your surroundings. This is a way you are different, something to separate you from your peers. Exercitians are taught to respect authority – you were taught to listen; to obey, but only so far.

On Exercitus, no one ever tells that the enemy can be found within. You learned lesson firsthand, from the mistakes of your father. This was the reason his Legion was unnamed, this is the reason his ashes rest upon your mantle. There was a traitor in his Legion, one who led to the slaughter of battle.

When you meet Taekwoon’s gaze, you’re unsure how you feel right now. He tested you, rightfully so. If everything he said is true – you believe that it is – he needs someone to spy for him. A spy. The word leaves a sour taste in your mouth, one you do your best to swallow. A spy cannot be a follower, will not always have orders to obey. Taekwoon wanted to know if you could be observant, if you can get out of tight situations, should the occasion arise.

You understand this but still, you don’t like it. Taekwoon arches a brow. “Would you like to hear the job, Y/N?”

Exhaling once, you nod. It is not like you have a choice. “Tell me,” you request, voice flat. “Tell me what you need.”

Taekwoon’s eyes gleam, in the light of the moons. “I need intelligence,” he admits. “I need an individual to go to Tenebris, to infiltrate their society and determine what’s happening. I need to know why our resources are dwindling. I need,” he inhales, “to understand everything.”

“You want me to spy for you,” you summarize, lip curling with distaste. “Spying is not honorable, spying is not strong.”

Taekwoon turns, nearly laughing at your words. “Ah, reciting the Creed. Tell me, Y/N – what does the Creed mean to you? Strength,” he nods, “Power. Discipline – all markings of a good soldier. Not a great one, though,” he allows, coming to a stop before the window. “Do you ever wonder about the dichotomy, between our Creed and the medals?”

Remaining silent, you decide you have nothing to say. It’s true, you’ve often wondered. Your Creed mandates the following orders – but your medals recognize only the individual. They call out moments of bravery, ones the soldier disobeyed orders and ended up winning the war. It’s strange, to think about honoring such things when it is hammered into you from birth, to obey.

“The reason,” Taekwoon continues, hearing your hesitation, “is because ninety-nine percent of the time, the Creed is in your best interests. Most of the time, your leader will be correct, and the Creed gives the best chance of survival. This still leaves one percent, though.” Taekwoon pauses, surveying the horizon. “This is when we have need for the individual. This is when the Creed should be ignored.”

Staring at his profile, you find it oddly calming to hear this. “And,” you muse, breaking your silence, “this is one of those moments?”

Taekwoon turns, looking your way. “I believe that it is.”

“And I,” you pause, gathering strength. “I, am that one person?”

He nods, continuing to stare. “I hope that you are.”

It’s this word – hope, which convinces you. Looking at your hands, you find them speckled with blood from your fights. “What now?” you ask, closing them to fists.

Taekwoon smiles, somewhat. “Now,” he looks at the Senator. “You will be trained. You will learn the customs of Tenebris – ah! Now we talk about your skills. The ones to come in handy, the ones mentioned earlier.”

Your stomach sinks, as you start to understand. This is what you feared, when Taekwoon called you a liar – this is what you seem to fear, every day of your life. It’s beginning to make sense, why you were selected and not someone else.

“Whatever you’ve heard,” you interject his speech, eyes cold. “I don’t either birth, nor heritage, is relevant to this mission.”

“On the contrary,” Taekwoon states, bored. “Tell me, Y/N – do you still fluent Tenibi? I assume it was your father, who taught you. Most parents seek to educate their children, in the ways of their culture.”

You struggle to remain silent, while your lips tighten into a line.

Taekwoon chuckles, seeing your expression. “Come now, let’s not play games. Your father was unusual, was he not? An ambassador of Tenebris who fell in love with your mother. Unable to marry, due to our laws – but still, they had you.” Taekwoon arches a brow. The laws of Exercitus state only citizens, can marry one another. “Your father joined the Military to gain citizenship – unfortunately dying, before that day could arrive. Tragic,” he breathes, the word soft.

“Tragic,” you repeat, hands unclenching. The story is familiar – of course it is, since it’s yours. “How is this relevant?”

Taekwoon does not move, holding your gaze. “Ni appen adul ba.” I know you can understand me.

Lifting your chin, you exhale. “Ni ami dual.” I understand you.

Pausing again, Taekwoon allows these words to speak for themselves. “So, you see – you are valuable, Y/N. Not just for your military prowess, but because you speak the language. Your role will be that of a translator – a request Hongbin sent, one week ago.”

“One week?” Somewhat shocked by this, you stare. “You said I would be trained – how long do you anticipate, before I’ll be sent to Tenebris?”

Taekwoon adjusts his coat. “It took a long time to find you, a person suitable for the task. For Hongbin’s purposes, I will simply make the search longer. Someone speaking the language of both planets is, as I said, unusual.”

You nod, dazed. “I understand.”

“Good.” Taekwoon meets your gaze. “Then – as Commander of Exercitus, as head of the Military of the Coalition, protector of the solar system, I ask for your help. I ask you to serve your people, by accepting this mission and all it entails.”

“I accept,” you say softly, the weight of his words settling.

This will be dangerous. Tenebris is a dangerous place, even to you – there are few who step foot on the planet, even fewer who leave. Your father never spoke of it, not that you can remember. To travel to Tenebris, conceal your identity, gather information and return, unscathed – the chances are low, you realize this. But still, you must try.

Straightening your spine, you place a hand over your heart. “I accept the dangers and will serve, as requested.”

“Then it is done,” Taekwoon agrees, solemn. He looks sideways – to where the Senator and Tribune still stand. “Tribune, it will be your duty to train her. Twenty-eight Doctrine days, is the agreed-upon number with Hongbin.”

The woman nods, turning. You stare at Taekwoon, because Doctrine days are shorter than Exercitian – your planet spins slower, compared to the rest. This cuts even further, into your time to prepare. Taekwoon walks, jacket swishing around him – though he pauses at the door, looking over his shoulder. “Y/N,” he states, waiting as you turn. “Thank you.”

He disappears, Senator Glib close behind. You’re left standing with the Tribune and Larsin, who still lies hurt on the floor. “Call a medic,” the Tribune instructs, at the soldier who enters. “Tell them to come take care of Prime Larsin.”

Once this is underway, she turns in your direction – eyeing you warily, as though unsure what to say.

“Let us begin,” she states, and you do.

The flight to Tenebris is eleven hours, forty-two minutes and thirty-three seconds. You’ve been counting down since liftoff, though you’re not certain if your internal clock lines up anymore. Interplanetary travel affects things, messes with time itself. One year on Exercitus is not like on Tenebris – age is different there, as are the people.

It’s something you’ll have to get used to. Turning from the window, you survey the hold. The next scheduled flight to Tenebris was not for months, so you ended up hitching a ride from a passing cargo ship. It is not made for comfort, strictly utilitarian with a mostly empty hold, aside from your seats. Across from you sits a Cohort – not yours – who in all honestly, you’re not certain how got signed up for the job.

He sits tight, eyes scrunched while fingernails dig into his armrests. One minute in, he gasped, “Motion sickness,” and remained locked in that position since. At least he’s silent, not puking all over your new clothing.

New clothing, which marks you as Ambassador. Your fingers trail the bronzed buttons, forming a line down the center of your chest. One lesson drilled into you, over and over, is that first impressions are important. Appearances are as well, more so than on Exercitus. It’s strange to think about, and already you’re nervous.

There’s so much that could go wrong, in the coming months. You have until the Summit to solve this – six months, in Exercitian time. You have until the Summit, but so much could go wrong before then. You could slip, could cause offense – Hongbin might take one look, and know you’re a liar.

Tightening your jaw, you look at the stars. Fourteen minutes, eleven seconds until landing. It would have been calming, to take Taekwoon with you – his presence is intimidating, but at least then you’d feel less like an imposter. When you asked him to come, he said no. It would seem too suspicious, for him to fly across the solar system at the mere introduction of a translator. No, you must go alone – and thinking this, your fingers curl around your armrest.

You are not used to this kind of subterfuge. On the battlefield, in sims – sure, you’re used to feinting, to baiting and switching. Alone though, it feels different. Locking both knees together, you push away these thoughts. This is all for the good of Exercitus, for the good of the Coalition. You are the hero here, not the villain.

Leaning against the headrest, you continue your countdown. One minute, until Tenebris peeks through the clouds. Opening both eyes, you see you’re right – and leaning forward, you see flashes of rock dot the mist. They reach up like fingers, breaking into the fog but by the time you crane your head to look, they’re already gone. It’s too difficult to see, and you fall back in your seat. Counting down the final moments, until the bottom of the ship touches tarmac.

Without the roaring engine, there’s a ringing to your ears – one you ignore, unbuckling your seat belt. Pushing yourself up, you turn to your Cohort, relieved to find him a less sickly green than before. Brushing lint from your jacket, you square your shoulders – you let the Cohort lead, following close behind.

The ramp is already lower – you see it ahead, natural light filtered in from the end of the ship. The two of you walk in this direction, your heart beating wildly. While you move, you school your expression to neutrality. Hiding your emotions, and remembering your cause.

You’re not sure what you expected, stepping out of the craft. The light you saw, the natural sunlight – it’s not. Your gaze flicks overhead, recognizing holo-screens. It’s set to a forest, sunlight dappling the branches while you step down on the tarmac.

The ship is silent, perched on its thrusters – you see this for only a moment, gaze drawn to the people before you. Your Cohort walks steadily, leading the way for you to follow. You do slow slowly, examining the Tenebrians. The first thing to strike you, is how differently they’re dressed. At home, everyone around you dressed mostly the same. Exercitian Uniform denotes rank, social status – nothing more. Clothing here on Tenebris also seems to note social status, though not in the same way.

Expensive fabrics like silk, velvet – things you’ve only read about – they all shimmer and drape around bodies of varying sizes. It fascinates you, so much that you don’t notice the man standing in the middle of the row. Not until you’re standing before him, until your Cohort bows at the waist. Remembering the slight, you made meeting Taekwoon, you quickly follow suit. Bowing with a twist of the hand, waiting until the man clears his throat in introduction.

“There’s no need to bow,” he muses, when you look up. “Welcome to Tenebris – I am Hongbin.”

[ Celestial Master List]

Author’s Note: Hi. Thank you for reading! I know there aren’t as many readers for VIXX (tragic) but I hope you enjoy this universe, since it’s already one of my favorites to write. Thank you again!

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[witchakyeon]

Vixxtober 2022

This will be my first time participating in something like this + bc of circumstances I am starting later than most folks in other fandoms & doing things a bit differently! Translation: I apologize in advance for the person I am about to become & the mess that will ensue as I attempt to pull this off. I have a plan but I also have a life, so if you notice that I skip around or anything, no you don’t <3

Most of these works will contain smut. Please read the content warnings!

Pairings will basically be announced on an update-to-update basis. I’m not really the plan in advance type (I usually write whatever I’m in the mood for when it comes to shorter works) + if anyone else decides to do this they too can pick whatever pairings they want!

Works will be posted on my ao3 + tagged on this post ·ᴗ·

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❦ Week One (10/1-10/8)

— Overstimulation ❧ Ken, Leo, Hyuk (explicit)

— “Tuck in your shirt” ❧ Neo (general)

❦ Week Two (10/9-10/15)

— Aftercare ❧ Chabin (general)

— Creature scenario ❧ Chabin (explicit)

— “Come to bed” ❧ Kenvi (general)

— “Spread your legs, sweet thing” ❧ Chasang (explicit)

— “You have the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen” ❧ Hyuken (general)

❦ Week Three (10/16-10/22)

— Spanking ❧ Sanghyuk solo* (explicit)

— Shower sex ❧ Luck (explicit)

— “Hey, kiss me?” “You’re bleeding on my carpet” ❧ Hyuken (general)

— “Sounds like a you problem” ❧ Hyukbin (general)

❦ Week Four (10/23-10/29)

— Lingerie ❧ Keo (explicit)

— Creampie ❧ Chaken (explicit)

— Morning sex ❧

— “You know I’m not real…don’t you?” ❧

— “What are you doing to me?” ❧ Kenbin (explicit)

❦ Week Five (10/30-10/31)

— ot6; Hongbin-centric ❧ Hongbin solo* (explicit)

— “Do you believe everything you read?” ❧ Chabin (general)

[squeallywrites]

Rebellion Ch.19

Leo and Ira managed to slip by any guard they came across on their way up the capitol building. But something kept catching their eye every time they passed one. Those that wore the half- helmets, their facial features were exactly the same. They all had the same scar on the right side of their cheek, same thin lips and same nose. Every one was even the same build.

“This is getting weird,” said Ira as they passed yet another pair, “At least we’re getting near the top now.”

Just as they turn the corner, Ira runs into a guard, making him stumble backwards.

“Hey! What are you two doing up here?!” He yells, grabbing his gun to take aim. Leo rushes the man with a few quick jabs, the guard collapsing onto the ground, unconscious. Leo  yanks off the helmet and… It’s Alec?! 

“But she shot him!” He couldn’t believe it. 

“What if Alec..is like us?” She muses as she kneels to get a closer look. Ira looks up at Leo, “It is possible since we don’t know how they developed the virus.”

The older looks off, pondering for a hot minute before nodding, “It would make sense.”

Footsteps thunder towards them. They bolt, Ira leading the way. She pushes open a door, Leo not far behind her. As they catch their breath, Leo freezes. Ira follows his line of sight only to gasp.

Elisabeth. 

~~~~~~~

She was unconscious. That much was clear as she was suspended in a mysterious light blue liquid. Chains wrapped around her arms and legs latched her to the bottom of the tank as her hair swirled above her. A mask that covered her lower face was connected to the floor with a tube. Ira squints her eyes as she looks the tank up and down before turning to Leo, whispering, “It looks like there’s an opening at the top.”

“Wait, Ira,” he grabs her wrist, keeping his voice low. There’s a good chance that this is a trap.”

“Trap or not, we have to help her. Leo, you gave me this chance to do something more, so let me do it.”

With that, she shifts into a rat and skitters towards the tank. He watches her for moment before taking in the room. There wasn’t much to it. The domed ceiling had wires draped across the open area. Air ducts went up the walls, breaking apart the old marble. A semi-sheer curtain hid a portion of the room off to the side. Gently, he opens the curtain just enough for him to slither through. A giant window overlooks Capitol Hill as tanks roll by outside. 

“You came for her, didn’t you?” A low voice rasps out.

Leo spins to where the voice came from. It was close and everything was in shadow, but he knew that voice all too well by now. He cautiously steps forward, hand raised to light up the area flames flickering around his fingers.

There was Alec, but not like he have ever seen before. This one was folded in on himself, decrepit, snow white hair drooping to his pale cheekbone. His skin sunken making him look much older. Sticking out of him in all sorts of directions were tubes and wires, connected to the machine beside him almost like a life support. His eyes, though, there was such a crazed look to them but at the same time, they held authority. Almost like he knew that he had power here.

“It doesn’t matter. You won’t leave here alive.”

Leo’s eyes narrow, but he holds his tongue. If Alec doesn’t know about Ira, best not to point it out.  

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Alec goes on, changing the subject, “I always thought so.”

“So you kept her as a trophy?”

The crippled man shakily rises from the chair, strings of electricity flittering around him, “When I had escaped, I tried to find her, you know? But she had moved everything without a trace. They found me, experimented on me. It was then I realised she left me for dead. That she had used me and tossed me aside like a lowly soldier. But now I can show her. Show her that I’m not weak. That I don’t need her anymore.”

“She thought you were dead! What else was she to do? Go off on a mission on a simple belief that you were alive with no evidence? Dragon had the entire rebellion on her mind so why focus time to worrying about you? It would have been suicide!” Leo tries to reason with him.

“I knew she had survived the virus! She could have saved me but she chose to leave to me to rot.”

Leo growls, “You told her to leave you.”

Thunder rumbles outside. Alec glances out the window to see his clones and the rebellion battling against each other.

“Well then. Looks like Sophi stepped up to the plate. Let’s make her regret that decision,” He groans as the tubes and wires begin to shake and alarms sound off from the machine. Outside, more of his clones descend upon the army. Giant vines erupt from the ground as Neo gives the ultimate order, chaos breaking free.

Alec scoffs, “You think my Elisabeth loves you? HA! Don’t make me laugh. She’ll just leave you like she did me. She never came back! She didn’t care enough to come back for me. To save me. So I’ll save her.” 

“From what?”

He spins back to Leo, eyes glowing as a crazed looks settles upon his face, “From you. From the world. We don’t belong here. We were never meant to have these abilities. It’s like a disease that needs to be erased. I was going to create a world that’ll be free of the pain and the suffering that humans put it through and show her the greatness before killing her. We don’t deserve to live. Did she tell you? How many people she’s killed while calling herself leader of the rebellion? How many of them were innocents?

“But that doesn’t matter now. You’ve given me the ultimate prize. I get to kill you and your friend right in front of her!” He manically laughs as Leo spins to see Ira, now human, on top of the tank wide eyed. Out of the corner of his eye, lightning shoots pass him right at his flicks his wrist at her. The light is so intense, he has to look away but as he blinks to clear his vision he gasps. There on the floor was a crater with Ira’s lower legs in a pool of blood.

Leo turns back to Alec, his body vibrating with energy. Coils of electricity spiral around the madman before he takes aim. Fire shoots from Leo’s hand but it counter by a clone’s shield.

Alec laughs manically as his body leans back, moaning as stronger clones of him erupt from him. While he is distracted, Leo blinks away, coming up behind Alec but his opponent hears the portal open and turns in time to deflect. He misses but the move hurts Alec, causing some clones to disintegrate and the spirals to flit away. He looks physically older and is panting.

The electricity begins to spiral back up from Alec’s feet, but Dragon’s voice echoes in the back of Leo’s mind.

“You know, with you being a firebender now, I wonder if you could do this one move from a show I used to watch. 

“Really?” Leo asks, “and what would that be?”

He takes a deep breath and braces himself.

“Redirecting lightning.”

Alec screams as he shoots at Leo. He takes it in, his body screaming at him as he struggles to aim back at the Administration’s head before releasing. The air is pulled from his lungs as the lightning strikes. He blinks again and all that is left is the destroyed remains of Alec’s machine and charred bones hanging out of the now broken window. 

Leo’s knees give out as everything begins to blur before going black.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Leo/Taekwoon Jung) Serves

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Angst ☁

Word Count: 1,184 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Leo ☁

World: Kpop, VIXX ☁

��� ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

When you first met Taekwoon, you knew he was special. He was practically a god, perfect in every way – at least in your eyes. In his own, he was full of flaws, but this worked both ways. To him, you were gorgeous and perfect, but to yourself, you could name a million ways why you weren’t gorgeous or perfect. Knowing this hurt him and he promised himself that he would make you feel like royalty.

It was embarrassing at first. He would constantly shower you with compliments and light kisses on your cheeks and forehead. When he was around, you weren’t allowed to do anything. He wanted to serve you, doing the cooking and cleaning. You tried so many times to help, but he got so upset when you did that you finally stopped – seeing the hurt expression on his face physically hurt you.

This made you feel incompetent at first like he didn’t trust you to do things on your own, but you soon grew to realize that wasn’t the case. He was happy doing things for you and seeing his happiness made you accept the situation. After a couple of years, it became commonplace and you started to enjoy the affection he showered on you.

But there are those that don’t understand, those that view the situation as you using him. You ignored these comments at first – they weren’t part of your relationship and they knew nothing about you, so why should you care?

The looks and whispers started to take their toll on you, though. You started to feel uncomfortable, thinking everyone was glaring at you and talking behind your back every time you left the house. Seeing the same comments made over and over by multiple people started to engrave the idea into your mind that you were, in fact, using him. All of his work over the years was starting to break as you started to hate yourself for letting this happen.

You slammed the laptop closed in frustration after reading a post about your ‘abusive’ relationship with Taekwoon. The post itself had over five thousand likes and reblogs, meaning many others felt the same way.

Were you abusing him? You honestly didn’t know. This was your first relationship, and you only had the shows you’ve watched on TV to use as a reference. You glanced at the kitchen. The sink was full of dishes from last night’s dinner and that morning’s breakfast. Taekwoon had an early schedule, so he didn’t have time to make food and clean up, but he promised he would do them when he returned home. You bit your lip.

You knew he would return home that night and head straight into the kitchen to prepare dinner and do the dishes, but he also had an early schedule tomorrow. You were betting on the chance that he would be too exhausted to notice.

You entered the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of Taekwoon’s shirt that you wore. It felt nice to do something around the house for the first time in a couple years. It made you feel useful like you could provide for the love of your life. Before you knew it, you had completed the dishes, but you longed to do more so you ran around the apartment, cleaning every inch, doing the laundry, re-organizing the spices in the cabinet. You even helped the little old lady across the hall do her grocery shopping.

When the day came to an end, you fell onto the couch feeling satisfied and proud of yourself.

The door opened and Taekwoon stepped inside, looking exhausted from the long day of practice. You greeted him with a smile, pecking his cheek. Seeing you so happy made him smile, pulling you into his arms.

“What’s gotten into you, love?”

“Nothing~ I just missed you.” You smiled, meeting him halfway as his your lips connected. Every kiss with Taekwoon was breathtaking, full of passion and love.

“I’ll get started on dinner.”

You followed him into the kitchen, wringing your hands nervously. “Can I give you a hand? I’m sure you had a long day.”

“No, you can go relax.” He stopped short, eyes narrowing at the empty sink. “Y/N, did you do the dishes?”

You cleared your throat, leaning against the door frame. “Yeah… I knew you had to leave early tomorrow, so I went ahead and did them.”

His lips pursed. The silence was worse than him getting mad, in your opinion.

“Leo?” You called, but he remained quiet as he began dinner. His back was too you and it suddenly felt cold. “Taekwoon, say something.”

“There’s nothing to say,” His voice was devoid of emotion.

“Will you stop acting like a child?!” You finally blew up. “I’m not incapable of doing things, Leo! It’s like you think I’m some sickly little girl or something! Ugh!” Frustrated at his lack of response, you stomped down the hall, slamming the bedroom door. Fights didn’t happen often between the two of you since you usually gave in to what he wanted not liking to see him upset, but everything was starting to weigh you down and you wanted to change.

The smell of the teriyaki stir fry drifted through the apartment, tickling your nose and making your stomach growl.

You scowled as you lay on your back, playing a game on your phone. You thought you could stretch your thumb across the screen but you misjudged the distance and the phone slipped, falling flat onto your face. You groaned in pain, holding onto your nose and cursing.

The door opened and the smell of food flooded the room. He looked at you with worry when he noticed you holding your nose, eyes watering. He rushed over, gently moving the hands from your face. “What happened?”

“I dropped my phone on my face…” Your nose was throbbing, turning red. “Damn that hurt.”

Taekwoon bit back a smile, resting his hand on your cheek. He didn’t say anything, lost in how he should phrase his words.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, finding the side table to be the most interesting thing in the world. “I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. I… wanted you to feel like a queen but in doing so, I made you feel like a prisoner.”

You met his gaze, feeling your heart clench at the sad look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His arms wrapped around you protectively. “I’m so lucky to have such a beautiful, talented and selfless man in my life.” His grip increased and you could feel the heat on his cheeks. “Maybe we can compromise?”

Taekwoon nodded, pressing his lips under your ear. “Yes, we can compromise.”

“I may be your queen, Leo, but you’re my king. I want to treat you like royalty, too~”

He broke out in a bright smile, snuggling into your neck. His breath fanned across your skin as he spoke, “I’d like that,”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[chronicfangirling]

When you sneak out the morning after (Hakyeon, Taekwoon, Jaehwan)

requested by: anon

Can i request how vixx would react to you sneaking out after you guys were intimate & they saw the next day 🌸

(So... these have been in my drafts for literally a year, and I don’t even have the original request ask anymore, oops.)

[vixx-edits]

An NxLeo one shot. Here is the first part.

Originally posted on AO3 and AFF.

Here's the first part

[Maybe I'm Jealous!]

Pairing: Neo, Hyukbin, Raken

Taekwoon put his luggage down and breathed in the air of Korea, a smile finding its way to his lips. Wonsik was beside him in a moment, and he too started smiling. They haven’t been away from Korea for too long, and they didn’t hate Japan, but Korea was their home country. It was where they truly belonged. Also, they had missed their lovers terribly, so the idea of finally getting back home was more than appealing.

A few minutes later, one of the managers came and picked them up. Wonsik fell asleep the moment he got comfortable in his seat, his snores filling the small space of the van. Taekwoon was also tired, but he was too excited to sleep. He kept thinking about Hakyeon, his voice, his laughter, his bright smile that could light up Taekwoon's world. Everything about Hakyeon was perfect in Taekwoon's eyes, and he had missed this perfection terribly.

Both men were mildly disappointed to find the dorm empty, all the other four probably somewhere on their own schedules. But looking at the bright side, they had some time to tidy up a bit and be decently prepared to greet their loved ones.

It wasn’t till 5 hours later, at 9 in the afternoon, that the members started coming back one after another. By that time, Wonsik and Taekwoon had taken showers, unpacked their bags and had a light meal. By the time Sanghyuk entered the dorm, Wonsik was dozing off again, and Taekwoon was looking at the TV without actually watching the show that was on.

"Oh, hyungs, you're back!" the maknae exclaimed loudly and grinned. Taekwoon just nodded and smiled at him. He had missed the cute giant, too. But it couldn’t be compared to how much he was craving Hakyeon right now. Sanghyuk looked at Wonsik's sleeping figure and shook his head before heading to his and Hongbin's shared bedroom.

Jaehwan was the second to arrive at the dorm, completely ignoring Taekwoon and almost flying to get to Wonsik. Taekwoon rolled his eyes at that. Wonsik, as if waiting for Jaehwan's arrival even in his sleep, woke up with the first touch of Jaehwan, and then they were embracing like there's no tomorrow. Taekwoon looked at them for a few seconds, and he thought he heard a small sob escape Wonsik's mouth. Geez, that sappy man. Taekwoon sucked his upper teeth and then got up and retreated to his and Hakyeon's bedroom, giving the lovebirds some time together.

He sat on the bed and stuffed his ears with his headphones after hearing the faint sound of kisses coming from the living room. It was not that he was severely disgusted by it, rather, he was getting more and more impatient by the second to see his own lover.

An hour or so passed before finally the door was opened, and in came the object of Taekwoon's affection. Taekwoon's face broke into an uncontrollable grin, the earpieces were thrown on the bed in a blink, and he was in front of Hakyeon before he knew what he was doing. But right before his arms went to encircle the tanned male's smaller body, he froze. The expression on Hakyeon's face was something he'd rarely seen, only when he was truly mad at one of the members, and everybody in VIXX knew that they should avoid Hakyeon in this state if they wanted to survive. But why was Hakyeon looking at him like that?

Taekwoon's arms were hanging in the air awkwardly, but he didn’t dare to put them around Hakyeon for now, so he lightly went for Hakyeon's biceps.

"H-hey Hakyeon…" his voice came out softer than he intended, and he mentally cursed himself for stuttering. Hakyeon's gaze on his face didn’t waver, and Taekwoon had to swallow before speaking once again.

"I missed you so mu-" Taekwoon was cut off midsentence when Hakyeon harshly pulled his arms back, successfully untangling Taekwoon's fingers from his body.

"Okay, I get it. Now step aside, I need to take a shower." Hakyeon's voice was cold and emotionless, almost robotic. Taekwoon bit his lower lip and stepped back wordlessly. Hakyeon left him just like that, and Taekwoon fell asleep while sniffling Hakyeon's pillow and trying not to let the tears out.

[dissoluteways]

praise

❧

PAIRING: Taekwoon/OC RATING: Explicit WARNINGS: kinky stuff but nothing wild. WORDCOUNT: 1427

Notes: I didn’t think this fic was that short but it’s the one i’m willing to share even though i’m really embarrassed of it now for some reason. Enjoy!

Taekwoon had always surprised her, in many ways actually, but more often than not, he surprised her with all the kinks he kept to himself. Now that they’ve been dating for a while, she had the pleasure of discovering them one by one as time went by. 

But this time, it was one she herself personally enjoyed. A lot. 

It all started when she whispered to him “good boy” rather mockingly one day. But he was obviously flustered by it, smiling lightly as he covered his face with his hands. She thought it was cute. So she tried it again a few times after that, his reaction almost always the same, until he started staring at her rather intensely one day. 

It was an intense stare, along with a sharp intake of breath, which made her realize the effect those words had on him.

She wondered how into that he was after that. So she whispered those words to him one night, his naked body on top of her, his hips between her thighs. Moaning against his mouth, she murmured words of praise as he thrust slow and hard inside her. 

The look on his face, surprise and disbelief and complete pleasure, as he suddenly pounded hard and fast into her, made her understood everything perfectly. He had a praise kink, and she couldn’t wait to find out the extent of it.

***

He came to visit her one night after his schedule had ended, his hair still styled to the side, and his makeup on. 

“You look good.” She whispered against his neck as she hugged him.

She didn’t have any second intentions when those words came out of her mouth, but his cheeks flushed as he bit his lip and it seemed like a good idea to keep going.

“You looked so good on stage today. So sexy.”

He hid his face in the crook of her neck, obviously embarrassed, and she pet the top of his head, tangling her fingers in his blonde hair, grinning mischievously. 

“You’ve been working so hard these days. You’ve been good today.”

Breathing heavily, he pulled her closer, his hand grabbing her waist rather tightly, and she hummed, pleased with his reaction, glad that it didn’t take long for those words to affect him.

“You are such a good boy, Taekwoon.”

The next thing she felt was his mouth on hers, kissing her roughly as they staggered inside the apartment. It was pure teeth and tongue, his fingers trailing under her shirt and squeezing her skin, almost bruising her. She bumped into the kitchen table as he lined himself up against her, pushing himself against her, making her gasp. 

He growled, tugging down her pants and underwear in one swift move, then grabbing her chin and tugging her face towards his, muffling her whimpers with his mouth, his hips bucking into hers roughly.

“You like torturing me like this, don’t you?” he murmured, voice so soft yet powerful; wetness dripping between her thighs, giving her away. She did enjoy it because Taekwoon was so good at torturing her as well. But she wasn’t so submissive.

“You love it when I do.” She hissed, smirking, but his hand was between her thighs and he pushed two fingers inside her without warning, making her voice tremble, her eyes fluttering closed, too aroused to put up a fight. 

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t play with fire, little girl?” his voice was so low and the whisper so faint she almost missed it.

He curled his fingers, finding that sweet spot inside of her, and she cried out, head arching back when his thumb pressed against her clit, her lower belly clenching with excitement. He pumped his fingers hard, curling up as she bucked her hips, panting against his lips, her fingers pulling at his hair.

“Fuck me…” she rasped, feeling so weak and small against his body, and he chuckled, his fingers inside her thrusting harder, deeper.

He pulled her hair with his free hand, tilting her head back as he kissed her hungrily, tongue pushing past her teeth. She gasped when he suddenly withdrew his fingers to grab her arm and turn her around, bending her over the table, her face pressed against the cool wood as he undid his pants rapidly. He tugged her arms behind her back as he pressed himself against her.

“You’re so wet.” He purred against her ear, his cock between her thighs, and she had to fight the urge to push back against him. “So submissive now. You love my big cock that much, don’t you?”

She bit her lip hard as he rubbed himself against her thighs.

“Say it.” He growled against her neck, and she shivered, and she couldn’t help but moan, feeling him so close but not close enough at the same time.

“I fucking love your big cock.” 

In a rough push, he guided himself inside her, the burning stretch feeling like it was ripping her apart. He quickly picked up his pace, thrusting into her hard, his nails digging in her arms, pushing her back against him. 

He was being so merciless, pounding into her, bruising her, not allowing her time to adjust to the intrusion. Her entire body was aching, the position she was in uncomfortable, her arms and shoulders abused because he was holding them back so tight, she had to arch her back to meet his hips. Yet she moaned loudly at his every move, breathily begging for more.

“Tell me how good I am.” He purred, his mouth on her neck sucking and biting.

She didn’t say anything for a while, her mind blank with the mix of pain and pleasure, and he pulled her hair so hard her scalp hurt, her back arching as she whimpered.

“You feel so good…” her voice trembled, almost breathless as his hips slammed against her ass, his dick hitting that spot inside her that made her knees weak. She choked, heat pulsing in her lower belly and she clenched around him. “Your big cock feels so good, babe.”

He whined, breathless against her neck, and he let go of her hands, gripping at her hips now, his pace getting more forceful. 

“Fuck… You’re so tight…” he groaned, his lips kissing her back and shoulder as he fucked her harder. 

His thrusts got erratic and wild, and he was so close, control slipping out of his hands, his dick so deep inside her he cried out when she squeezed him tight. His nails dug into her waist, keeping her steady as he pumped into her hard, heat in her lower belly pulsing, her orgasm so close. 

“Come for me, baby.” He murmured, his voice hoarse and low.

His body pressed up against her, hot and heavy, his hands on her body, gripping at her tightly, and his voice, it was all too much and she obeyed, letting go, her entire body quivering with pleasure as she moaned his name like a chant. 

He bit her shoulder as he reached his own high, riding out his orgasm as he poured himself inside her, each thrust making her gasp. She collapsed against the table, her body still shivering as he laid on top of her, crushing her body underneath his. 

He kissed her back, shoulder and neck, and every bit of skin his lips found, before getting off her. She pushed herself off the table then, her entire body sore and aching and she groaned. He turned her over, gently pulling her to his chest, his hand caressing her cheek as he kissed her lips, so soft it made her melt. 

His hands ran over her arms and waist, soothing the ache and soreness of her body so tenderly. She hissed a little when his hands settled on her wrists.

“Was I too rough?” he asked, bringing one of her wrists close to his mouth and kissing her skin gently.

“It’s fine.” Her face flushed at his actions, his mouth burning hot against her skin. “You know I like it like that…”

He smiled softly at her as he dragged his lips over her other hand, and she felt heat flooded her face. His eyes studied her intently as he kept kissing the palm of her hand, then her fingers. He chuckled quietly when she tried to cover her face with her other hand, holding her close and kissing the top of her head.

“Come,” his lips pressed to her forehead, his hand around her waist, embracing her warmly, “let’s take a bath.”

[importantgalaxydefendor]

Hi you guys! It’s been a while!

After a very tulmutous period, I’m excited to announce that I’m finally settled down and in a situation where I can begin writing again, yay!

However, I feel like I’ve outgrown the use of tumblr, so this blog will be here as an archive of sorts for the time being.

I’ve moved my social media presence to twitter. You can find me over there at https://twitter.com/moonchalice

My fics will still be posted/updated on AO3, though I’m considering changing my username there too.

At the moment I’m currently re-editing both of my currently on-going fics, and once that task is finished, I’ll be posting new content on AO3. Please follow my Twitter if you’d like to stay in the loop for furure updates!

Thanks everyone. :3

[biasedwriting]

feed me pomegranates and keep me forever [VIXX, Leo]

Hades!Taekwoon Au

Characters : VIXX's Leo / OC - mentions of Zeus!Jaehwan, Dionysius!Wonshik and Hermes!Sanghyuk

Rating : PG (they do be making out)

Plot summary - Taekwoon holds a regency themed party to welcome his wife back from the mortal realm. But do they make it to the party?

Shorter Plot summary - Hades and Persephone are simps for each other.

In a dimly lit room somewhere in the cold underworld, Taekwoon fiddled with the cuff of his costume nervously as his attendant fixed his stiff brown coat.

"Will this suffice, your majesty?"

Taekwoon absentmindedly nodded, eyeing  the empty vase that sat by the mirror. It had laid vacant for months, waiting to be filled with flowers. The flowers in his palace had wilted and been cast away, much like the souls of those who resided in his realm.

He laughed away the deep yearning he felt, making the attendant start before he turned towards the wisp of a man.

"Guide her to my chambers the moment she returns. You're dismissed."

The attendant bowed to his master and glided out of the room. 

Running his pale fingers over the rim of the porcelain, he inhaled deeply. Jung Taekwoon may be the ruler of the underworld, but there was only one person who had complete power over him.

Giving the ruffles on his sleeve one last tug, Taekwoon glancing at the mirror again. The brown coat, cravat, and ruffles reminded him of some of the souls that came into his world in the 1800s. His clothing decisions were made after consulting his meticulous notes while passing judgements and careful chronicling of the entrants of his realm. While these journals  helped maintain order in Hades, they also helped him pick the appropriate costumes for his themed events celebrating the return of his queen. 

While the king of the underworld took pride in his extensive note taking abilities, his queen would laugh at them and call it his chicken scrawl. Every time she glanced over his documents, it almost seemed like she was making it a point to distract him endlessly with her sunkissed fingers gliding over the papers dotted and scratched with ink. Every movement of hers smelled of spring, ever changing, floral, fruity, ripe enough to take a juicy bite. The anticipation of her arrival make Taekwoon feel like a pining young fool and not Kronos and Rhea's eldest 

Taekwoon wondered if he should have fed her more pomegranate seeds all those centuries ago.

The door behind him creaked open and warmth flooded into the room. Taekwoon had to bite back a groan. Even after centuries of the same cycle of events, he could still feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Eight months always felt far too long. It was this longing that gnawed at him as he scribbled his notes, passed his judgements, and rolled his eyes at his promiscuous brothers. The loneliness he had felt for the past eight months flew away as Minah’s silken skin came in contact with his. The goddess of spring wrapped her arms around her husband, burying her face into his broad back.

Human’s often described love as fireworks or thunderbolts, but Taekwoon believed that thunderbolts were more of Jaehwan’s domain. Love with Minah was smooth ambrosia, spring rains, and the calm of elysium. 

“Hello darling,” she mumbled into his back, inhaling deeply and Taekwoon closed his eyes, delighting in the sound of her voice. “Cerby knocked me over at the gates, demanding that I give him some love, would you forgive me for being late?” Minah added lacing her fingers with her husband’s. 

Taekwoon turned in her arms and looked down at her from his imposing height. His wife, dressed in an evening gown of flowers embroidered on light orange organza with a dipping neckline and a high empire waist, gazed at him with adoration. The king of the underworld was convinced that spring had arrived in the depths of the earth.

“You look so handsome,” she said with a smile, standing on the tips of her toes to kiss his chin. Taekwoon fought the urge to smile in absolute delight but Minah didn’t miss the slight upward curve of his lip as his arms pulled her closer. Pressing another kiss to his chin, she continued “And I love this year's theme! How did you think of a regency era theme?” 

Sanghyuk had mentioned in passing that Minah was going through her “reading human books to pass the time,” phase. He had specifically dropped the name “Jane Austen” resulting in Taekwoon searching for the author’s soul to do his research for this very moment. Not that he’d ever let Minah know. 

"Just came to mind," he replied, giving her a squeeze "I'm glad it did," he added, looking her up and down, pretending he didn't see the flush creeping up her neck. Tucking a curling strand of hair behind her ear, he pressed his lips against her forehead. Was it possible to hold her closer?  Gripping her by the waist, he sank down onto the plush velvet maroon couch she had brought for him from the human realm a decade ago. She squealed in delight as he settled her on his lap, burying her head into his neck, filling his senses with that oh-so-familiar scent that drove him up the walls. 

“Taekwoon, we’re going to be late!” she complained, trying to ignore his fingers drawing loving patterns on her arms. The organza gown slightly crushed with her position on his lap, but she supposed it could be forgiven. They’d be forgiven if they were a little delayed. Just a few more seconds of being with this young and loving Taekwoon before he wore his older, much more serious mask at the banquet. Fiddling with his cravat, she breathed him in. Old books and ink pots, a slightly metallic earthy smell that encompassed her with warmth and a heat that reached her very core. 

I could ruin his cravat and no one would say a thing she thought playfully as her fingers worked on the fabric around his neck. His own hands slid up and down her sides as he pressed a trail of kisses from her ear to her chin. 

A raucous roar and the booming of drums resounded in the palace causing the Queen of the Underworld to frown. The King of the Gods did not require any permission to start any events in his own brother’s realm. As much as she would have liked her return to the underworld to be a celebration between herself and her husband, the other gods insisted on blowing all of these out of proportion. Wonshik, the god of wine making more often than not benefited from such events, not that the gods really needed excuses for ritual inebriation and ecstasy. 

Minah’s idea of ecstasy involved being in her husband's arms. In his chambers. For the next four months. Thank you very much.

“It appears that Wonshik has gotten Jaehwan sufficiently inebriated.” Taekwoon broke the silence. Minah nodded; her husband was right. If the King of the Skies was drunk, most of the participants would also be intoxicated.

 “Which means that we can make our way to the banquet halls at leisure. No one would even know we are missing,” there was a dangerous twinkle in his eyes that made Minah swoon while his hands which had been on her waist now slid dangerously lower. 

“I missed you,” she mumbled into his neck, pressing her lips against his shoulder as warmth bloomed in his heart. Taekwoon shifted gently to grasp at the flesh of her derriere. He found it adorable as to how she jolted in surprise curled up against him like a cat as her fingers curled up into his hair, drawing him closer till their noses touched. Taekwoon didn’t remember the last time he had felt so warm. Their breaths mingled and their gazes locked. 

Taekwoon exhaled her name, hand sliding under the crumpled fabric of her gown, grazing her calf and the sensitive skin behind her knee. Every touch seemed to unravel a new heady scent of spring from her. Closing his eyes, he followed the trail of her scent, the tip of his sharp nose tickled her skin. 

Was it peaches?

“Taekwoon!” she exclaimed when he nipped at the skin behind her ear feeling him smirk against her. She gasped as her husband nipped his way down her neck, grateful that the low cut of her gown allowed him access to her warm brown skin. He grunted when her fingers tightened in his hair, mentally vowing that he was going to cancel all banquets in the future and simply spend the meagre four months with his wife in his chambers. All these centuries in the cold underworld could not put a cool on his passions for his wife.

Minah could feel her husband leaving a trail of fire on her neck, pressing bruising kisses lower and lower on her skin as his hands wandered and caressed every inch of flesh under her gown. A particularly rough bite at the junction of her neck and shoulder had her shuddering in his arms. Pulling her king upright, she gasped against his lips, feverishly pressing them against each other. She felt him smile against her lips before trailing his teeth over her lower lip, until his tongue tangled with hers sending a shiver down her spine as she whimpered into his mouth. Her hands dropped from his hair to grab at the brown coat he wore.

How she had yearned for him over eight months. Minah tugged at the coat, trying to feel his warmth through the thin fabric of the shirt underneath. Taekwoon’s hands went slack when she delicately sucked on his lower lip.

“Let’s stay in the chambers Minah,” he groaned, arms going under her rear to haul her closer to him, dragging his lips over hers as their hips glided over each other. She tasted like plum wine with the potency of ambrosia and Taekwoon was a man whose thirst seemed to have no end. Swallowing her cries, he drank her in. 

A second, louder boom echoed through a palace startling his wife as she unceremoniously fell on her bottom. Taekwoon stared at her dishevelled form, springing to his feet to help her up. Minah giggled as he swept her into his arms worriedly.

“Where is the ruler of Hades?” Jaehwan’s voice boomed authoritatively, making the goddess of fertility click her tongue as she gripped her husband’s hand. For being the youngest son of Kronos, Jaehwan could be an absolute pain. Taekwoon pressed his lips to Minah's knuckles, eyeing her crumpled gown and swollen lips.

“I suppose we need to go,” she grumbled, trying to fix her appearance to the best of her ability. To Taekwoon, his wife was glowing. Interlacing their fingers he sighed.

“I suppose we do need to go and play host.” He said, tugging her reluctant form towards the door before leaning closer to her ear and giving it a nip that made her squeal “but darling, we’ll be back.”

[thatmpdblog]

This was the first night that you would spend over at Leo’s place and you’d almost cancelled because you were overthinking everything at first. But, seeing his eyes light up and his beautiful, shy smile once he opened the door made all doubt fly out the window. You were now seated on the couch cuddling up and watching TV after you had not seen each other for a couple of weeks and to be honest, the movie wasn’t that interesting. So you chomped him on the arm that was wrapped around you, which was fine because the two of you were used to randomly chomping each other’s arms and shoulders. 

“Ah- jagi s-stop it, let us watch the movie.” he said with a short laugh.

“But I’m borrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeed,” 

another chomp 

“and besides you taste good.” Leo chuckled, calling you a weirdo but you could see him blushing slightly. “You look cute when you’re flustered.” you said with a giggle and ruffled Leo’s hair as you watched the colour reach as far as his ears while he hid behind his hands.

“Stop distracting and watch the movie or I will chomp you back.” Leo said teasingly, having recovered from his flustered state. But in as much as you heard his words, they had not registered because you were distracted by how beautiful his silky smooth shoulder length black hair looked. It seemed to sway gracefully with his every move and your hand seemed to move on its own as it made its way to his hair and your fingers ran through the silky threads all the way down to his neck then back up again. 

“You have very beautiful hair.”

chomp

You were snapped out of your trance by the sudden sensation of warmth and teeth on your shoulder and you yelped softly, more from shock than pain at the slight pinch.

“Pay attention.”

“No. I missed you, and this movie is boring.” 

chomp

“Ah, no more biting. After this one.” Leo said as he bit you again, this time along the crook of your neck, and neither of you were prepared for that. You weren’t expecting him to bite you there and he wasn’t expecting the soft cry that left your now parted lips. 

“Y/N. I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” You stammered a quick no and saw his face change from concern to curiosity and then a bit of shock. “Wait, Jagi. You like being bitten?” he asked seemingly genuinely perplexed and you nodded, having realized that you hadn’t told him about your biting kink. His eyes darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It never came up, and I thought you’d judge me.”

“Why would I? You made such a beautiful sound just then. I would do anything to hear it again,” and with that he bit into that exact spot again, making you moan loudly. “Jagi,” he said softly through kisses to the now sensitive spot

“Yes, Leo?”

He gave your neck another soft kiss, then leaned closer to you ear and said, “I want to make you mine tonight.”

You whimpered, already feeling your core heating up at his words.

“I want to see your body’s reaction to my every touch,”

kiss

“...every thrust,”

kiss

“...every move.”

kiss 

“I want to look deep into your eyes,”

kiss

“...and hear your every soft cry,”

kiss

“...loud moan,”

kiss

“...and whimper.”

kiss

Then, pulling you on top of him, Leo slid his hand down your body and into your now very wet underwear and, slowly moving against your now aching core, softly growled into your ear,

“You have no idea what you just did. I hope that you will be able to handle what’s going to happen.”

[witchakyeon]

❧ Honey | Xiuleo Oneshot

“Do you consider yourself attractive?”

Taekwoon rolled his eyes dramatically and set his wine glass on the coffee table. “Of course I do. Are we looking at the same thing?”

Minseok lifted his eyes from his cell phone and snickered, which made Taekwoon snicker, and before they knew it, they were laughing so hard their stomachs were sore.

“You’re a narcissist!”

“I am not! Don’t blame me for taking pride in my appearance!”

“That’s exactly what a narcissist would say!”

“Fine,” Taekwoon chuckled as he ran a hand through his messy curls. “I’ll let you answer this one for me, then. Do you think I’m attractive?”

Read the rest here 🧡 2022 Prompt Collection My AO3

[squeallywrites]

My Emperor Ch.8

You hadn’t had much interaction with Hakyeon, but goddamn is he terrifying when he is on a mission. Granted he is the royal family’s secretary, so making the palace run smoothly is his job. Still it didn’t help calm the bundle of nerves settling in the pit of your stomach as you raced back to the palace.

Right as Ravi plops you down, your eyes met Ju-ang’s, who raises an eyebrow as you try to make yourself presentable. You turn to Ravi, ready to ask him about what happened back there but he cuts you off.

“We’ll talk when Hakyeon is done.”

Your eyes narrow, “Only if I’m allowed to stay.”

“Either way, there isn’t time.”

He escorts you and Ju-ang to the main lounge where all the other girls are waiting. Quite a few of them had annoyed looks on their face like how dare their time be wasted like this and others were quietly talking with each other. A couple of girls shot death glares at you, no doubt because of your nightgown but oh well. At least it was one of your nicer ones.

The door slams open, two guards rushing to their positions on each side of the doorway as Hakyeon gracefully strode forth, clapping his hands to grab everyone’s attention.

“Listen up, if I call your name, you are to step forward and form a line.”

Your hands begin to shake as you watch one after one walk up to stand in front of the man. Then he stopped and took a moment to glance amongst them.

“All thirty-six of you are dismissed. The Crown Prince has decided that you may return to your respective kingdoms.”

Oh shit that’s most of the group. You and Ju-ang share a look, both shocked and relieved that you both got to stay.

“Now, if you may, go collect your—“

“I’ll take it from here,” Jisoo, the Queen Dowager’s high matron interjects. You didn’t even hear her come in, “By orders of the Queen Dowager.”

“Very well.” Maybe it was just you, but Hakyeon seemed to get rather tense with this order as he gave her a slight bow. She turns to the women, “Gather your things, We’ll make preparations for your journey home, but you are not stay in this building any longer. We have a guest home that will serve as your in-between home for now.”

Why did that not sit well with you?

“The rest of you, go about your regular business.”

Then Hakyeon’s bright red eyes fell upon you, “Why aren’t you properly dressed?”

You looked down at the robe that you had through over your nightgown earlier that morning, “I wanted to see the sunrise, sir. I simply lost track of time…” You quickly lied.

Hakyeon stares at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything before discussing something with the guards at the doorway. Ravi taps on your shoulder and gestures for you to return to your room. As soon as you were beyond earshot of everyone else, you turned to him, “Why was Leo there?”

“He’s a friend of Hyuk’s.”

“So? What could he do to help? He’s just a hu—“

“I got Hongbin’s message but I was swamped. Figured I’d run into you and ask. What’s going on?”

Your eyes widen as you turned to see Hakyeon with a very concerned expression on his face. Ravi sighs heavily, “You’re not going to like it, hyung.”

“Then spit it out.”

“Y/N saw Hyuk drain Sarah of the British Isles.”

“Fuck, I’ll need to bring this,” his eyes shift between you and Ravi, “to the prince’s attention. He won’t be too happy to hear about this.”

“He already knows. She went to Hongbin’s this morning. That’s how we found out.” Ravi, the little shit, ratted you out.

“Certainly explains the nightgown. In any case, at least I don’t have to deal with his anger. His mother is already more than I can handle.”

You looked between the two, confused. Yeah you heard rumours about the Queen Dowager, but nothing definitive. Especially relating to anything about the upcoming wedding.

“Can you explain to me exactly why she’s more than you can handle? I’ve only heard rumours about her from the other girls.”

Hakyeon stared at you like you just grew another head and then it grew its own second head.

“H-How—?”

“She’s not from this universe,” Ravi rushes out under his breath. He looks at you, eyes telling you he’s sorry. The secretary pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a deep breath.

“The Queen Dowager has been ruling the Empire ever since His Majesty passed away unexpectedly when the Crown Prince was 16. She has basically trapped him in his study forcing him to learn nonsense upon nonsense in order to become Emperor. The wedding is her latest stunt. She specifically choose to invite unfavourable women. Those that had been spoiled a little too much by their parents, but I was the one who opened the call to other families.”

“Hence why I’m here…in a way.”

“Yes. It was an attempt to throw her off, which worked for a little bit, but I fear she’s gaining her footing again. She has more than half the council on her side since she has been keeping the economy strong.”

Ravi groans, “She’s getting harder to touch. Prince Taekwoon won’t like this.”

You swear you see the corner of Hakyeon’s lip curl up slightly.

“No, he won’t.”

“Perhaps there’s something in her study? Or her room?”

The men exchange a look before turning back to you.

“Perhaps, but for now, try now to draw attention to yourself. With less potential brides around, actions are more noticeable.”

You nod solemnly.

“By the way, why were you at Hongbin’s so early in the morning?”

You stumble over your words, “I-I wanted to know more about vampires and since I thought he was the only one that knew I wasn’t from around..here..that he wouldn’t judge me for not knowing.”

Ravi places a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, we won’t make fun of you. Also, there are five of us that know you’re not from here. Hongbin’s shit at keeping secrets from us. But seriously, you can ask us anytime.”

“Thank you.” That probably the first smile you had since that night happened, but now…now your world is crumbling in on itself and you’ve barely seen Leo enough to keep you grounded.

[hyacinthlea]

UPDATE : WONTAEK DRABBLE COLLECTION

Title: Time stills, midnight wish

Rating: G

WC: 1.4k

|-one-sided love (sort of) / operation proposal au (ish) / unexplained magic-|

A/N: a new update on my wontaek collection ♡ mind you~ don't be scared of the fact that it says one sided love--it has a solution I promise lol

//Wonshik sighs, it hasn't even been an hour since he last saw Taekwoon-- and what a sight it had been.

On: ao3

[chronicfangirling]

KDA In Excelsis: Intro Feat.: The King’s Avatar AU, CEO!Hakyeon, Gamer!Hongbin Pairing: VIXX x OCs Premise: Choi Sooyeon idolizes former pro-gamer Cha Hakyeon, and joins his team, Hundred Blossoms, as their battle simulation programmer. Her ultimate goal is to help him win the championship and best his long-time rival, Jung Taekwoon. But first, she must gain the approval of finicky captain Lee Hongbin, deal with crazy jealous bitches, and avoid the tricks of the pretty, petty gamers. A/N: Uses the TKA-verse, but with a different story. It’s a gaming AU, but nothing too technical mostly nerds flirting with each other.

[k-fiction-therapy]

~*.*..*Let Me Hear Your Voice…*..*.*~