#the gays are gonna come out oh my goddd… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delphi-shield · 3 months ago

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i was gonna comment on this when I got home but I couldn't stop rotating this fic in my mind after rereading it again so im doing this on my lunch break instead lmao.

It was sweet. Ashley had kissed boys before, but never a girl. Jill’s lips were softer, not just in their composition or the way they sat on her face, but the way she kissed. It was nicer. Ashley was so engrossed in the kiss that she almost didn’t notice Jill’s hand on her cheek. The kiss probably would’ve lasted longer if they weren’t being gawked at by two men, and maybe ten more if you included the agents patrolling the area.

sorry im on mobile this might look wonky-- anyway!! love this fic so much.

She hadn’t heard of other sexualities before. It was 2004. It wasn’t like people talked about those things openly, not even on popular parts of the internet. Where was she supposed to read about bisexuality, pansexuality, asexuality, and the like? The gay newspaper? Ashley didn’t read the news. She barely had time for her own life, let alone anyone else’s.

this is really important to me and it's one of the things i like about this fic (and most of your fics tbh) the most. while i understand the appeal of fics where characters are gay and no one bats an eye, where everyone is secure in their sexuality and it's not a source of stress and i think those are valuable and important, i really prefer when authors grapple with the reality of being queer, especially in the early-mid aughts. i think the end result winds up being much more engaging and its got more stick-with-you. even without getting super deep into it, without delving into angst about it, i really feel like this bit of realism & stepping back to look at the time period and the characters logically adds a lot to this fic.

This holiday season she would not be followed around by reporters because the Secret Service was ordered to keep them away from her. Yeah, it’d suck to be surrounded by a group of men with a grouchy disposition, but at least they didn’t talk. They were practically allergic to conversation.

there was a lot to unpack in here but I bolded my favorite lines so as not to fill this comment with me just going "AHHH". love love love how much characterization you're able to pack in here for ashley. your writing here is very efficient - which i mean in a positive way, im a big fan of economical prose.

also oh my goddd I could go on about your use of the secret service in this fic. i don't know if it was intentional or not but they make a fantastic metaphor for comphet. i really enjoyed the occasional reminder that theyre still there, still watching, even as ashley is exploring her identity.

L: “You’re in luck :)”

A: “XD”

Ashley then had to go on to explain to Leon the concept of XD and XP. They didn’t cover that in all the paramilitary training he’d gone through.

canon to me tbh. ashley really is an xD enjoyer. idk i want to introduce her to kaomojis, i think she'd die.

“Hey Ashley. You look great tonight.”

“Thanks. It’s Versace.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I take it it’s expensive.”

honestly I don't have anything intelligent to say about this exchange i just wanted to point out that i liked it. Ashley's def the kind of person to get a compliment and go 'omg thanksss it's [brand]' and Chris has got big 'ok 💛 yay 💛' energy here.

The moment Leon turned away to retrieve her refill, Ashley said, “You’re really pretty, Jill. I mean, your dress, it’s really pretty. I like it.”

this is suuuch a cute little moment to me, i like how you've written Ashley's fluster and i love her using her status to show Jill around and kind of show off. Idk ashley really feels like she would try to like flex her status when she's flirting if that makes sense?? so offering to show jill around and being like "I can get us in >:3" felt very her.

And I also love what's essentially your case for Jill/Ashley! ashley doesn't have a ton of people to talk to about her experience, certainly not people who get it, and tbh, yeah, leon's pretty tight-lipped about it whereas i don't think jill has anywhere near that level of reticence to talk. idk jill's very action-oriented, and leon's prone to sitting and stewing in all the bad shit so while i think jill's eager to offer a shoulder she's also prone to withholding on her own end -- anyway. this ain't about them. what i'm saying is i really enjoyed the case you made for jill/ashley lmfao.

this is THE paragraph in the entire fic to me. she's that girl. idk I think there's something special about your first kiss with a woman, especially when you're coming into your own identity and accepting your feelings. I think this really captures it succinctly and beautifully.

and omg theres my besties the secret service mentioned again, hiiii. i really love the persistent reminders that they're being monitored as well. again, i don't know if it's what you intended but it really does add a lot to this portrayal to me.

there's a lot of little details about this fic that I love tbh, but especially jill's hesitance to chat ashley up at the beginning. idk the fear of seeming predatory is so real and like you didn't have to spell it out, it just kind of clicked. I would devour any wlw fic from you tbh.

make the yuletide gay

pairings: ashley graham/jill valentine, leon kennedy/chris redfield

cw: everyone is gay :), fluff!

summary: jill is ashley's gay awakening

ao3 link

The first time Ashley met Jill was at one of those galas that posed itself as something celebratory but was really intended for diplomacy and networking. As the president’s daughter, her presence was often requested by her father at such events. She wasn’t a part of any government agency, so it wasn’t like anyone would find her attendance beneficial in any meaningful capacity, but it was good for her father’s image. It made him look like a family man. Not that he wasn’t a family man. He was just busy. Ashley made an attempt to attend these things for the most part in the hopes of gaining her father’s respect or at least, his attention. She knew there were only a few routes to her parents’ praise and this was one of them.

On top of that, Leon was going to be there, and she hadn’t seen him since Spain. When she’d thanked him on Ada’s jetski while they watched the island go up in flames, he’d said “don’t mention it”, but she was definitely going to mention it every time she saw him for as long as it took her to properly express her gratitude. Her infinite gratitude. Ashley assumed that Leon didn’t like her based on his standoffishness, but when she’d approached him about it soon after they’d made it stateside, he told her that he just wasn’t really an affectionate person. He learned to accept her hugs slowly, but surely over the years.

As it turned out, the brooding air he carried was typical of most anti-bioterrorism agents. That late-2004 night Ashley met other agents from the DSO and the soon-to-be BSAA, not that she knew much about either organization. Most of the agents were male - the strong, hardened type. People that could realistically kill her in one punch. She was constantly watching her back after Spain, so she felt safer knowing that she had dozens of Leons in the room.

There was one agent that would put all others to shame: Jill Valentine. The coolest of cool. All of the men around her were either infatuated with or terrified by her, sometimes both. Ashley personally just admired her. Her confidence, her power, her beauty.

Ashley went for a stylish little number that night, wearing a designer dress that cost more than most people’s rent for the month, but still, she was not on Jill’s level. It was nothing to do with money or prestige because Ashley, as the president’s daughter, had more wealth and status than she knew what to do with. It was about coolness - an intangible, ineffable quality.

Leon introduced the pair with the typical “Ashley this is Jill, Jill this is Ashley”, and Jill went in for the handshake, not a hug like most of the women in the room. Most of the women weren’t Jill, though, they were all somebody’s wife or somebody’s daughter, but Jill was somebody. She bridged the seemingly impossible gap between woman and operative with a feminine chivalry in her handshake.

“Jill seems so cool,” Ashley remarked to Leon once they were alone again.

“Yeah,” Leon said, not quite as fixated.

Leon knew the look in Ashley’s eyes way before she did.

“Looks like someone has a crush,” he teased.

“What?”

“You’re staring at her, Ash. I wouldn’t be surprised if cartoon hearts replaced your eyes.”

“Shut up!”

Yeah, Ashley was blushing, but it wasn’t because Leon had actually clocked her. It was just an embarrassing thing for him to point out even if it was false. Which it was.

Then again, when she mulled over the night in her mind that night, Leon’s comment refused to leave Ashley’s head.

I’m not a lesbian. I like guys, so I don’t have a crush on her, she thought, I can’t have a crush on her.

It wasn’t that Ashley was homophobic. In fact, many of her friends from school were gay and she’d gone to the pride parade in DC that past June. She wouldn’t have a problem accepting herself if she were a lesbian. But she was pretty confident that she wasn’t.

The holidays were coming up, and if you know anything about America, you know that Christmas at the White House is a big deal. December is basically a month-long party. When she’s not being held up by the press or forced into a photo-op, the parties can actually be kind of fun. Ashley’s the kind of girl who communicates only by Christmas carol beginning December 1st. Initially, it seemed like the 2004 holiday season was not going to be so cheery. Every news outlet needed their fix of “post-Spain president’s daughter is A-OK” content. But since she’d gotten home, Ashley’s father had become more protective of her, maybe out of guilt, or maybe out of love. This holiday season she would not be followed around by reporters because the Secret Service was ordered to keep them away from her. Yeah, it’d suck to be surrounded by a group of men with a grouchy disposition, but at least they didn’t talk. They were practically allergic to conversation.

Leon texted Ashley to let her know that he’d be coming to one of the many, many celebrations planned for that December, to which she replied without thinking, “Do you know if Jill’s coming?”

L: “I don’t know. Do you want me to ask her?”

She could hear Leon’s teasing tone through the words on her screen.

A: “No!”

L: “Okay.”

A: “I mean, you can if you want, but don’t tell her I asked.”

A few minutes went by before she received another message from Leon.

L: “You’re in luck :)”

A: “XD”

Ashley then had to go on to explain to Leon the concept of XD and XP. They didn’t cover that in all the paramilitary training he’d gone through.

As soon as Leon made it to the party, Ashley was gushing to him about Jill, not that she’d admit it was “gushing”. Ashley went on and on while Leon sipped his champagne in relative silence. Free champagne was always the best tasting. It might have been the alcohol giving him a buzz, but he did start to feel a little bit warm inside listening to Ashley’s ramblings.

Little did either of them know, Jill was having a similar discussion with Chris across the room.

“She’s totally into you,” Chris insisted.

“Really? You think?” Jill tried not to stare, but it was hard not to when Ashley was twirling around the room with tinsel lighting up her hair.

“Everyone’s into you. You’re like the most badass woman ever.”

“I think you might be projecting your thoughts onto ‘everyone’, but thanks for calling me a badass, I guess.”

Jill patted Chris, her personal cheerleader, on the back.

When Ashley left Leon’s side for a moment to talk to whoever had just arrived - Leon was exhausted and not really paying much attention to names - Chris approached him with a conspiratorial look on his face.

Chris looked around the room to see if anyone was listening to their conversation before leaning closer to Leon casually to whisper, “Ashley’s totally into Jill, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Leon confirmed, “but she won’t admit it.”

“Jill’s convinced that Ashley’s straight, so she won’t go, you know, chat her up.”

“Even Ashley herself is convinced that she’s straight.”

From afar they probably looked like they were chatting about women they wished they were man enough to hit on, whispering and pointing vaguely at the two girls. No one would know that they were matchmakers in the making.

Ashley returned to Leon’s side, forcing the two men to put their conversation on hold.

“Hi Chris,” Ashley said with a smile.

“Hey Ashley. You look great tonight.”

“Thanks. It’s Versace.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I take it it’s expensive.”

“Very.”

Jill, who’d gotten caught up at the bar ‘mingling’ with some government officials, rejoined the group. Chris took her by the shoulder, pulling her into the conversation.

“Leon and I are going to go get another round. Do you ladies want anything?” Chris asked.

“Just got a brand new one myself, so I’m good, thanks,” Jill responded, holding up her full champagne flute.

“Ooh. Can you get me another one of these?” Ashley asked, thrusting her glass at Leon.

“What is it?” He looked at the pinkish remnants of liquid contemplating its contents.

“Just tell the bartender ‘it’s for Ashley Graham’ and he’ll know.”

Ashley, herself, wasn’t quite sure of the exact recipe, though it tasted like it had more than a hint of grenadine in it.

The moment Leon turned away to retrieve her refill, Ashley said, “You’re really pretty, Jill. I mean, your dress, it’s really pretty. I like it.”

Ashley’s cheeks were pink, realizing that she’d said something a bit more flirtatious than she’d intended. The drink must’ve had more alcohol than she’d thought because she was already making a complete fool out of herself, or so it seemed. It was true, though, that Jill’s dress was really pretty, a subtle blue, that complemented her blue-gray eyes, eyes which Ashley was trying not to get lost in.

“Thanks. I wanted to wear a pantsuit originally, but I was told a dress would be more ‘festive’.”

“You could totally rock a suit.”

“You seem to have a good handle on what’s fashionable these days, so I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

“I just read a lot of Cosmo and Elle, you know.”

Jill nodded, pretending to know about fashion magazines.

“Have you seen the Blue Room yet?” Ashley asked, hoping an exclusive White House tour would be enough to impress her.

“No, I haven’t. Are we allowed back there?” Jill didn’t care much about Christmas decorations, but if she got to spend time with Ashley, then she could pretend to be interested in whatever Ashley liked for a little while.

“I am,” Ashley said proudly.

“Is this an offer for a behind-the-scenes tour of the White House?”

“Yeah, I can even show you the Oval Office if you want.”

Ashley looked back at one of the Secret Service members behind her who only glared back.

“Okay. Maybe not the Oval Office,” Ashley said. Then, leaning over, in a whisper, “They’re a little on edge tonight.”

“Who?”

“Secret service. Otherwise, I could probably convince them.”

“Are they following you around?”

“Yeah, my dad doesn’t want any reporters hounding me about Spain, and neither do I.”

“That makes sense. People don’t really take into account how traumatic an experience like that can be and don’t even realize how insensitive it is to constantly be asking questions.”

Jill followed Ashley out of the ballroom, completely forgetting about the men they’d left at the bar. Who needs men when you’re getting a tour of the White House from the president’s daughter who is almost impossibly beautiful. Along with her designer dress, Ashley was also wearing tinsel in her hair and a necklace of battery-powered string lights. It was actually quite fitting that she’d put a flashing rainbow on around her neck. If her actions didn’t say ‘I’m gay’, her accessories sure did. Jill would’ve thought the ensemble looked tacky on anyone else, but Ashley managed to make it look festive, maybe even avant-garde. Though, fashion terms weren’t her area of expertise.

In the corridor, Ashley turned to face Jill, “They put all these articles in the news saying how happy they are that the president’s daughter is home safe, but they don’t even treat me like a human being when they talk about me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. After Raccoon City, I remember constantly being asked questions about everything that happened, and I couldn’t even remember most of it. I passed out for days,” Jill said, trying to be sympathetic without raining on everyone’s parade.

Ashley’s holiday spirit surprised, yet delighted Jill. Knowing what Ashley went through, she would’ve expected her to be bitter or closed-off, but she retained this vibrance and sweetness that was charming.

“Wow. I don’t know that much about Raccoon City. Leon brought it up once, but he didn’t say much, and I didn’t want to ask him.”

“Yeah. There's solidarity between all of us who went through stuff like this. A silent solidarity, but it’s there. Especially silent on Leon’s end.”

Ashley had gotten to know Leon well over the course of those past few months, and yet, he was still a mystery in many ways.

“He’s definitely the quiet type. Sometimes I wanna open up to him about the whole thing, you know, Spain, but I’m sure he’s the last person that wants to talk about it.”

“If you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, I’m always here for you.”

“Really? That’s so sweet of you.”

“Of course. I’ll give you my number.”

Ashley couldn’t help but notice how the hundreds of lights strung around the blue rooms’ Christmas tree reflected off Jill’s face, how she glowed, how she was far more beautiful than the angel that took its place on the top branch of the tree. There was a moment of peaceful silence where she stretched out her pinky finger, not even realizing what she was doing until she felt the tip of Jill’s pinky touch her own. Similar to the moment before someone kisses you, where it becomes inevitable, the slow rush of butterflies to the stomach, but with an added tenderness, a sense of sweet innocence.

Leon and Chris appeared near the entrance to the room, but were stopped by a Secret Service member. Ashley had to step in with a, “they’re with me”, before the two men were allowed to be within 100 feet of her.

Chris, ever the opportunist, spotted an ornament on one of the many Christmas trees in the room, and swiped it. It was mistletoe shaped. He dangled it above Ashley and Jill, causing Ashley to blush and leaving Jill to be the one to initiate the kiss.

Jill deftly snatched the mistletoe from Chris’ hand and dangled it over him and Leon. Chris seemed surprisingly receptive to the idea, but Leon, on the other hand, looked a bit nervous. He cleared his throat and tried to hide the pink rising in his cheeks.

Hey, at least the blood wasn’t going anywhere else in his body, right?

Ashley held in her giggles while she watched the event unfold. Jill continued to hang it over them both, letting them know there was no way out.

“C’mon Leon,” Chris said.

Leon rolled his eyes, but he seemed to enjoy the kiss he and Chris shared.

Jill and Ashley were caught in their own little world, barely paying attention to either of the men, when they rejoined the conversation. They both slowly retreated once they realized they weren’t going to receive the attention of either of the women.

“Do you think they’re offended that we were ignoring them?” Ashley asked.

“No,” Jill said, “I think they get it.”

Get what? Ashley thought.

Jill’s lips were on hers again and she understood ‘what’.

At some point, the two noticed guests beginning to file out at a more rapid rate - people always came and went, but now the party was wrapping up. Jill looked at the clock and realized how late it was.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

“Right. I should get going, but I hope I get the chance to see you again soon.”

It sounded like a question that Ashley didn’t know how to respond to except with a ‘yes, absolutely, please and thank you”.

She said, “Yes, I have your number, so I’ll call you, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

Pulling away from their goodbye hug, Ashley kissed Jill on the cheek without really thinking about it. Luckily, before she had the chance to be embarrassed, Jill kissed her back.

Jill was leaving the room when she turned back to Ashley and said, “If you see Chris, tell him I left. He follows me around like a lost dog sometimes, so I don’t want him to get confused and end up roaming the halls for the next few hours.”

“Will do,” Ashley said with a smile.

She did start to wonder where Chris and Leon were. She hadn’t seen them in quite a while. Since most people had left, her security loosened her leash a bit, and let her wander off on her own to some extent. She eventually found Leon and Chris making out in an otherwise empty room. As much as she thought Jill might like that story, she was sworn to secrecy.

#fic recs #jill valentine x ashley graham

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prince-simon · 2 years ago

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Do you have a favorite situation and quote, saying from wilmon in prince simon au?

this is the hardest question you could've asked oh my goddd but okay i'm gonna go with a couple of my faves:

this part of wille's letter to simon:

I love you in all the languages I do not know, in all the languages long lost. In all the words never spoken between two people who wanted to shout them.

and the repetition of those words when simon is broken and traumatised:

Wilhelm’s heart broke even more if that was even possible. “I love you in all the languages I don’t know,” he whispered, holding Simon’s face in both hands. “You know I do, right? Always,” he assured him, gaze unwavering on Simon’s watery eyes.

the sandwich declaration:

There was a soft blush on Simon’s cheeks, his voice gentle when he said, “Listen, Wille, I know this isn’t easy for you and that you need time. I just- wanted to make my feelings and intentions clear. I’m ready whenever you are.” Wilhelm was at a loss for words so Simon barged on, “You don’t have to say anything, I understand. But please just let me know if I make you uncomfortable with anything I say or do, okay?” “Why?” Simon furrowed his brow. “Why do I want you to be honest with me?” He asked, confused. Wilhelm shook his head. “Why do you like me like that?” He wanted to know, completely dumbfounded. He was an absolute mess, definitely not worth a grand romantic declaration over fucking sandwiches. “Why are you so patient?” Simon smiled, brushing his hair out of his face. “Because you’re worth it, little prince.” The certainty in his voice nearly killed Wilhelm. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. Wilhelm wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs but there was the nagging voice of Queen Kristina at the back of his mind, reminding him how she’d made him promise he’d never be involved in a gay scandal again. “Simon…” Wilhelm breathed, because he was the only certainty Wilhelm knew.

this moment before wille returns to sweden:

Saying goodbye was torture. When Wilhelm woke up that morning, it was nose to nose with Simon, whose eyes were already open, flickering across his face. “Abrázame,” he whispered, turning around to face the other way. Wilhelm’s heart was pounding. He was going off context clues and what he himself wanted, when he gingerly wrapped his arms around Simon, pressing his nose into Simon’s neck. A shuddering breath escaped Simon’s lips as he scooted that little bit closer to Wilhelm, and Wilhelm held him tighter.

any time simon tells kristina how little he likes her but especially this:

Simon shuffled around a little, careful not to jostle Wilhelm or put a strain on his ribs. He interrupted her, perfectly calmly, “Listen, Your Majesty, I don’t like you a whole lot. But I do like your son, who, by the way, for the first time in days is sleeping right now. I don’t know if you’ve noticed. So, why don’t you put your energy into being there for Erik and praying that he’s going to wake up again, instead of making borderline homophobic comments towards me. I’ve already been hate-crimed this week, I’d appreciate the break.” “Hom- excuse me? I’m not-“ “I was done talking to you, ma’am,” Simon said coolly, subsequently ignoring the spluttering Queen.

and this line bc i love my dumb baby boy:

“I’ll have you know,” Simon snorted, “Sucking dick can come straight from the heart.”

What are y'all's fave scenes/quotes? 💗

#prince simon au #young royals #i could probably quote so much more #bc this story means everything to me #but here you are lol #ask #anon

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crimsonandcloverwrites · 3 years ago

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ok bhah ch11 my longest yeah boi ever

i’m literally... so excited I can’t even read it ok ok

oh no not the wedding invitations not this

i swear to god if we have to go through this wedding. knifeemoji

listen I have a fear that we’re gonna get the break up and the car accident same as canon dear god don’t put us through that either

no fears *literally everything that could make bhah more painful* several fears dot meme

god not the jamie invite. she cant even do it. another sign from god you are choosing to ignore

straight to Jamie’s house oh

lmao the red door I just worked out that’s a hill house reference from when I was wondering in like ch3(?) lol the inner workings of my dumbass brain never stop

“can we talk?” it’s happening what is happening

Dani was so tired of lying oh my god

my heart is literally beating so fast

alone in Jamie’s room bro wtf wtf

Jamie is just so soft and understanding always always aaaahhhhh

fuck she just wants out of this wedding so bad but she can’t even tell him

AAAHHH SHE KISSED HER OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING

fuck fgkjhdfkjgh this is not good oh no. Dani finally finally fucking doing something for herself and Jamie so aware that this cannot be happening like this right now

and yet both of them just falling into it anyway oh my goddddd

jesus christ jesus christ “Dani had half crawled into Jamie’s lap, kissing her with a fierce and fervent heat” I am on deaths door

god they’ve both wanted this for so so so so long I can’t believeeeeee

(i am so thrilled that y’all just went there right away btw)

“Please, just - I just want to feel how I’m supposed to.” oucchhhh Dani

god her just... knowing. after one kiss w Jamie that she can finally do it and talk to him and end it and it’s so terrifying but goddd yes

“You think I can ever say no to you?” oof

“Ask,” Jamie breathed. “Ask me.” fucking fuck the power of this line oh my god Jamie is so fucking ready to jump of a bridge for her it’s- the dedication the love the longing the everything I am going insane is it too early to start drinking at 1pm

you’re not you can’t NOT THE CANON DINER SCENE

fuck this is like watching a car crash i can’t look away it’s so fucking visceral and nerve-wracking and painful

but god I’m so proud of her for finally saying what she wants

oh thank fuck y’all didn’t take him out with a passing delivery truck

“You must have known. You know me.” oh god this sentiment always kills me

“She couldn’t say it — the words ‘I’m gay’ forever out of reach — so instead she said, “I can’t.”” my whole body is on fire oh my god this is.... too fucking real

jesus christ the near miss w the truck are u trying to kill me (i actually kind of love that Dani will have to deal w her feelings w him face to face instead of having to bury it all in grief like in canon I am so excited to see how y’all handle that)

a fucking HOUR in the car dfkjghdfkjh the torture

oh honey. literally both of them suffering so much ouch

her favourite saucepan pls this is all so awful and sad but that make me laugh so much the poor confused little duck I am glad she has her comforts

god poor Dani

"Is she here to cook something?" fgkjdhfkgjhfkjgdf

“No. I think you’re brave.” oh

“We’ll figure it out." listen listen I am undoubtedly losing my mind god this is soft

“She had spent so long being asked and not asking. Never asking. She never dared. To ask was to be known, to be made visible, words forging reality as surely as a smith’s hammer. And yet Jamie waited, letting Dani gather the courage herself.

"Can I -?" Dani said, "- stay?"” please fuck I am just so !!!!!!!! about Dani getting to know what she wants and having a fucking voice. just !!!!!!!!

“Jamie inviting her in” fucking just both of them finally getting some of that quiet courage w each other I am yelling so much

“Dani knew that it wasn't just her feeling this, that it had never just been her.” YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT BABEY

““But you do?” Dani asked. “Want to?”

Jamie’s answering laugh was brief and incredulous. “You have no idea.”” I AM: HOOTIN. AND: HOLLERIN

“I am here” hello? hello I am not coping I am on another plane of existence. DANI FINALLY FEELING SO PRESENT AND WHOLE IN THIS MOMENT

god they’re just holding each other i’m tearing up. Jamie is her home

Dani finally sleeping through the night ow my fucking heart

Mikey’s so chill about all of this sdkdhfdkj I love him

Jamie going out n buying her favourite jam... god the tenderness. love is stored in the strawberry jam and the hairdryer

hmmmmm her attraction to Jamie is so closely tied to a lot of really hard feelings this is gonna take a bit to work through huh???

aw Jamie going to Carson I am so happy she has her little band of gays to help her rn

I love that she can just kiss her now when she gets the urge like maybe chill out a lil just landing all these surprise kisses but like good for u girl. good for both of u

the warmth of the house hmmmmm I love that she’s found this esp because she is perpetually cold and Jamie is always warm but keeps it like that for the kid (and probably for Dani too) aaahhhh

cgjkdfhkjgh Dani is so thirsty poor Jamie trying to keep them in check. these moments are so fucking loaded holy shit

Dani Jamie and Mikey are the cuuutest lil family aw

god the tentativeness between them trying to figure this all out and the casual intimacy and just. all of it is so much and so beautiful to watch unfold

i love this little bubble inside Jamie’s house and Jamie kind of drawing the curtains around them both physically and metaphorically while she lets Dani figure things out and lets it settle between them

it’s all about the hands

oh my god Hannah instantly asking if she needs a place to stay she really is the best

soft little mornings with her Jamie like... once Dani finally defeats the ball of guilt in her chest there is so much goodness to look forward to and I am v glad she has that right now even as she is still struggling a bit. my girl needs all the sweetness in her life

also the idea of Jamie getting to wake up to sleeping Dani in her bed every morning after a lifetime of trying to repress her feelings... god

heh she’s already figuring out all the ways to push Jamie’s buttons god these two are going to have some fun w each other

this idea of learning the creaking floorboards of a new home is so... warm

Jamie leaving all the curtains drawn for her oh my heart keeping her safe keeping her safe

Nan would be so proud of ms Dani u know it’s true

awww Mikey comin home to keep her company

Mikey Dani time is always so sweet I love them

my god Dani n Jamie are so intense w each other and just so full of fucking desire... when those floodgates finally open will they even survive

oof Dani is dealing with soooo much ugh. Jamie always there with a gentle way to bring her back down to earth tho my hearrrtttt

“You’re allowed to be happy.” she is SHE IS ty Jamie Taylor voice of reason

a pinky promise to deal with everything together awwww

“why are you so good to me” “you know why” oh my goddddddd. that’s so soft that’s so gentle that’s so much love

Dani finding little bits in herself in media god i love this

Dani Mikey hours best hours

god Carson... sweet boy. And Judy sending over a whole bunch of food oof just. these quiet little reminders of their love for her. Dani’s about to go through a whole bunch more emotions huh?

fkjdfkjgfh Mikey going into protector mode when Carson is there pls i love hm

ohmy “our room” aaaaaaahhhhh

god Dani expecting him to be upset with her I am so fucking emotional. I relate far too much to Dani in canon and in this story and it’s just. painful as hell to see someone go through the things you know hurt the most holy shit

please Carson is so sweet and understanding and telling her he’s proud of her is making me cry so much I can barely see

this whole like.. uncomfortable but relief-filled kind of coming out between her and Carson is so so beautifully done I can’t stop fucking crying

“God, you two were agony to watch.” fglkdfgkjdfhkjgh Carson a voice of the people

“You deserve to be happy.” - Carson and also me and also everyone reading this

god he is so wonderful!!!!!! this reminder that she’s not alone and everything will be ok!!!!!!! Carson I love you so much

the box being described as “the beating heart of their childhood“ god the imagery

Jamie so sweetly making room for her and welcoming her into a home I am emotional again the tears have really been unlocked now I’m gonna be a mess the whole rest of this chapter (i say as if I haven’t been already)

the really sweet way Jamie gets her to open up and trust her with the things that have been on her mind

and Dani doing the same for her god this gentle honest space between them makes my heart feel so full I am just so happy that they’ve got each other

“I want you to stay.” please (also now I’m thinking about AE putting Stay on her Jamie playlist jesus christ I am being tortured)

they get... to wake up.... in bed together. i’m so close to crying again when will this stop

i kind of love there hasn’t really been any like... just no more kissing u know but we still get this insane intimacy between them in a way that’s not them shying away from the way they want each other but so carefuly and sweetly and honestly coming towards each other

awww them always waking up all tangled is so cuuute (also Dani feeling so safe and comfy with her that her subconscious is like lets latch on she is good she is home)

lmao Dani having to mediate between these two dweebs and their playfights is so good

Jamie having her lil family surrounding her aww

(also i just noticed the rating change oh god)

sfkjfhdg Jamie looking at her hips all dark eyes and wanting we’ve all been there girl

“you can look” BOLD DANI MY BELOVED

god these two........ the grabbing her silver chain god @ google how to breathe properly??????

“Then show me.” oh my god

fkgjhdfkj so much electricity they shorted out the power

“this is just as nice” when they’re just hugging please they are so soft

i love that there’s just like... gentle soft banter between them in these quiet moments so much

“Dani, give him more homework.” ghrfjkhjgkjgh

god the heated cheek kiss

this ‘game of chicken’ god they’re just.... really in it huh this is so fun

hmmm Dani going through the suitcases and sort of being able to bring some of herself/her past into this new place is so nice

heh this lil family and their snowfights are so cute

:( she can’t bring herself to eat Judy’s food

Jamie bringing her flowers oh soft

ugh they’re just so softly melting into being together it’s so sweeeeeeeet

“You’re lovely.” and the way Jamie just sinks into her with Dani’s fingers in her hair pleeease I am dying this is so warm

aaaahhhh they’re dancing soft soft soft

“gray eyes fluttered closed, as though the weight of Dani’s touch was too much to bear” god i am..... aaaahhhh

“a gentle calm settling within her. It had seemed that for all her life she had waited for the quiet of this” y’all this is so beautiful and lovely and wonderful and all the good things

ah that kiss. kinda feels like their first real kiss where they just get to be god I am so happy “a profound sense of finally” oh oh oh that’s such a pretty concept

god I love how much they just want each other that second kiss and them just all over each other is perfect and having to try and reel that in and being able to because they know it’s not going anywhere please it’s so so good

god Dani vs Desert Hearts I love this callback and the entirely different circumstances of her watching it again

dsjfhdkjfh oh no Dani losing her mind at Jamie touching her knee god these two have got the biggest storm coming

dfkdjhkgdjh god them like.... trying to take things slow but still letting things happen while having to be aware of Mikey is so funny but I kinda love it and how indicative it all is of them being so grown up and able to approach their relationship in such a mature way. as much as I wish they’d had their teenage love story I do like that it’s unfolding this way now.

“it struck Dani then that she couldn’t remember ever laughing while doing this.” aww

Mikey’s “oh gross” hahahaha poor kid

god this is so funny

“ferret kid” jamie why are u like this sfkjhdfkjf

oh lordt it seems we have reached the unabashedly horny phase good show ol’ chaps

god they’re still so soft tho this is so fun to read

i looove how flustered they both make each other w just their presence. it’s just so !!!!!!

lmao Dani knowing exactly what to do to drive Jamie insane is fdkgfdkjgh perfect amazing show stopping more neck kisses more teasing more barely restrained desire i love it

“the reckless rush of being in each other’s arms” AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

lmaooooo Mikey Jamie is going to lock you outside if u keep doing this

the fact it can just fade back to comfortable companionship too is like. ugh i love them together

“Yeah. You can touch me whenever you want.” oh jesus

“No more interruptions, no more waiting, no more holding back.” it’s happening god it’s happening everyone stay calm (also the slow build to this point has been so fucking perfect y’all are writerly geniuses)

lmao Dani is like please can we just get naked why do u want to watch a movie I am literally right here

oh she is not waiting anymore THAT’S MY GIRL GO GET EVERYTHING YOU’VE EVER WANTED I LOVE YOU

“What do you want?” god the tension

aaaaahhhhh just. them being so out of their minds with want but still all nervous and wanting to check in but still just. wanting this so much god this is *chef’s kiss*

lmao Dani already having the hair pulling thing figured out is so good. poor Jamie lol is she even going to survive this

god the fact they’re both still fully clothed n still getting this fucked up just making out n grinding on each other I love this for them

mum just came in to tell me dinner is ready I AM ALREADY EATIN GOOD

lmao fuck I am just... so thrilled for Dani finally getting to experience this get ur whole world rocked baby u deserve this

thumb in her mouth i-

“my idiot” pls that’s so soft

“You have me.” i know this is like. horny but it’s also so romantic sfgkjhdfkjg

ayoooo Jamie’s tattoo excuse me while I lose my mind a lil bit

my god Dani is so impatient to get her naked I love her for it so much “I just want to feel you”... ma’am

Jamie being all nervous is so cute aw

god having this lil moment where they just call each other beautiful n get all cute about it while they’re fully naked n grinding on each other.... perfection

god I can’t stop thinking about every other mention of Dani having sex w Eddie and it just being like adequate or like her not letting him touch her and now LOOK AT MY BABY GO SHE’S REALLY HAVIN THE TIME OF HER LIFE LITERALLY BEGGING TO BE TOUCHED LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO

I feel like I’m like cheering Jamie on rn sfjkghdfkj u guys need anything? some snacks? a condom?? ur doing great!!

Dani crying and thanking her like this is an acceptance speech love that for her

Jamie kissing all over her face aww

I can’t believe this whole chapter is them just getting to fall in love for real

“I want to taste you” i am blushing goddamn Jamie get it

oh my god the dream. she’s literally living out her dreams

“that same focused intensity that could make kingdoms fall” I love that Jamie is just as into getting Dani off as Dani is getting off lmao GOOD FOR THEM

Dani: desperately tryin to get Jamie off. Jamie: are u sure u want to tho??? miss ma’am let the girl touch u already she deserves it (but i do love that she’s always just like.... never wanting to make Dani do anything she doesn’t wholeheartedly want to)

“You sitting here on top of me like this is doing more for me than you can imagine.” iconic jamie moment

Jamie literally just like.... ‘you can do whatever you want to figure this out’ is so sweet I love her capacity for just. giving herself over to Dani in every way (not just the horny ones) to let her forge her own path

“It was easy to understand now, the exhilaration of it, why people went crazy for it.” god I love this for her so much everything just falling into place

they’re so soft n comfy together and it’s all just so right and lovely

i love that once they’ve started they basically can’t stop honestly get it girls u deserve all the orgasms

“When did you know?” “Sixteen years.” oof my heart she’s known the whole time aaahhhh. all these lil memories god it really was all out of love I could cry. and Jamie admitting the scarf/scar thing whew she really carried around that moment on her face for the whole world to see (also lol at Dani being so fixated on it this whole time that’s so perfect)

heh they’re so cute with their lil teasing banter exchange

lol goddamn this so so spicy I am just dfklghfjkdjghkjdf (that is to say well fucking done I can’t even speak rn)

Jamie just being like you could literally just look at me and I am turned on I... love this whole situation for her so much

god they’re really just going all in Dani is getting like the.... lesbian sex speed run amen

oh god not Karen on the phone just hang up Dani do it do it

god she is so evil

omg she told her abt Jamie go off Dani I am v v proud of u right now

and she hung up on her godbless babe i LOVE your audacity

heh Jamie so transfixed by Dani’s lil purple sweater and skirt I love her

Dani u are such a tease sfkgjdfkg good 4 u tbh

awwww she got Dani’s desk for her oh my god that’s so lovely

Dani n Jamie being entirely not subtle over dinner w their lingering glances and Carson just laughing at them fkjghdkfjgh i love it. he’s so happy for them even w his teasing aw

aaahhh i just love Jamie giving her this space and this room in the house and Dani feeling so right in it

oooh an almost “I love you” god they’re just fuckin u-haulin in love perfection huh

and now we’re back to horny hours love this for them. gotta bless that desk somehow huh!?

i love the mentions of all this soft stuff about belonging when they’re about to rail each other it really rounds it out emotionally

“Get on your knees.” OH MY GOD THE JAMIE ON HER KNEES REDEMPTION MOMENT IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING

HELL YEAH IT IS this is truly what we all deserve

oh my god literally ripping her clothes off her fuck i love how desperate they are for each other and just how into this they both are always

dfgkjdfh jesus Dani are u ever going to be able to get work done at this desk again after Jamie does.... all of this to u on it

“Good girl.” the single most powerful sentence in the lesbian language

jesus christ this is still so incredibly steamy sdflkhskhg it never ends. and them like.... experiementing a bit w some different um. approaches? lol good 4 them good 4 them (and us)

my god them instantly getting all soft after about making each other happy please they’re so dang cute

ok love that we are also getting Dani on her knees it’s equality.gif

this little “I like you” “I like you too” confession right now is... so fucking soft and like... after everything they’ve gone through they still have the power to kinda knock each other off their feet w lil things like this huh?? sappy lil shits

oh no Judy I am scared

holy shit Dani “Didn't think you'd love me anymore” owwww my heart

god Judy is such a good mama I love her so much. reassuring her she’s still a part of the family my god I am so emo. she loves her so much

aw I love this lil shared bathroom scene after so many awkward moments w Dani and Eddie in their bathroom and so many mentions of her fogged reflection. things are finally clear and it’s wonderful!!

lol Jamie well if u didn’t want Dani to get all horny u shouldn’t have worn suspenders!!!!! it’s simple math!

god Dani has changed so much this chapter which only takes place over a couple of weeks right?!?!? after so much anxiety and being so unsure of herself this is so fucking beautiful to see

stop the car thing oh my godddd. she doesn’t even care about having her own cause she’s so happy w the person she’s sharing with I’m so overwhelmingly happy

“You’re perfect.” please I will cry this chapter was so perfect (also so are the memes I cackled so much)

#bhah #lmao this is long as fuck #god this chapter was good I love everythng about it #we did it joe #lord what an experience

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yes-hi-its-ur-mum · 3 years ago

Note

so glad u watched Heartstopper (idk y u wouldn’t but still) cuz all my irl friends won’t watch it and I NEED to hear people very loud and borderline incoherent thoughts. Just rant on Heartstopper. Please

Hi so I realise you sent me this like a month ago or something, but it took me a while to write it out lmao

You ask and you shall receive <33 Hope these are borderline incoherent enough for u :DDDD

There might be a few spoilers for the books if anyone hasn't read them!!

So I read the books a while ago and I was absolutely in love with them and then I heard the series was coming out and I was so fucking excited bro u have no clue. I was out of town when it came out and the second I got home I immediately watched it. I nearly cried like thirty times and half the time I was just kicking my feet in the air and giggling like a maniac.

When Nick came out to his mum I nearly cried because he was so nervous to tell her and I wanted to just wrap him up in a hug and I'm so glad she did. His entire journey of realising he was bisexual and coming to terms with it was weirdly personal to me and the scene where he was taking the "am i gay" quizzes made me cry. The look on his face when he was typing it up and the way he was so hesitant to even write the words, and then when he got his results the tears in his eyes I- just oh my goddjfjfjc. I love Kit (Nick's actor) sm because he managed to portray the panic and fear so well, when he was with his (douchebag) friends and his (amazing) mum. I literally cheered when he punched Harry in the face it was incredible. He should have thrown Ben in the trash, where he belongs, instead of just out the door. We stan bisexual himbos in this house and that is Exactly what Nick is I just skdjdjjdjfjf. He's so protective of Charlie but so respectful of him too and I love him so much oh my goddd 😭

Ok so I wrote like a giant paragraph on Charlie but apparently it didn't save to my drafts which is fuckin annoying. Anyway I just adore him and how soft he is and how even though he's soft he’s also a bitch and I love that for him. The entire time he was anywhere near Ben I wanted to yank him back by his collar and shove him behind me. Like he was just so happy because he thought someone liked him, but then he was just using him and grrjfkfkgkgkgk I want to rip him to shreds. Anyway idk if you've read the books yet but Charlie has a pretty shitty time with his mental health, so everytime I saw the way he reacted around food I screamed internally. Like even though I know it's going to happen, and if they make a second season I know it will probably be centred around that I'm just like, so not ready for it ahhh. The way he loves Nick I wanna cry he's head over heels. I saw something that said Charlie fell first but Nick fell harder and like so true. He's so ahhhdhdjgkkggkkhkhkkjkkjjkkjkgjgk. Yes 👍👍👍✨✨✨👍✨👍😭😭😭✨

TARA AND DARCY TARA AND DARCY TARA AND DARCY 😭😭😭 Darcy is Me istg. I am Darcy. I love her so much and she's so chaotic and ahhhhjfkfkf. Tara is so soft and I'm so sorry she has to put up with Darcy's shit but she still loves her so much and Darcy absolutely adores Tara and when they were in the music room and Tara was talking about how everyone was treating her differently after she came out even though she was the exact same person, i felt that in my soul. I love them so much and if they make season 2 I'm so excited for the Paris trip lmaoooo. Like Darcy getting super drunk is going to be so so funny. And Tara talking to Charlie when everyone else gets icecream I Will Cry.

Don’t get me started on Elle and Tao I love them so much (if anyone starts headcanoning Tao as anything other than straight I’m gonna throw hands). The mutual pining I just wanna slam their heads together /hj. Them not wanting to confess in case it ruins them is so valid but also c’mon. Just kiss or something 😭😭😭. Also the fact that Tao grew his hair out in solidarity assdlfssgkjgdjgd. That might be why the tips of his hair were curled weirdly? It’s too long for the dress code but no one can tell because he curled it?? Idk. They’re just so. ah. I’m tired and in love with them all and if they don’t get the happy ending they deserve I’m gonna cry.

Sorry for the multiple paragraphs! I still have more thoughts but this is going to have to do 😭😭 You asked for a rant and you got one. Lemme know if there’s any mistakes, I couldn’t be bothered proof-reading it. Thank u so much for the ask <3333

#wow this is long #i'm so sorry bahaha #asks #heartstopper #nick nelson #charlie spring #tara jones #darcy olsson #tao xu #elle argent

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sorikkung · 1 year ago

Text

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

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

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

"He deserves this." NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

one of my favourite relationship dynamics honestly

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

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

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

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

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

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

okay that was so tender and gentle and soft and

IM FINE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 11

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

series masterlist | previous chapter

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

series rating: 16+

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

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

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

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 16.2k

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

chapter summary:

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

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

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

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

“Wooyoung!”

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

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

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

“Wooyoung!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wooyoung.”

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

Wooyoung gasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He deserves this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is nothing, even now.

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

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

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

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

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

It looks normal, the burns completely vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… I, um,” Wooyoung says stupidly.

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

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

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

Then Seonghwa kisses him.

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

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

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

Then Seonghwa begins to squeeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung knows that he is dead.

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

San is dead.

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

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

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

“This is your fault.”

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

“Winter,” Wooyoung whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wooyoung looks up to meet your gaze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This sword is nicer than San’s old one.

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

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

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

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

San hates it.

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

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

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

San wants his sword back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want some tea?” Seonghwa asks.

“I’m alright.”

“Good. Whiskey then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Woo kissed me.”

San chokes on his whiskey.

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

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

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

“When?” San asks, bewildered.

“Before they captured him.”

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

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

“Are you mad?” Seonghwa asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How did it happen?” San asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could kiss me.”

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

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

Instead he says: “I wasn't joking.”

And he isn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is freeing.

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

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

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

San’s heart drops down into his stomach.

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

You’ve gone to find Woo. Alone.

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

“Fuck,” Seonghwa breathes, voicing San’s own thoughts.

“Do you know when she left?” San asks, as it couldn't have been long ago. It had to be some time after San came inside the tent, otherwise he would have noticed you sneak out.

“Her bed is still warm. So recently,” Yeji answers, confirming San’s suspicions.

“Alright,” San breathes, before turning to Seonghwa. “Let’s go.”

Seonghwa nods in agreement, and without another word, they’re on their feet and heading out through the tent flap. Annoyance bubbles within San’s gut. He told you not to go. He told you to wait until he came up with a plan. A plan that meant getting both you and Woo to safety, not forcing you all to pick between one or the other. He is not one of the gods and has no interest in playing one.

You seem to have made the decision yourself, and while San resents you for not telling him or Seonghwa what you were planning, he understands why you did it.

Because San was never going to come up with a better plan. Time has been ticking since the moment he found the message scrawled in the alley, and his ideas have run dry. There is no better way, it was always going to end in you heading up the mountain to Woo’s aid. You wouldn’t have had it any other way, and deep down San knows he would have had it the same.

He just wishes that they were there with you. There to help you. To protect you. To kill these men with far too much power, who took everything from you.

Who took everything from him when they kidnapped Woo.

The sun has begun to set over the horizon as you ride along the Concorsus Mountain Pass.

An entire day having come and gone, your pace relentless as you rode in a restless pursuit, your body now aches in protest. Your thighs burn from their friction against the horse’s back, the muscles in your arms throbbing from maintaining your grip on the reins. Your stomach rumbles and groans, gnawing at your insides in hunger, head-pounding in demand of water.

But there is no time to eat or drink, not when only the god’s know what the black-clad men are doing to Woo.

You’ve had an awful lot of time spent in silence to consider the many possibilities of how they could be torturing him, all too gut-wrenching and grotesque to even think about. You try to push away the images of Woo bathed in blood, his face swollen with bruises and infected wounds. You hope that they have him in a room somewhere, untouched, awaiting your inevitable arrival.

You also recognize this as wishful thinking.

Pushing the thoughts from your mind, you focus on the trail ahead of you. The Concorsus Mountain Pass is not an easy ride, the ground full of jagged rocks and rolling hills that have put your elementary equestrian skills to the test. Looming cliffs rest on each side of you, the black-colour of the rock like two blankets of darkness threatening to crush you between them.

The black-clad men did not specify where along the pass you were to meet them, but as you continue to ascend higher and higher, the increase in altitude making you feel both dizzy and nauseous, you imagine that they are stationed at the mountain’s summit.

As far away from Bebbanburg and any chance at aid you could possibly be.

You swallow hard, riding onwards. You have no help here, no protection. Having abandoned the safety net that San and Seonghwa created, you are truly alone in this. Your only protection is the sword attached to your waist, as well as Minho’s elixir residing in your pocket— if you could even consider that protection. It’s old magic, not even the god’s know what it will do. You aren’t particularly keen on ingesting it.

But if it comes down to a choice between life and death, a matter of saving Woo, you will.

With this in mind, you approach a rock wall. It’s not particularly large, five-feet tall at most, but your horse whinnies in protest as it comes to a stop before it. You try to give it a bit of encouragement, but the animal does not budge, clomping its hooves in irritation.

You sigh. This is not a horse from the kingdom stables, bred to ride and trained to jump, you have to leave it behind. Letting yourself down from its back, you grab the cliff’s edge, pulling yourself up and over the wall. Crawling up off your knees, you cast the animal a glance backwards, to which it meets with its black marble eyes.

The horse continues to huff, neighing in frustration. You frown as the animal grows louder, squealing as it lifts up onto its back legs, crying out.

“What the…” you mutter to yourself.

“It’s trying to warn you,” a voice says from behind.

You twist around, hand reaching for the sword at your waist, but you are not fast enough. The stranger grabs your wrist as you turn around, his other hand digging into your scalp. He pulls your hair back, forcing you to look up at him.

He’s young, maybe only a couple years older than yourself, with dark eyes and pale skin. His light hair is made brighter through its contrast with the black armour he wears.

“Hey, Princess,” the man says, grinning. You spit in his face, but he simply laughs, giving your hair a sharp tug backward. His laughter is quickly accompanied by others, as more black-clad men appear from behind different dark rocks along the mountain walls. You count what appears to be a half-dozen of them, all different ages and sizes, appearances united only through the black armour they wear.

Giving your body a sharp twist, you catch the man off guard, before giving him a swift knee to the groin. He lets out a groan, his grasp on your hair relinquishing itself as he stumbles backward.

You’re prepared to run, to jump down from the cliff and back to your horse in hopes of finding more allusive passage, when you feel the coolness of metal along your throat.

“You’ve gained some spunk since we last saw you,” the man holding the knife whispers, seizing your wrist as he tugs your arm behind your back. You wonder if he was one of the men that chased you down the corridors following the besiegement, that hunted you in your father’s library. That killed Mingi in the stable.

“Good,” another adds, although which of the men is speaking you cannot tell. “It’ll make this all the more enjoyable.”

You were correct about their base being set at the mountain’s summit.

The men have been dragging you with them for what you assume has been roughly an hour, the setting sun having finally fallen victim to the night’s darkness. Stars glitter in the sky above you, and they are the only light present besides the singular torch one of the men carries, alighting the mountain pass in an ominous, orange hue.

They’ve remained silent since your capture, although the glances and cunning grins they’ve exchanged between one another have spoken loud enough. You don’t know what exactly is waiting for you at the summit, but you know it isn’t pretty.

The cave you approach at the top of the mountain seems fitting, as it's possibly the most unwelcoming entry-way you’ve ever seen. Sharp rocks align its entrance, each of them bleached white from sun exposure, creating the illusion of a monster’s gaping mouth.

You swallow hard, fear curdling within your stomach. It’s fitting, as entering a beast's mouth seems an awful lot like what you are doing.

Upon entering the cave, the initial darkness does not last long, as you spot light further up ahead of the winding tunnel. As you draw closer, you recognize the light to be lanterns, strown up and around the cave. The bustle of people fills your ears, their chatter growing louder with each passing step. When you finally leave the tunnel and enter the cave’s main area, you blink in surprise.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. Solemnity, perhaps. A dark cave with minimal light, nobody talking. A monster’s domain.

Instead, it reminds you an awful lot of the refuge, albeit smaller. There are plenty of tents set up, people sharing in conversation between them. Others spend their time chopping firewood, or brushing dirt and gravel away from their own tent’s entrance. To the left of the camp-site is a massive ravine, haphazardly blocked off by wooden pegs stringed together with rope. You are not close enough to the edge to tell, but you imagine the fall to be hundreds of feet down. Deadly.

You glance around, watching the many men bustling about, as if this were merely a war-camp and not the station of murderess assailants.

Then you see him.

Woo resides on a makeshift parapet in the center of the camp, chains clamped around his wrists that are attached to large stone pillars on both sides of him. He sits on his knees, head hanging out in front of him, his hair falling in a dark mop that hides face. It appears that if it weren’t for the chains holding his arms up, he’d have already crumpled over.

Your blood runs cold.

The talking comes to a quiet as you enter, the dozens of black-clad soldiers all turning away from their conversations or menial tasks to face you. “Look who we found wandering,” the man holding you says, bringing his knife up from your throat to your cheek. He presses the blade against your jaw, forcing you to look up, displaying your face to the many men watching you.

Some of the men begin to snicker, a few even cheer as the man pushes the blade a little harder, piercing your skin. You can feel the blood trickle down your neck, although the sensation feels more like a dream than reality, as you catch sight of a man walking towards you.

Not just any man, but the one that chased you through the library. The one that cornered you in the stables.

The man responsible for Mingi’s death.

He walks slowly, almost a saunter as he appears to be in no rush. His posture holds a sense of confident ease, of power, and you’re certain that he is the commander of this army. His narrow, wrinkled face adorns a thick black beard. His eyes are dark, sharp as they scan you up and down, a satisfied smile plastered across his lips.

“Well,” the commander says, his voice not particularly deep, but intimidating nonetheless. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

You say nothing, merely stare back at him, venom in your gaze.

“I’m assuming you’re here to save your friend then,” he says, continuing despite your silence. “How very noble.”

You do not give him the satisfaction of a retort.

“You’ve become rather stoic since I last saw you,” the commander says, eyes flashing with something awful. Something cruel. “Before you wouldn’t stop screaming. Begging your other friend not to sacrifice himself— the tall silver-haired boy, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, tears stinging in the backs of your eyes. They are born of rage, not sadness. You do not let them fall.

“I suppose this is some sort of retribution for that, isn’t it?” The man continues, tone calm, almost light. “He gave his life for you, so now you’ll give yours for another.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, this time louder and with far more bite.

“You should have heard him scream. You should have heard the sound it made when my sword entered him again and again-”

You’ve had enough of this. Tears sting your eyes, fists trembling at your sides. You don’t have to listen to this man, give in to his taunts. He simply wants to have some enjoyment before he kills you, some sick sort of pleasure. Your father always said it was impolite to play with your food, and for once you’d have to agree with him.

“Woo!” You shout, turning your attention away from the man in front of you, from his barbed provocation. When Woo does not look at you, nor move his head from its slumped position, you try again. “Woo, can you hear me?”

“Unfortunately, Wooyoung isn’t quite with us anymore,” the commander answers with a sigh, tone sympathetic, although the smile he wears is anything but. “Not mentally, anyway.”

You frown at the use of Woo’s full name. How does he know that? Did Woo tell him?

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your voice low as fury rises hot in your throat, pulsing within your mind.

The man grins. A mischievous, dangerous, evil grin. “Would you like to come and see?”

The commander nods towards the man holding you, giving a look that says— no, orders: “Let her go.” The man’s knife falls away from your throat as he reliquishes his grip on your arm. You can still feel the spot where his fingers were, aching where bruises will surely soon appear.

Nobody moves to grab you, and it strikes you that in this moment, you could try to flee. Bolt back down the tunnel, dozens of men sure to take after you and grab you once more. You’re certain they would be far less liberal on your second capture.

You could try and fight. Relinquish your sword from its sheath and take out as many as possible. It would likely be only one or two, considering they’d all be on you and you don’t have San here to coach you through it. By the god’s you wish that San were here.

But he is not, and thus instead of fleeing or fighting you follow the man, obeying as his hand beckons you forward. “Good girl,” he says, and your gut clenches in disgust, face twisting with repulsion.

If the commander is offended by the expression, he doesn’t show it. Instead he continues walking, the two of you winding past different groups of the black-clad men, each of their gazes falling over you. You feel like a gazelle in a den of lions, their stares hungry for your blood.

When you reach Woo, you take a step forward, unsure of what exactly you plan to do. Perhaps move the thick mess of tangled hair from his face, or give the chains some slack to loosen the pull on his wrists. You just need to do something.

The commander places an arm out, stopping you. “I wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

“Well, good thing you’re not me,” you cut back through gritted teeth, moving towards Woo. You crouch down, reaching for the chain on his right wrist.

“Woo, I’m here,” you say, trying to keep your voice level, even as it shakes. The commander had suggested that Woo wasn’t mentally here, and while you aren’t sure exactly what that may mean, you know you should navigate this with caution.

When your hand touches the chain around his wrist, Woo lets out an awful, blood-curdling noise. You’d describe it as a scream, but that would make it too human. It is nothing less than animalistic.

Flames emerge from the elemental’s palms, scorching your arm. You yank your hand away, wincing as pain bubbles within your fingers. Despite yourself, you step back, clutching your burnt hand.

Woo looks at you, except that he doesn’t really. Instead his eyes almost look through you, unfocused and distant, although that’s the least of what worries you about his appearance.

Apart from the unsettling and distant look to his eyes, the whites of them have shifted to a strange and unnatural purple colour, like blooming lilacs during the spring season. It contrasts greatly against the many thick red veins expanding out from his pupils, which have spread across his iris’ in a way that reminds you of black marbles.

His wrists are laced with wounds, the metal of his bonds having heated up due to the fire he unleashed from his palms. The burns are clearly infected as they beam a revolting yellow, puss forming within their deep gashes. Those will scar, you have no doubt.

Sweat beads along Woo’s temple, trailing down his face and onto his neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his entire body is drenched, all of his clothes soaked through. He trembles, tremors seizing his body as he breathes heavily, chest heaving as he appears to not be able to get enough air.

“What did you do to him?” You whisper. The man chuckles.

“We gave him an elixir of sorts,” he answers, and your stomach twists at the thought. Old magic. The weight of your own potion grows heavy in your pocket.

Woo continues to shake, arms trembling as he continues to look through you. Tears form in his eyes as he begins to murmur beneath his breath, although what exactly you cannot make out. You didn’t know what the men would do to him, what state he would be in, but you never could have imagined this. Fury twists in your gut like a cheap ale, making you feel sick with ferocity.

“Why would you do this?” You ask, and it’s the question that has been pressing down on your shoulders ever since you watched the dagger enter your father's stomach. You twist towards the commander, and despite how he stands taller than you, you do not let yourself appear weak. Chin held up high, you meet his gaze.

“Why would you destroy my kingdom? Why would you spend so much time and effort hunting me across Burovia? Why would you place such an utter fortune of a bounty on my head?” You look him up and down. “Who are you?”

The man grins. “Me? I am nobody.”

“Enough games-” You snarl, but he merely shakes his head, giving you a dismissive wave.

“You think I care about a pampered royal brat bred by a kingdom of snakes?” The commander asks, his dark eyes glimmering in the many lantern’s light. “I couldn't care less about your disaster of a court, although I must say I enjoyed burning it to the ground.”

You frown. “Then why would you-”

“Because my employer cares,” he cuts you off, tone final. He folds his arms behind his back, a clicking noise filling the air as he taps his fingers along his black armor.

“Who is your employer?” You press further, ignoring how the noise matches the beat of your racing heart, that’s pace only increases with each passing second.

“I am not to say,” he answers with a shrug.

You grit your teeth, frustration building in your chest. “If you plan to kill me then what does it matter?”

The man hums, grin growing wider with satisfaction. “Does it scare you, the possibility of never knowing?” He takes a step forward. “Does it terrify you to never know why your kingdom burned to ash, to never know why your father was murdered?”

The man is close now, peering down at you, the crow’s feet along the edges of his ageing eyes more prominent as he stands before you. He reaches forward, running two of his fingers along your bare cheek.

“Does it frighten you that you’ll never know why you died?” He asks.

You do not flinch, even as he touches you, even as your body demands it. “You do not scare me,” you lie.

He chuckles at this, his hand still placed on your cheek, his calloused fingertips rough against your skin. “Your eyes say otherwise.”

The commander reaches to his side, pulling out a knife. Its long blade is serrated, details of stars carved into its wooden hilt. It reminds you a bit of the one Seonghwa gave you, the one Woo took on that first night you met them.

He extends the blade out towards you, hilt settled neatly in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honours? Or should I?”

You stare at the knife out before you, its blade a cool white, almost glowing within the cave’s dim lighting. He’s offering you a choice. Not of whether or not you will die, but how. Or better, by whom.

To do the deed yourself, or have it done by his own hand.

Your hand hovers out in front of you, fingertips a mere inch away from the hilt. You stare at the knife, at its cool iron, at its spotless white blade. Soon to be tainted. Your hand shakes despite your attempt to steady it.

It’s a horrible, horrible decision to make.

Fortunately, the arrow that embeds itself in the commander’s arm liberates you from making it.

Sticking out from the crook of his elbow, nestled within a small gap in armor that was designed for amplified movement, the man lets out a shocked groan of pain. The knife clatters on the cave’s rocky floor as he brings his hand to the wound, the blood emerging from the black fabric not noticeable until it coats his pale fingers.

In unison, both you and the commander twist in the direction from which the arrow flew.

Seonghwa stands atop a rock in the far corner of the cavern, bow drawn up, still in the position from which he let the arrow fly. You nearly let out a cry of relief. Joyous, unadulterated relief.

A scream cuts through the air, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor.

There’s another noise, a gargled and choked sort of cry, and you hear the sharp sound of the many black-clad men unsheathing their swords before you actually see them do it.

This is because your focus is not on them. It’s on San, as he holds a body out before him. It’s one of the men that captured you on the mountain pass, the young blonde. San’s sword sticks out through the man’s chest, blood pooling out from his mouth as his eyes grow dim.

It’s immediate, how the cavern erupts into chaos.

“Seize them!” The commander orders his battalion, before ripping the arrow from his arm. Despite the blood leaking from the now open wound, his movements are agile as he removes the sword from his own sheath. The blade is as black as night, matching its shadowy hilt.

You stare him down, relinquishing your own sword, your mother’s sapphire glittering.

You prepare to take a step forward, however, something presses up behind your back. You prepare to twist around, strike the oncoming threat. However, San’s voice fills your ear, quiet as he speaks over his shoulder. “We move together.”

“Alright,” you breathe, lifting your long-sword out before you as San’s back presses into your own. “Together.”

The black-clad men attack.

They move at you from all directions. San places his free-hand along your waist, guiding you with him. The two of you move with the grace of one being, fending off the dark wave of men that surround you like a swarm of hornets defending their hive.

You swing at one of the men, catching his shoulder as San pushes on your left hip. You move with it, narrowly dodging the strike of a different enemy blade, the breeze of his swing cool against your cheek. The failed strike catches the owner of the blade off-balance, allowing you to seize the opportunity to stab your sword into the soft spot of his breastplate, straight through the opening just below the pit of his arm. The man cries out, face knotting together in agony as he falls to the ground.

You do not allow yourself the time to dwell on how you’ve likely just taken that man’s life, how there are even more to come, as you slice your sword along another soldier’s neck. Save yourself, save Woo, save your kingdom. You can mourn the horrors of your deeds later, for now that is all that matters.

You catch a glimpse of a man in the corner of your vision, hair the colour of flame as he sneaks in behind the soldier whose chest you currently run-through with your blade. You won’t reach him in time, his sword is raised high in the air, another second and he’ll bring it down on your neck-

An arrow shoots right through his skull, entering near his ear as the point sticks out the other side of his head. Blood sprays out from the wound, splattering onto your tunic. The man crumples to the ground, falling in the direction of the arrow’s path. Dead.

Your gaze shoots to Seonghwa. He stands atop the rock, eyes wide as his gaze falls to the man on the ground. The man he killed. Horror is plastered across his own expression, as if realizing what he has done. Woo had once told you that Seonghwa has only ever wounded with his arrows. He’s never killed, not even beasts.

You worry he will crumble, just as you did after the mimic, just as you had the first time you’d taken the life of something. Instead Seonghwa swallows hard, a glazed look to his eyes as he gives you a nod, before removing another arrow from his quiver. You have a sense he’s also saving his pain for later.

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

You grin. It’s satisfying, watching the men who took everything from you struggle.

And struggle they do indeed. You and San work as a tight-knit unit as Seonghwa picks off the stranglers with his arrows, as well as those attempting to crawl atop his residing stone.

“By the gods,” you think. “We’re winning.”

However, if you are aware of this, so is the man leading the operation.

You search for the commander amidst the swarm of black armour surrounding you, trying to pin-point his dark beard and aging face. He doesn’t appear to be a part of the mob.

“Do you know where he went? The commander?” You ask San, yelling over the sound of battle cries and the screams of the wounded. San does not respond immediately, likely searching for him amidst the crowd.

San lets out a sudden growl of annoyance. “He’s with Woo.”

You glance over your shoulder, seeing the commander next to the elemental. He stands behind Woo, lips drawn close to his ear, hand placed on the elemental’s shoulder. You cannot hear what the commander is saying to him, but you know that it is nothing good.

Woo’s eyes are wide, the purple where the white’s of his eyes should be growing darker. Tears stream down his face and they are a matching colour, like drops of ink. You can see Woo whispering something, and while you cannot make out the words, the desperation on his face makes you believe that he is begging. Although what he is pleading for you do not know.

Fire surrounds them, leaking from Woo’s fingertips and onto the cavern floor. The flames run thick, the consistency of molten lava. You’ve never seen that from an elemental before, didn’t even know it was possible..

“We need to make our way over there,” you say while stabbing your sword into the arm of a black-clad soldier. You can feel San nod his head in affirmation.

Wrapping his free hand tighter around your waist, San pulls you with him, the two of you spinning through an opening within the mob. You nearly trip over something, and upon looking down you see that it is a body. His dead eyes look up at you. They are a light hazel.

You would vomit if there was anything solid in your stomach.

San pulls you past the man before you can stare at him for too long, before you can memorize the features of his face, before you can wonder if it was he or you who killed him.

So much death. So much needless death. You close your eyes, only for the briefest of moments, for the split of a second. You imagine you are the person you had been a mere month ago. The girl who let her baths be drawn from her, her clothes picked out and placed on her body by others. The girl who sulked when Mingi left for battle training, who’d never held a sword in her hands, let alone ran someone through with it.

You open your eyes and know that you will never be her again.

San continues to pull you with him through the opening within the dark swarm, letting go of your waist as the two of you break through and sprint towards Woo.

The commander continues to whisper into the elemental’s ear, more molten lava dripping from Woo’s hands. It forms in pools on the cavern floor, slowly trailing down the parapet in a way that reminds you of the baby basilisks, like long thin glowing snakes.

It’s not until now that you realize what the commander is doing, as Woo grows more and more affected by his words, blood-vessel’s bursting in his eyes as red mixes itself into the purple. A mosaic of burning hues.

The commander knows that he is losing, which means he’s pulling out a last resort, willing to play his wild-card. He plans to use Woo as a weapon. He’ll do whatever it takes to take you out, even if that means his battalion goes down with you. Bastard.

The commander steps back from Woo, walking over to the top of the chain tied to one of the stone pillars. He will set Woo free, grant him full range of motion with his gift. After all, an elemental can only summon flame with movement, with the dancing of their fingers or full swing of their arms.

Only Woo is not your average elemental.

Before the commander can finish untying the first chain, Woo screams. It’s not as animalistic as his last, but far, far more broken. Fire flares out from around him, a massive wave of curling flames that tumbles in all directions, standing over ten feet tall.

You grab San’s wrist, yanking him with you as you dive behind the nearest rock. Face pressed to the ground, you do not see the fire as it stretches over top of you, but you can feel its heat along your back even through your tunic. Screams echo from all around, bouncing off of the cavern's walls, and you know that not everyone was so lucky.

Once the heat disappears, both you and San are quick to settle onto your knees, peering up over the rock. Woo’s head has fallen back down, shrouded in tangled black hair, chest heaving as he catches his breath. The commander, who had fallen to the ground behind him, rises to his feet.

You gasp.

While it appears he managed to find shelter before the flames completely engulfed him, he also did not make it out unscathed. The left half of his face burns a bright red colour, the skin bubbling with boils in a way resembles lumps of flour in unkneaded dough. His dark hair is gone on the affected side, both on his face and the top of his head, smoke billowing out from his disintegrated scalp.

With so much of his skin burned off, his eye nearly pops from his head, stark against his bright red skin. He looks undead, like a walking skeleton, the teeth on the left side of his mouth permanently visible due to his upper lip having been incinerated. His gums bleed, the red almost glowing against the whiteness of his teeth.

Your gut twists at the sight of him, and you have to look away.

Black-clad soldiers sit slumped around the cavern, broken moans leaving their lips as the fire was not enough to kill them all. The agony of their cries fills your ears, and although you fight against it tears sting your eyes. You know that these are bad men, men who killed your father and countless innocents in the castle, who ruined your life and want nothing more than to see your end.

But right now they are just men. They are just human, each one with their own life and story, and they are dying a slow and horrible death.

The blow to the back of your head stops you from becoming too absorbed in remorse.

It comes sharp and quick, carrying the heaviness of what you assume is a rock, and your vision momentarily sways. It doesn’t knock you out, but it does throw you off balance, giving the attacker enough time to seize your wrist. They give it a sharp twist, causing you to let out a whine of pain as your sword clatters to the ground.

The culprit drags you from behind, and you fight to remain on your feet. You shout to San, and while he twists to face you he is moment too late, as the person from behind shoves you away from them.

And into the arms of the commander.

The commander grins, his smile even more unsettling with his missing lip as he casts an appreciative nod to the young, brunette soldier who had grabbed you. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck, uncomfortably tight as he turns you to face away from him, chest pressed against your back.

With his spare hand he holds a knife to your throat.

“Enough of this,” the commander says. “Put your weapons down.”

The world around you stills as San comes to a halt, gaze sharp as his good eye flickers between you and the commander, analyzing the situation. He appears to come to no solution as he slowly retracts his sword back into its sheath.

However, not everyone follows his orders.

“Let her go.”

Seonghwa no longer resides atop the rock, likely having dived behind it to avoid the flames. Now on the ground, he stands roughly twenty feet ahead of you, his bow up and arrow drawn.

“What an awful accent,” the man laughs, and his voice sounds more manic now that he is on the verge of defeat. Of death. His cheek presses to yours, and you can feel his spittle against your skin, smell the rotten tang of his breath. “Like a Mainlander that swallowed his tongue.”

Seonghwa’s frown deepens, eyebrows furrowing together as he pulls the bow taught.

“You let that arrow fly and we both go down with it, boy,” the commander warns, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Such an awful smile. “Choose wisely.”

For a moment you don’t understand what he means, but realization sinks like a stone in your gut. The ravine resides behind you, hundreds of feet deep, the belly of a monster whose darkness would swallow you whole.

“Take your mutt and leave,” the man says to San, nodding towards Woo, who has returned to his slumped position, skin glistening with sweat as his arms tremble.

“So you can kill her as soon as we’re gone?” San bites back, tone venomous. “I don’t think so.”

“I promise to make it quick and painless,” the man says softly, before pressing the knife into your neck. Not deep, but enough to make you gasp in pain. “Otherwise I can make it very, very slow.”

Seonghwa’s hands grip tighter around the bow, San’s expression settling into a snarl of fury. However, neither of them move. If San moves to attack him, he’ll simply slice your throat. If Seonghwa fires the arrow, you’ll plummet with him. You try to reach Minho’s elixir in your pocket, but cannot manage it. Besides, even if you did manage to grasp it, there’s no way the commander would let you go long enough to down the liquid.

He has you cornered, and you all know it.

Well, that is except for one of you. You turn to Woo.

The elemental does not look at you as you speak. “Woo,” you call, the knife sharp against your throat as it bobs. “Can you hear me?”

“No, he can’t hear you.” The commander whispers into your ear, and you can feel the hollowness of his cheek as he speaks, the rough and ruined texture of his skin. “Or maybe he can, but who knows how much of him is even left in there.”

“Woo,” you call again, ignoring him, even as his words send a shiver down your spine. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but it’s me. It’s us, we’re all here. San, Seonghwa and I. We’re all here.”

Woo twitches at this, although he still does not lift his head. You hear him murmuring something beneath his breath, and it’s a moment until you can register what he is saying.

“You’re not real,” he whispers, voice shaky and blubbered. “You’re not real.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what he did to you, and I don’t know what you’re seeing or hearing or what’s going on, but I need you to lift your head.”

He doesn’t respond and you try again. “Please, Woo. Please, just lift your head for me.”

It takes a moment, but shakily, he does. His hair falls in dark matted clumps over his blood-shot, purple-stained eyes. His pupils still do not focus on you, a distant vacantness to the broken expression across his tear-stained face.

“Leave me alone,” he says, and it is a hoarse, beaten plea. “Please, please just stop. Let me die. Don’t bring me back. Please. I deserve it.”

Your heart twists at hearing Woo - confident, self-assured, unbreakable Woo - say something so self-demoralizing.

However, it’s with these words, these broken claims that he deserves it, that you have an idea of what horrors he may be seeing before him.

“Wooyoung,” you say, and you notice as Seonghwa’s brows furrow in confusion at the name, San raising an eyebrow. Perhaps it's the first time they’ve heard it. “Wooyoung do you remember our conversation by the fire?”

“Please just stop,” he whispers, shaking his head as more of the molten lava begins to leak from his hands.You don’t even know if he’s still listening, but this is your last shot, so you push on.

“You told me that you knew you should regret what you did to the wardens, that it should eat you up inside. But it didn’t, because they deserved it.”

Tears continue to stream down Woo’s face, which is contorted in a pained, agonizing expression. However, as he does not deny your words or continue his broken mumbling, you take his silence as a sign to continue.

“I haven’t been able to forgive myself for what I’ve done, and I don’t think I ever will,” you continue, and you know both San and Seonghwa are watching you as you can feel the heaviness of their gazes. The confused curiosity mixed with desperation that swirls within them, staring intently. Yet, you ignore them. You ignore the commander and the knife at your throat, the wails of agony in the air and the thick stench of burnt flesh.

Right now it is just you and the broken elemental before you. You and Woo.

“But that’s the difference between us,” you say, swallowing hard. “I chose to harm people that never deserved it.”

“Enough of this,” the commander says through gritted teeth, pressing the knife harder against your neck. Choking down the increasing pain, you ignore him.

“And you never deserved it Woo, any of it. Any of what Warden did to you, any of my father’s cruelty, any of my lies. None of it was ever deserved.”

Woo’s breathing begins to escalate, but this time it is not as if he’s having trouble taking in air, it’s as if he has realized that he finally can.

“Enough,” the commander says again, with more anger in his voice as he appears to come to the same realization about Woo as you do.

“You’re there,” Woo whispers. His gaze is still lost and distant, his limbs still trembling and words blubbered with misery and fear. But there is also something more. Something powerful.

“We’re here,” you say back, relief blossoming in your chest. Even as the commander twists the back of your wrist and you let out a cry of pain, you’re filled with an undeniable, unbridled sense of hope.

“We need your help, Wooyoung,” you say, and the elemental swallows hard in response.

“I can’t,” he says, voice a quiet breath as he shakes his head in denial.

“You can,” you say, tone firm. You have him, even if only for a moment, and you will not let yourself lose him again. “You’ve done it before.”

Wooyoung stops shaking his head as he realizes what you are suggesting.

“Stop this!” the commander says, and now he’s shouting. He means it as a demand, as a threat, but it sounds instead an awful lot like a plea.

“You can do it, Wooyoung,” you say, the softness leaving your voice and replacing itself with a hardened encouragement. You will not yield.

“How do you know?” He asks, and even though his voice shakes, its weakness has fallen away.

A grin spreads across your lips. Even with the knife to your throat, the burnt bodies around, and the commander rotting breath hot against your skin, you smile.

You smile because you know you’ve won.

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

You can feel the commander’s grip around the knife clench, his elbow brought higher as he prepares himself to slice it clean across your throat.

“I said enough-”

A blast of heat ignites from behind you, burning hot along your back, and you instinctively push forward. The commander's grip loosens without protest, the knife within his hand falling to the ground, clattering against the cavern’s rocky floor. A strong stench floods your senses, the same horrid and sickening scent that had previously hung around the cavern, only now increased ten-fold.

You twist around, putting yourself face-to-face with the commander, who’s entire body is engulfed in flame.

His screams leave him like waves crashing along the shoreline, powerful and ominous amidst their build-up but shattered and broken upon their downfall. The fire spreads across his body in a way that is almost unnatural, hugging close to his flesh as it eats away at his skin, a vicious parasite devouring him whole. He stumbles, and you cannot make out his expression, his face covered in the burning orange glow. Perhaps it is better that way.

He reaches forward blindly, his flame-covered hands extended outwards as he searches for your body. Even in death, he seeks to take you with him. Find his glory, his vengeance, even if it’s accompanied by his final breath.

And yet, even with all he has done to you, Woo, and your family, you grant the commander one final mercy.

A quick death.

Reaching forward, you place your palms flat against his chest, giving him a firm push. It burns your hands, although only for a moment, as he stumbles backwards. His foot catches on one of the pegs tied together with rope before the cliff, sending him tumbling backwards. Time appears to stand still for a moment, an eternity slipping by as he hangs in the air, a ball of glowing flame suspended above the ravine’s gaping mouth.

He falls, the glow like a spark slowly diminishing, until it disappears entirely. You do not hear him crash against what lays beyond the darkness.

There’s a moment of silence that follows as you stare over the ravine’s edge. You half-expect the commander to fly back upwards, to catch you in a moment of weakness, suddenly equipped with new fire abilities of his own.

He does not. There is only darkness.

You turn back around. Both San and Seonghwa stare at you, both of their expressions difficult to place. Mouths parted slightly and eyes wide, they appear to be in disbelief. Awe, even. You imagine your face looks the same.

Woo sits with head hung over, eyes closed. For a moment you fear he is dead, but from the shaky rise and fall of his chest, you know that he is merely unconscious.

There is the sound of footsteps as the few black-clad men left unscathed flee down the cave’s passage-way, leaving you behind.

“Well,” San whispers, his good eye drifting from you, to Seonghwa, to the scattered bodies around you, before finally settling on Woo. He laughs, shaky and unsure, but at the same time so, so sincere. “Fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

next chapter coming soon.

thank you for reading! feel free to come chat with me about any thoughts you may have, feedback is the one thing that keeps me going tbh. also, if you’re bored in the meantime, here are both my ateez and skz masterlists for your convenience. i hope to see you around :3

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